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Peter Pan
By
James M. Barrie
Contents
Chapter
1 PETER BREAKS THROUGH
Chapter
3 COME AWAY, COME AWAY!
Chapter
5 THE ISLAND COME TRUE
Chapter
7 THE HOME UNDER THE GROUND
Chapter
8 THE MERMAIDS' LAGOON
Chapter
12 THE CHILDREN ARE CARRIED OFF
Chapter
13 DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES?
Chapter
15 "HOOK OR ME THIS TIME".
All children, except one, grow up. They soon k=
now
that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she w=
as
two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower a=
nd
ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful,
for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, "Oh, why can't y=
ou remain
like this for ever!" This was all that passed between them on the subj=
ect,
but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you =
are
two. Two is the beginning of the end.
Of course they lived at 14 [their house number=
on
their street], and until Wendy came her mother was the chief one. She was a
lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her roman=
tic mind
was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling
East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet moc=
king
mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was,
perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner.
The way Mr. Darling won her was this: the many
gentlemen who had been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously t=
hat
they loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to her except Mr.
Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so he got her. He got all =
of
her, except the innermost box and the kiss. He never knew about the box, an=
d in
time he gave up trying for the kiss. Wendy thought Napoleon could have got =
it,
but I can picture him trying, and then going off in a passion, slamming the
door.
Mr. Darling used to boast to Wendy that her mo=
ther
not only loved him but respected him. He was one of those deep ones who know
about stocks and shares. Of course no one really knows, but he quite seemed=
to
know, and he often said stocks were up and shares were down in a way that w=
ould
have made any woman respect him.
Mrs. Darling was married in white, and at first
she kept the books perfectly, almost gleefully, as if it were a game, not so
much as a Brussels sprout was missing; but by and by whole cauliflowers dro=
pped
out, and instead of them there were pictures of babies without faces. She d=
rew
them when she should have been totting up. They were Mrs. Darling's guesses=
.
Wendy came first, then John, then Michael.
For a week or two after Wendy came it was doub=
tful
whether they would be able to keep her, as she was another mouth to feed. M=
r.
Darling was frightfully proud of her, but he was very honourable, and he sa=
t on
the edge of Mrs. Darling's bed, holding her hand and calculating expenses, =
while
she looked at him imploringly. She wanted to risk it, come what might, but =
that
was not his way; his way was with a pencil and a piece of paper, and if she
confused him with suggestions he had to begin at the beginning again.
"Now don't interrupt," he would beg =
of
her.
"I have one pound seventeen here, and two=
and
six at the office; I can cut off my coffee at the office, say ten shillings,
making two nine and six, with your eighteen and three makes three nine seve=
n,
with five naught naught in my cheque-book makes eight nine seven--who is th=
at moving?--eight
nine seven, dot and carry seven--don't speak, my own--and the pound you len=
t to
that man who came to the door--quiet, child--dot and carry child--there, yo=
u've
done it!--did I say nine nine seven? yes, I said nine nine seven; the quest=
ion
is, can we try it for a year on nine nine seven?"
"Of course we can, George," she crie=
d.
But she was prejudiced in Wendy's favour, and he was really the grander
character of the two.
"Remember mumps," he warned her almo=
st
threateningly, and off he went again. "Mumps one pound, that is what I
have put down, but I daresay it will be more like thirty shillings--don't
speak--measles one five, German measles half a guinea, makes two fifteen
six--don't waggle your finger--whooping-cough, say fifteen shillings"-=
-and
so on it went, and it added up differently each time; but at last Wendy just
got through, with mumps reduced to twelve six, and the two kinds of measles=
treated
as one.
There was the same excitement over John, and
Michael had even a narrower squeak; but both were kept, and soon, you might
have seen the three of them going in a row to Miss Fulsom's Kindergarten
school, accompanied by their nurse.
Mrs. Darling loved to have everything just so,=
and
Mr. Darling had a passion for being exactly like his neighbours; so, of cou=
rse,
they had a nurse. As they were poor, owing to the amount of milk the childr=
en drank,
this nurse was a prim Newfoundland dog, called Nana, who had belonged to no=
one
in particular until the Darlings engaged her. She had always thought childr=
en
important, however, and the Darlings had become acquainted with her in
Kensington Gardens, where she spent most of her spare time peeping into per=
ambulators,
and was much hated by careless nursemaids, whom she followed to their homes=
and
complained of to their mistresses. She proved to be quite a treasure of a
nurse. How thorough she was at bath-time, and up at any moment of the night=
if
one of her charges made the slightest cry. Of course her kennel was in the
nursery. She had a genius for knowing when a cough is a thing to have no
patience with and when it needs stocking around your throat. She believed to
her last day in old-fashioned remedies like rhubarb leaf, and made sounds o=
f contempt
over all this new-fangled talk about germs, and so on. It was a lesson in
propriety to see her escorting the children to school, walking sedately by
their side when they were well behaved, and butting them back into line if =
they
strayed. On John's footer [in England soccer was called football,
"footer" for short] days she never once forgot his sweater, and s=
he
usually carried an umbrella in her mouth in case of rain. There is a room in
the basement of Miss Fulsom's school where the nurses wait. They sat on for=
ms,
while Nana lay on the floor, but that was the only difference. They affecte=
d to
ignore her as of an inferior social status to themselves, and she despised
their light talk. She resented visits to the nursery from Mrs. Darling's
friends, but if they did come she first whipped off Michael's pinafore and =
put
him into the one with blue braiding, and smoothed out Wendy and made a dash=
at
John's hair.
No nursery could possibly have been conducted =
more
correctly, and Mr. Darling knew it, yet he sometimes wondered uneasily whet=
her
the neighbours talked.
He had his position in the city to consider. <= o:p>
Nana also troubled him in another way. He had
sometimes a feeling that she did not admire him. "I know she admires y=
ou
tremendously, George," Mrs. Darling would assure him, and then she wou=
ld
sign to the children to be specially nice to father. Lovely dances followed=
, in
which the only other servant, Liza, was sometimes allowed to join. Such a
midget she looked in her long skirt and maid's cap, though she had sworn, w=
hen engaged,
that she would never see ten again. The gaiety of those romps! And gayest of
all was Mrs. Darling, who would pirouette so wildly that all you could see =
of
her was the kiss, and then if you had dashed at her you might have got it.
There never was a simpler happier family until the coming of Peter Pan.
Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was
tidying up her children's minds. It is the nightly custom of every good mot=
her
after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things stra=
ight
for next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that
have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you ca=
n't)
you would see your own mother doing this, and you would find it very
interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would see
her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents,
wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries s=
weet
and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kit=
ten,
and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the
naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up
small and placed at the bottom of your mind and on the top, beautifully air=
ed,
are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.
I don't know whether you have ever seen a map =
of a
person's mind. Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, and your =
own
map can become intensely interesting, but catch them trying to draw a map o=
f a child's
mind, which is not only confused, but keeps going round all the time. There=
are
zigzag lines on it, just like your temperature on a card, and these are
probably roads in the island, for the Neverland is always more or less an
island, with astonishing splashes of colour here and there, and coral reefs=
and
rakish-looking craft in the offing, and savages and lonely lairs, and gnomes
who are mostly tailors, and caves through which a river runs, and princes w=
ith
six elder brothers, and a hut fast going to decay, and one very small old l=
ady
with a hooked nose. It would be an easy map if that were all, but there is =
also
first day at school, religion, fathers, the round pond, needle-work, murder=
s, hangings,
verbs that take the dative, chocolate pudding day, getting into braces, say
ninety-nine, three-pence for pulling out your tooth yourself, and so on, and
either these are part of the island or they are another map showing through=
, and
it is all rather confusing, especially as nothing will stand still.
Of course the Neverlands vary a good deal. Joh=
n's,
for instance, had a lagoon with flamingoes flying over it at which John was
shooting, while Michael, who was very small, had a flamingo with lagoons fl=
ying
over it. John lived in a boat turned upside down on the sands, Michael in a
wigwam, Wendy in a house of leaves deftly sewn together. John had no friend=
s,
Michael had friends at night, Wendy had a pet wolf forsaken by its parents,=
but
on the whole the Neverlands have a family resemblance, and if they stood st=
ill
in a row you could say of them that they have each other's nose, and so for=
th.
On these magic shores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles
[simple boat]. We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the s=
urf,
though we shall land no more.
Of all delectable islands the Neverland is the
snuggest and most compact, not large and sprawly, you know, with tedious
distances between one adventure and another, but nicely crammed. When you p=
lay
at it by day with the chairs and table-cloth, it is not in the least alarmi=
ng, but
in the two minutes before you go to sleep it becomes very real. That is why
there are night-lights.
Occasionally in her travels through her childr=
en's
minds Mrs. Darling found things she could not understand, and of these quite
the most perplexing was the word Peter. She knew of no Peter, and yet he wa=
s here
and there in John and Michael's minds, while Wendy's began to be scrawled a=
ll
over with him. The name stood out in bolder letters than any of the other
words, and as Mrs. Darling gazed she felt that it had an oddly cocky
appearance.
"Yes, he is rather cocky," Wendy
admitted with regret. Her mother had been questioning her.
"But who is he, my pet?"
"He is Peter Pan, you know, mother."=
At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after
thinking back into her childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was sa=
id
to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when
children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be
frightened. She had believed in him at the time, but now that she was marri=
ed
and full of sense she quite doubted whether there was any such person.
"Besides," she said to Wendy, "=
he
would be grown up by this time."
"Oh no, he isn't grown up," Wendy
assured her confidently, "and he is just my size." She meant that=
he
was her size in both mind and body; she didn't know how she knew, she just =
knew
it.
Mrs. Darling consulted Mr. Darling, but he smi=
led
pooh-pooh. "Mark my words," he said, "it is some nonsense Na=
na
has been putting into their heads; just the sort of idea a dog would have.
Leave it alone, and it will blow over."
But it would not blow over and soon the
troublesome boy gave Mrs. Darling quite a shock.
Children have the strangest adventures without
being troubled by them. For instance, they may remember to mention, a week
after the event happened, that when they were in the wood they had met their
dead father and had a game with him. It was in this casual way that Wendy o=
ne morning
made a disquieting revelation. Some leaves of a tree had been found on the
nursery floor, which certainly were not there when the children went to bed,
and Mrs. Darling was puzzling over them when Wendy said with a tolerant smi=
le:
"I do believe it is that Peter again!&quo=
t;
"Whatever do you mean, Wendy?"
"It is so naughty of him not to wipe his
feet," Wendy said, sighing. She was a tidy child.
She explained in quite a matter-of-fact way th=
at
she thought Peter sometimes came to the nursery in the night and sat on the
foot of her bed and played on his pipes to her. Unfortunately she never wok=
e,
so she didn't know how she knew, she just knew.
"What nonsense you talk, precious. No one=
can
get into the house without knocking."
"I think he comes in by the window,"=
she
said.
"My love, it is three floors up."
"Were not the leaves at the foot of the
window, mother?"
It was quite true; the leaves had been found v=
ery
near the window.
Mrs. Darling did not know what to think, for it
all seemed so natural to Wendy that you could not dismiss it by saying she =
had
been dreaming.
"My child," the mother cried, "=
why
did you not tell me of this before?"
"I forgot," said Wendy lightly. She =
was
in a hurry to get her breakfast.
Oh, surely she must have been dreaming.
But, on the other hand, there were the leaves.
Mrs. Darling examined them very carefully; they were skeleton leaves, but s=
he
was sure they did not come from any tree that grew in England. She crawled
about the floor, peering at it with a candle for marks of a strange foot. S=
he rattled
the poker up the chimney and tapped the walls. She let down a tape from the
window to the pavement, and it was a sheer drop of thirty feet, without so =
much
as a spout to climb up by.
Certainly Wendy had been dreaming.
But Wendy had not been dreaming, as the very n=
ext
night showed, the night on which the extraordinary adventures of these chil=
dren
may be said to have begun.
On the night we speak of all the children were
once more in bed. It happened to be Nana's evening off, and Mrs. Darling had
bathed them and sung to them till one by one they had let go her hand and s=
lid
away into the land of sleep.
All were looking so safe and cosy that she smi=
led
at her fears now and sat down tranquilly by the fire to sew.
It was something for Michael, who on his birth=
day
was getting into shirts. The fire was warm, however, and the nursery dimly =
lit
by three night-lights, and presently the sewing lay on Mrs. Darling's lap. =
Then
her head nodded, oh, so gracefully. She was asleep. Look at the four of the=
m,
Wendy and Michael over there, John here, and Mrs. Darling by the fire. There
should have been a fourth night-light.
While she slept she had a dream. She dreamt th=
at
the Neverland had come too near and that a strange boy had broken through f=
rom
it. He did not alarm her, for she thought she had seen him before in the fa=
ces
of many women who have no children. Perhaps he is to be found in the faces =
of some
mothers also. But in her dream he had rent the film that obscures the
Neverland, and she saw Wendy and John and Michael peeping through the gap. =
The dream by itself would have been a trifle, =
but
while she was dreaming the window of the nursery blew open, and a boy did d=
rop
on the floor. He was accompanied by a strange light, no bigger than your fi=
st,
which darted about the room like a living thing and I think it must have be=
en this
light that wakened Mrs. Darling.
She started up with a cry, and saw the boy, and
somehow she knew at once that he was Peter Pan. If you or I or Wendy had be=
en
there we should have seen that he was very like Mrs. Darling's kiss. He was=
a
lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves and the juices that ooze out of trees b=
ut the
most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth. When he
saw she was a grown-up, he gnashed the little pearls at her.
Mrs. Darling screamed, and, as if in answer to=
a
bell, the door opened, and Nana entered, returned from her evening out. She
growled and sprang at the boy, who leapt lightly through the window. Again =
Mrs.
Darling screamed, this time in distress for him, for she thought he was kil=
led,
and she ran down into the street to look for his little body, but it was not
there; and she looked up, and in the black night she could see nothing but =
what
she thought was a shooting star.
She returned to the nursery, and found Nana wi=
th
something in her mouth, which proved to be the boy's shadow. As he leapt at=
the
window Nana had closed it quickly, too late to catch him, but his shadow had
not had time to get out; slam went the window and snapped it off.
You may be sure Mrs. Darling examined the shad=
ow
carefully, but it was quite the ordinary kind.
Nana had no doubt of what was the best thing t=
o do
with this shadow. She hung it out at the window, meaning "He is sure to
come back for it; let us put it where he can get it easily without disturbi=
ng
the children."
But unfortunately Mrs. Darling could not leave=
it
hanging out at the window, it looked so like the washing and lowered the wh=
ole
tone of the house. She thought of showing it to Mr. Darling, but he was tot=
ting
up winter great-coats for John and Michael, with a wet towel around his hea=
d to
keep his brain clear, and it seemed a shame to trouble him; besides, she kn=
ew
exactly what he would say: "It all comes of having a dog for a
nurse."
She decided to roll the shadow up and put it a=
way
carefully in a drawer, until a fitting opportunity came for telling her
husband. Ah me!
The opportunity came a week later, on that
never-to-be-forgotten Friday. Of course it was a Friday.
"I ought to have been specially careful o=
n a
Friday," she used to say afterwards to her husband, while perhaps Nana=
was
on the other side of her, holding her hand.
"No, no," Mr. Darling always said,
"I am responsible for it all. I, George Darling, did it. MEA CULPA, MEA
CULPA." He had had a classical education.
They sat thus night after night recalling that
fatal Friday, till every detail of it was stamped on their brains and came
through on the other side like the faces on a bad coinage.
"If only I had not accepted that invitati=
on
to dine at 27," Mrs. Darling said.
"If only I had not poured my medicine into
Nana's bowl," said Mr. Darling.
"If only I had pretended to like the
medicine," was what Nana's wet eyes said.
"My liking for parties, George."
"My fatal gift of humour, dearest." =
"My touchiness about trifles, dear master=
and
mistress."
Then one or more of them would break down
altogether; Nana at the thought, "It's true, it's true, they ought not=
to
have had a dog for a nurse." Many a time it was Mr. Darling who put the
handkerchief to Nana's eyes.
"That fiend!" Mr. Darling would cry,=
and
Nana's bark was the echo of it, but Mrs. Darling never upbraided Peter; the=
re
was something in the right-hand corner of her mouth that wanted her not to =
call
Peter names.
They would sit there in the empty nursery,
recalling fondly every smallest detail of that dreadful evening. It had beg=
un
so uneventfully, so precisely like a hundred other evenings, with Nana putt=
ing
on the water for Michael's bath and carrying him to it on her back.
"I won't go to bed," he had shouted, like one who still believed that he had the last word on the subject, "= ;I won't, I won't. Nana, it isn't six o'clock yet. Oh dear, oh dear, I shan't = love you any more, Nana. I tell you I won't be bathed, I won't, I won't!" <= o:p>
Then Mrs. Darling had come in, wearing her whi=
te
evening-gown. She had dressed early because Wendy so loved to see her in her
evening-gown, with the necklace George had given her. She was wearing Wendy=
's
bracelet on her arm; she had asked for the loan of it. Wendy loved to lend =
her bracelet
to her mother.
She had found her two older children playing at
being herself and father on the occasion of Wendy's birth, and John was say=
ing:
"I am happy to inform you, Mrs. Darling, =
that
you are now a mother," in just such a tone as Mr. Darling himself may =
have
used on the real occasion.
Wendy had danced with joy, just as the real Mr=
s.
Darling must have done.
Then John was born, with the extra pomp that he
conceived due to the birth of a male, and Michael came from his bath to ask=
to
be born also, but John said brutally that they did not want any more.
Michael had nearly cried. "Nobody wants
me," he said, and of course the lady in the evening-dress could not st=
and
that.
"I do," she said, "I so want a
third child."
"Boy or girl?" asked Michael, not too
hopefully.
"Boy."
Then he had leapt into her arms. Such a little
thing for Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana to recall now, but not so little if
that was to be Michael's last night in the nursery.
They go on with their recollections.
"It was then that I rushed in like a torn=
ado,
wasn't it?" Mr. Darling would say, scorning himself; and indeed he had
been like a tornado.
Perhaps there was some excuse for him. He, too,
had been dressing for the party, and all had gone well with him until he ca=
me
to his tie. It is an astounding thing to have to tell, but this man, though=
he
knew about stocks and shares, had no real mastery of his tie. Sometimes the=
thing
yielded to him without a contest, but there were occasions when it would ha=
ve
been better for the house if he had swallowed his pride and used a made-up =
tie.
This was such an occasion. He came rushing into
the nursery with the crumpled little brute of a tie in his hand.
"Why, what is the matter, father dear?&qu=
ot;
"Matter!" he yelled; he really yelle=
d.
"This tie, it will not tie." He became dangerously sarcastic.
"Not round my neck! Round the bed-post! Oh yes, twenty times have I ma=
de
it up round the bed-post, but round my neck, no! Oh dear no! begs to be
excused!"
He thought Mrs. Darling was not sufficiently
impressed, and he went on sternly, "I warn you of this, mother, that
unless this tie is round my neck we don't go out to dinner to-night, and if=
I
don't go out to dinner to-night, I never go to the office again, and if I d=
on't
go to the office again, you and I starve, and our children will be flung in=
to
the streets."
Even then Mrs. Darling was placid. "Let me
try, dear," she said, and indeed that was what he had come to ask her =
to
do, and with her nice cool hands she tied his tie for him, while the childr=
en
stood around to see their fate decided. Some men would have resented her be=
ing
able to do it so easily, but Mr. Darling had far too fine a nature for that=
; he
thanked her carelessly, at once forgot his rage, and in another moment was
dancing round the room with Michael on his back.
"How wildly we romped!" says Mrs.
Darling now, recalling it.
"Our last romp!" Mr. Darling groaned=
.
"O George, do you remember Michael sudden=
ly
said to me, 'How did you get to know me, mother?'"
"I remember!"
"They were rather sweet, don't you think,
George?"
"And they were ours, ours! and now they a=
re
gone."
The romp had ended with the appearance of Nana,
and most unluckily Mr. Darling collided against her, covering his trousers =
with
hairs. They were not only new trousers, but they were the first he had ever=
had
with braid on them, and he had had to bite his lip to prevent the tears com=
ing.
Of course Mrs. Darling brushed him, but he began to talk again about its be=
ing
a mistake to have a dog for a nurse.
"George, Nana is a treasure."
"No doubt, but I have an uneasy feeling at
times that she looks upon the children as puppies."
"Oh no, dear one, I feel sure she knows t=
hey
have souls."
"I wonder," Mr. Darling said
thoughtfully, "I wonder." It was an opportunity, his wife felt, f=
or
telling him about the boy. At first he pooh-poohed the story, but he became
thoughtful when she showed him the shadow.
"It is nobody I know," he said,
examining it carefully, "but it does look a scoundrel."
"We were still discussing it, you
remember," says Mr. Darling, "when Nana came in with Michael's
medicine. You will never carry the bottle in your mouth again, Nana, and it=
is
all my fault."
Strong man though he was, there is no doubt th=
at
he had behaved rather foolishly over the medicine. If he had a weakness, it=
was
for thinking that all his life he had taken medicine boldly, and so now, wh=
en
Michael dodged the spoon in Nana's mouth, he had said reprovingly, "Be=
a
man, Michael."
"Won't; won't!" Michael cried naught=
ily.
Mrs. Darling left the room to get a chocolate for him, and Mr. Darling thou=
ght
this showed want of firmness.
"Mother, don't pamper him," he calle=
d after
her. "Michael, when I was your age I took medicine without a murmur. I
said, 'Thank you, kind parents, for giving me bottles to make me well.'&quo=
t;
He really thought this was true, and Wendy, who
was now in her night-gown, believed it also, and she said, to encourage
Michael, "That medicine you sometimes take, father, is much nastier, i=
sn't
it?"
"Ever so much nastier," Mr. Darling =
said
bravely, "and I would take it now as an example to you, Michael, if I
hadn't lost the bottle."
He had not exactly lost it; he had climbed in =
the
dead of night to the top of the wardrobe and hidden it there. What he did n=
ot
know was that the faithful Liza had found it, and put it back on his
wash-stand.
"I know where it is, father," Wendy
cried, always glad to be of service. "I'll bring it," and she was=
off
before he could stop her. Immediately his spirits sank in the strangest way=
.
"John," he said, shuddering, "i=
t's
most beastly stuff. It's that nasty, sticky, sweet kind."
"It will soon be over, father," John
said cheerily, and then in rushed Wendy with the medicine in a glass.
"I have been as quick as I could," s=
he
panted.
"You have been wonderfully quick," h=
er
father retorted, with a vindictive politeness that was quite thrown away up=
on
her. "Michael first," he said doggedly.
"Father first," said Michael, who wa=
s of
a suspicious nature.
"I shall be sick, you know," Mr. Dar=
ling
said threateningly.
"Come on, father," said John.
"Hold your tongue, John," his father
rapped out.
Wendy was quite puzzled. "I thought you t=
ook
it quite easily, father."
"That is not the point," he retorted.
"The point is, that there is more in my glass than in Michael's
spoon." His proud heart was nearly bursting. "And it isn't fair: I
would say it though it were with my last breath; it isn't fair."
"Father, I am waiting," said Michael
coldly.
"It's all very well to say you are waitin=
g;
so am I waiting."
"Father's a cowardly custard."
"So are you a cowardly custard."
"I'm not frightened."
"Neither am I frightened."
"Well, then, take it."
"Well, then, you take it."
Wendy had a splendid idea. "Why not both =
take
it at the same time?"
"Certainly," said Mr. Darling. "=
;Are
you ready, Michael?"
Wendy gave the words, one, two, three, and Mic=
hael
took his medicine, but Mr. Darling slipped his behind his back.
There was a yell of rage from Michael, and &qu=
ot;O
father!" Wendy exclaimed.
"What do you mean by 'O father'?" Mr.
Darling demanded. "Stop that row, Michael. I meant to take mine, but I=
--I
missed it."
It was dreadful the way all the three were loo=
king
at him, just as if they did not admire him. "Look here, all of you,&qu=
ot;
he said entreatingly, as soon as Nana had gone into the bathroom. "I h=
ave
just thought of a splendid joke. I shall pour my medicine into Nana's bowl,=
and
she will drink it, thinking it is milk!"
It was the colour of milk; but the children did
not have their father's sense of humour, and they looked at him reproachful=
ly
as he poured the medicine into Nana's bowl. "What fun!" he said
doubtfully, and they did not dare expose him when Mrs. Darling and Nana
returned.
"Nana, good dog," he said, patting h=
er,
"I have put a little milk into your bowl, Nana."
Nana wagged her tail, ran to the medicine, and
began lapping it. Then she gave Mr. Darling such a look, not an angry look:=
she
showed him the great red tear that makes us so sorry for noble dogs, and cr=
ept
into her kennel.
Mr. Darling was frightfully ashamed of himself,
but he would not give in. In a horrid silence Mrs. Darling smelt the bowl.
"O George," she said, "it's your medicine!"
"It was only a joke," he roared, whi=
le
she comforted her boys, and Wendy hugged Nana. "Much good," he sa=
id
bitterly, "my wearing myself to the bone trying to be funny in this
house."
And still Wendy hugged Nana. "That's
right," he shouted. "Coddle her! Nobody coddles me. Oh dear no! I=
am
only the breadwinner, why should I be coddled--why, why, why!"
"George," Mrs. Darling entreated him,
"not so loud; the servants will hear you." Somehow they had got i=
nto
the way of calling Liza the servants.
"Let them!" he answered recklessly.
"Bring in the whole world. But I refuse to allow that dog to lord it i=
n my
nursery for an hour longer."
The children wept, and Nana ran to him
beseechingly, but he waved her back. He felt he was a strong man again.
"In vain, in vain," he cried; "the proper place for you is t=
he
yard, and there you go to be tied up this instant."
"George, George," Mrs. Darling
whispered, "remember what I told you about that boy."
Alas, he would not listen. He was determined to
show who was master in that house, and when commands would not draw Nana fr=
om
the kennel, he lured her out of it with honeyed words, and seizing her roug=
hly,
dragged her from the nursery. He was ashamed of himself, and yet he did it.=
It
was all owing to his too affectionate nature, which craved for admiration. =
When
he had tied her up in the back-yard, the wretched father went and sat in the
passage, with his knuckles to his eyes.
In the meantime Mrs. Darling had put the child=
ren
to bed in unwonted silence and lit their night-lights. They could hear Nana
barking, and John whimpered, "It is because he is chaining her up in t=
he
yard," but Wendy was wiser.
"That is not Nana's unhappy bark," s=
he
said, little guessing what was about to happen; "that is her bark when=
she
smells danger."
Danger!
"Are you sure, Wendy?"
"Oh, yes."
Mrs. Darling quivered and went to the window. =
It
was securely fastened. She looked out, and the night was peppered with star=
s.
They were crowding round the house, as if curious to see what was to take p=
lace
there, but she did not notice this, nor that one or two of the smaller ones
winked at her. Yet a nameless fear clutched at her heart and made her cry,
"Oh, how I wish that I wasn't going to a party to-night!"
Even Michael, already half asleep, knew that s=
he
was perturbed, and he asked, "Can anything harm us, mother, after the
night-lights are lit?"
"Nothing, precious," she said;
"they are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to guard her children.&q=
uot;
She went from bed to bed singing enchantments =
over
them, and little Michael flung his arms round her. "Mother," he
cried, "I'm glad of you." They were the last words she was to hear
from him for a long time.
No. 27 was only a few yards distant, but there=
had
been a slight fall of snow, and Father and Mother Darling picked their way =
over
it deftly not to soil their shoes. They were already the only persons in the
street, and all the stars were watching them. Stars are beautiful, but they=
may
not take an active part in anything, they must just look on for ever. It is=
a
punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now
knows what it was. So the older ones have become glassy-eyed and seldom spe=
ak
(winking is the star language), but the little ones still wonder. They are =
not
really friendly to Peter, who had a mischievous way of stealing up behind t=
hem
and trying to blow them out; but they are so fond of fun that they were on =
his
side to-night, and anxious to get the grown-ups out of the way. So as soon =
as
the door of 27 closed on Mr. and Mrs. Darling there was a commotion in the =
firmament,
and the smallest of all the stars in the Milky Way screamed out:
"Now, Peter!"
For a moment after Mr. and Mrs. Darling left t=
he
house the night-lights by the beds of the three children continued to burn
clearly. They were awfully nice little night-lights, and one cannot help
wishing that they could have kept awake to see Peter; but Wendy's light bli=
nked
and gave such a yawn that the other two yawned also, and before they could
close their mouths all the three went out.
There was another light in the room now, a
thousand times brighter than the night-lights, and in the time we have take=
n to
say this, it had been in all the drawers in the nursery, looking for Peter's
shadow, rummaged the wardrobe and turned every pocket inside out. It was not
really a light; it made this light by flashing about so quickly, but when it
came to rest for a second you saw it was a fairy, no longer than your hand,=
but
still growing. It was a girl called Tinker Bell exquisitely gowned in a
skeleton leaf, cut low and square, through which her figure could be seen to
the best advantage. She was slightly inclined to EMBONPOINT. [plump hourgla=
ss
figure]
A moment after the fairy's entrance the window=
was
blown open by the breathing of the little stars, and Peter dropped in. He h=
ad
carried Tinker Bell part of the way, and his hand was still messy with the
fairy dust.
"Tinker Bell," he called softly, aft=
er
making sure that the children were asleep, "Tink, where are you?"=
She
was in a jug for the moment, and liking it extremely; she had never been in=
a
jug before.
"Oh, do come out of that jug, and tell me=
, do
you know where they put my shadow?"
The loveliest tinkle as of golden bells answer=
ed
him. It is the fairy language. You ordinary children can never hear it, but=
if
you were to hear it you would know that you had heard it once before.
Tink said that the shadow was in the big box. =
She
meant the chest of drawers, and Peter jumped at the drawers, scattering the=
ir
contents to the floor with both hands, as kings toss ha'pence to the crowd.=
In
a moment he had recovered his shadow, and in his delight he forgot that he =
had
shut Tinker Bell up in the drawer.
If he thought at all, but I don't believe he e=
ver
thought, it was that he and his shadow, when brought near each other, would
join like drops of water, and when they did not he was appalled. He tried to
stick it on with soap from the bathroom, but that also failed. A shudder pa=
ssed
through Peter, and he sat on the floor and cried.
His sobs woke Wendy, and she sat up in bed. She
was not alarmed to see a stranger crying on the nursery floor; she was only
pleasantly interested.
"Boy," she said courteously, "w=
hy
are you crying?"
Peter could be exceeding polite also, having
learned the grand manner at fairy ceremonies, and he rose and bowed to her
beautifully. She was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the be=
d.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Wendy Moira Angela Darling," she
replied with some satisfaction. "What is your name?"
"Peter Pan."
She was already sure that he must be Peter, bu=
t it
did seem a comparatively short name.
"Is that all?"
"Yes," he said rather sharply. He fe=
lt
for the first time that it was a shortish name.
"I'm so sorry," said Wendy Moira Ang=
ela.
"It doesn't matter," Peter gulped. <= o:p>
She asked where he lived.
"Second to the right," said Peter,
"and then straight on till morning."
"What a funny address!"
Peter had a sinking. For the first time he felt
that perhaps it was a funny address.
"No, it isn't," he said.
"I mean," Wendy said nicely, remembe=
ring
that she was hostess, "is that what they put on the letters?"
He wished she had not mentioned letters.
"Don't get any letters," he said
contemptuously.
"But your mother gets letters?"
"Don't have a mother," he said. Not =
only
had he no mother, but he had not the slightest desire to have one. He thoug=
ht
them very over-rated persons. Wendy, however, felt at once that she was in =
the
presence of a tragedy.
"O Peter, no wonder you were crying,"
she said, and got out of bed and ran to him.
"I wasn't crying about mothers," he =
said
rather indignantly. "I was crying because I can't get my shadow to sti=
ck
on. Besides, I wasn't crying."
"It has come off?"
"Yes."
Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor, lookin=
g so
draggled, and she was frightfully sorry for Peter. "How awful!" s=
he
said, but she could not help smiling when she saw that he had been trying to
stick it on with soap. How exactly like a boy!
Fortunately she knew at once what to do. "=
;It
must be sewn on," she said, just a little patronisingly.
"What's sewn?" he asked.
"You're dreadfully ignorant."
"No, I'm not."
But she was exulting in his ignorance. "I
shall sew it on for you, my little man," she said, though he was tall =
as
herself, and she got out her housewife [sewing bag], and sewed the shadow o=
n to
Peter's foot.
"I daresay it will hurt a little," s=
he
warned him.
"Oh, I shan't cry," said Peter, who =
was
already of the opinion that he had never cried in his life. And he clenched=
his
teeth and did not cry, and soon his shadow was behaving properly, though st=
ill
a little creased.
"Perhaps I should have ironed it," W=
endy
said thoughtfully, but Peter, boylike, was indifferent to appearances, and =
he
was now jumping about in the wildest glee. Alas, he had already forgotten t=
hat
he owed his bliss to Wendy. He thought he had attached the shadow himself.
"How clever I am!" he crowed rapturously, "oh, the clevernes=
s of
me!"
It is humiliating to have to confess that this
conceit of Peter was one of his most fascinating qualities. To put it with
brutal frankness, there never was a cockier boy.
But for the moment Wendy was shocked. "You
conceit [braggart]," she exclaimed, with frightful sarcasm; "of
course I did nothing!"
"You did a little," Peter said
carelessly, and continued to dance.
"A little!" she replied with hauteur
[pride]; "if I am no use I can at least withdraw," and she sprang=
in
the most dignified way into bed and covered her face with the blankets.
To induce her to look up he pretended to be go=
ing
away, and when this failed he sat on the end of the bed and tapped her gent=
ly
with his foot. "Wendy," he said, "don't withdraw. I can't he=
lp
crowing, Wendy, when I'm pleased with myself." Still she would not loo=
k up,
though she was listening eagerly. "Wendy," he continued, in a voi=
ce
that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, "Wendy, one girl is mo=
re
use than twenty boys."
Now Wendy was every inch a woman, though there
were not very many inches, and she peeped out of the bed-clothes.
"Do you really think so, Peter?"
"Yes, I do."
"I think it's perfectly sweet of you,&quo=
t;
she declared, "and I'll get up again," and she sat with him on the
side of the bed. She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but P=
eter
did not know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly.
"Surely you know what a kiss is?" she
asked, aghast.
"I shall know when you give it to me,&quo=
t;
he replied stiffly, and not to hurt his feeling she gave him a thimble.
"Now," said he, "shall I give y=
ou a
kiss?" and she replied with a slight primness, "If you please.&qu=
ot;
She made herself rather cheap by inclining her face toward him, but he mere=
ly
dropped an acorn button into her hand, so she slowly returned her face to w=
here
it had been before, and said nicely that she would wear his kiss on the cha=
in
around her neck. It was lucky that she did put it on that chain, for it was
afterwards to save her life.
When people in our set are introduced, it is
customary for them to ask each other's age, and so Wendy, who always liked =
to
do the correct thing, asked Peter how old he was. It was not really a happy
question to ask him; it was like an examination paper that asks grammar, wh=
en
what you want to be asked is Kings of England.
"I don't know," he replied uneasily,
"but I am quite young." He really knew nothing about it, he had
merely suspicions, but he said at a venture, "Wendy, I ran away the da=
y I
was born."
Wendy was quite surprised, but interested; and=
she
indicated in the charming drawing-room manner, by a touch on her night-gown,
that he could sit nearer her.
"It was because I heard father and
mother," he explained in a low voice, "talking about what I was t=
o be
when I became a man." He was extraordinarily agitated now. "I don=
't
want ever to be a man," he said with passion. "I want always to b=
e a
little boy and to have fun. So I ran away to Kensington Gardens and lived a
long long time among the fairies."
She gave him a look of the most intense
admiration, and he thought it was because he had run away, but it was really
because he knew fairies. Wendy had lived such a home life that to know fair=
ies
struck her as quite delightful. She poured out questions about them, to his
surprise, for they were rather a nuisance to him, getting in his way and so=
on,
and indeed he sometimes had to give them a hiding [spanking]. Still, he lik=
ed
them on the whole, and he told her about the beginning of fairies.
"You see, Wendy, when the first baby laug=
hed
for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all we=
nt
skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies."
Tedious talk this, but being a stay-at-home she
liked it.
"And so," he went on good-naturedly,
"there ought to be one fairy for every boy and girl."
"Ought to be? Isn't there?"
"No. You see children know such a lot now,
they soon don't believe in fairies, and every time a child says, 'I don't
believe in fairies,' there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead."=
Really, he thought they had now talked enough
about fairies, and it struck him that Tinker Bell was keeping very quiet.
"I can't think where she has gone to," he said, rising, and he ca=
lled
Tink by name. Wendy's heart went flutter with a sudden thrill.
"Peter," she cried, clutching him, "you don't mean to tell me that there is a fairy in this room!" <= o:p>
"She was here just now," he said a
little impatiently. "You don't hear her, do you?" and they both
listened.
"The only sound I hear," said Wendy,
"is like a tinkle of bells."
"Well, that's Tink, that's the fairy lang=
uage.
I think I hear her too."
The sound came from the chest of drawers, and
Peter made a merry face. No one could ever look quite so merry as Peter, and
the loveliest of gurgles was his laugh. He had his first laugh still.
"Wendy," he whispered gleefully, &qu=
ot;I
do believe I shut her up in the drawer!"
He let poor Tink out of the drawer, and she fl=
ew
about the nursery screaming with fury. "You shouldn't say such
things," Peter retorted. "Of course I'm very sorry, but how could=
I
know you were in the drawer?"
Wendy was not listening to him. "O
Peter," she cried, "if she would only stand still and let me see
her!"
"They hardly ever stand still," he s=
aid,
but for one moment Wendy saw the romantic figure come to rest on the cuckoo
clock. "O the lovely!" she cried, though Tink's face was still
distorted with passion.
"Tink," said Peter amiably, "th=
is
lady says she wishes you were her fairy."
Tinker Bell answered insolently.
"What does she say, Peter?"
He had to translate. "She is not very pol=
ite.
She says you are a great [huge] ugly girl, and that she is my fairy." =
He tried to argue with Tink. "You know you
can't be my fairy, Tink, because I am an gentleman and you are a lady."=
;
To this Tink replied in these words, "You
silly ass," and disappeared into the bathroom. "She is quite a co=
mmon
fairy," Peter explained apologetically, "she is called Tinker Bell
because she mends the pots and kettles [tinker =3D tin worker]." [Simi=
lar to
"cinder" plus "elle" to get Cinderella]
They were together in the armchair by this tim=
e,
and Wendy plied him with more questions.
"If you don't live in Kensington Gardens
now--"
"Sometimes I do still."
"But where do you live mostly now?" =
"With the lost boys."
"Who are they?"
"They are the children who fall out of th=
eir
perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not clai=
med
in seven days they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expenses. I=
'm captain."
"What fun it must be!"
"Yes," said cunning Peter, "but=
we
are rather lonely. You see we have no female companionship."
"Are none of the others girls?"
"Oh, no; girls, you know, are much too cl=
ever
to fall out of their prams."
This flattered Wendy immensely. "I
think," she said, "it is perfectly lovely the way you talk about
girls; John there just despises us."
For reply Peter rose and kicked John out of be=
d,
blankets and all; one kick. This seemed to Wendy rather forward for a first
meeting, and she told him with spirit that he was not captain in her house.
However, John continued to sleep so placidly on the floor that she allowed =
him to
remain there. "And I know you meant to be kind," she said, relent=
ing,
"so you may give me a kiss."
For the moment she had forgotten his ignorance
about kisses. "I thought you would want it back," he said a little
bitterly, and offered to return her the thimble.
"Oh dear," said the nice Wendy, &quo=
t;I
don't mean a kiss, I mean a thimble."
"What's that?"
"It's like this." She kissed him.
"Funny!" said Peter gravely. "N=
ow
shall I give you a thimble?"
"If you wish to," said Wendy, keeping
her head erect this time.
Peter thimbled her, and almost immediately she
screeched. "What is it, Wendy?"
"It was exactly as if someone were pullin=
g my
hair."
"That must have been Tink. I never knew h=
er
so naughty before."
And indeed Tink was darting about again, using
offensive language.
"She says she will do that to you, Wendy,
every time I give you a thimble."
"But why?"
"Why, Tink?"
Again Tink replied, "You silly ass."
Peter could not understand why, but Wendy understood, and she was just slig=
htly
disappointed when he admitted that he came to the nursery window not to see=
her
but to listen to stories.
"You see, I don't know any stories. None =
of
the lost boys knows any stories."
"How perfectly awful," Wendy said. <= o:p>
"Do you know," Peter asked "why
swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories. O We=
ndy,
your mother was telling you such a lovely story."
"Which story was it?"
"About the prince who couldn't find the l=
ady
who wore the glass slipper."
"Peter," said Wendy excitedly,
"that was Cinderella, and he found her, and they lived happily ever
after."
Peter was so glad that he rose from the floor,
where they had been sitting, and hurried to the window.
"Where are you going?" she cried with
misgiving.
"To tell the other boys."
"Don't go Peter," she entreated, &qu=
ot;I
know such lots of stories."
Those were her precise words, so there can be =
no
denying that it was she who first tempted him.
He came back, and there was a greedy look in h=
is
eyes now which ought to have alarmed her, but did not.
"Oh, the stories I could tell to the
boys!" she cried, and then Peter gripped her and began to draw her tow=
ard
the window.
"Let me go!" she ordered him.
"Wendy, do come with me and tell the other
boys."
Of course she was very pleased to be asked, but
she said, "Oh dear, I can't. Think of mummy! Besides, I can't fly.&quo=
t;
"I'll teach you."
"Oh, how lovely to fly."
"I'll teach you how to jump on the wind's
back, and then away we go."
"Oo!" she exclaimed rapturously.
"Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in y=
our
silly bed you might be flying about with me saying funny things to the
stars."
"Oo!"
"And, Wendy, there are mermaids."
"Mermaids! With tails?"
"Such long tails."
"Oh," cried Wendy, "to see a
mermaid!"
He had become frightfully cunning.
"Wendy," he said, "how we should all respect you."
She was wriggling her body in distress. It was
quite as if she were trying to remain on the nursery floor.
But he had no pity for her.
"Wendy," he said, the sly one, "=
;you
could tuck us in at night."
"Oo!"
"None of us has ever been tucked in at
night."
"Oo," and her arms went out to him. =
"And you could darn our clothes, and make
pockets for us. None of us has any pockets."
How could she resist. "Of course it's awf=
ully
fascinating!" she cried. "Peter, would you teach John and Michael=
to
fly too?"
"If you like," he said indifferently,
and she ran to John and Michael and shook them. "Wake up," she cr=
ied,
"Peter Pan has come and he is to teach us to fly."
John rubbed his eyes. "Then I shall get
up," he said. Of course he was on the floor already. "Hallo,"=
; he
said, "I am up!"
Michael was up by this time also, looking as s=
harp
as a knife with six blades and a saw, but Peter suddenly signed silence. Th=
eir
faces assumed the awful craftiness of children listening for sounds from the
grown-up world. All was as still as salt. Then everything was right. No, st=
op! Everything
was wrong. Nana, who had been barking distressfully all the evening, was qu=
iet
now. It was her silence they had heard.
"Out with the light! Hide! Quick!" c=
ried
John, taking command for the only time throughout the whole adventure. And =
thus
when Liza entered, holding Nana, the nursery seemed quite its old self, very
dark, and you would have sworn you heard its three wicked inmates breathing=
angelically
as they slept. They were really doing it artfully from behind the window
curtains.
Liza was in a bad temper, for she was mixing t=
he
Christmas puddings in the kitchen, and had been drawn from them, with a rai=
sin
still on her cheek, by Nana's absurd suspicions. She thought the best way of
getting a little quiet was to take Nana to the nursery for a moment, but in=
custody
of course.
"There, you suspicious brute," she s=
aid,
not sorry that Nana was in disgrace. "They are perfectly safe, aren't
they? Every one of the little angels sound asleep in bed. Listen to their
gentle breathing."
Here Michael, encouraged by his success, breat=
hed
so loudly that they were nearly detected. Nana knew that kind of breathing,=
and
she tried to drag herself out of Liza's clutches.
But Liza was dense. "No more of it,
Nana," she said sternly, pulling her out of the room. "I warn you=
if
you bark again I shall go straight for master and missus and bring them home
from the party, and then, oh, won't master whip you, just."
She tied the unhappy dog up again, but do you
think Nana ceased to bark? Bring master and missus home from the party! Why,
that was just what she wanted. Do you think she cared whether she was whipp=
ed
so long as her charges were safe? Unfortunately Liza returned to her puddin=
gs,
and Nana, seeing that no help would come from her, strained and strained at=
the
chain until at last she broke it. In another moment she had burst into the
dining-room of 27 and flung up her paws to heaven, her most expressive way =
of
making a communication. Mr. and Mrs. Darling knew at once that something
terrible was happening in their nursery, and without a good-bye to their
hostess they rushed into the street.
But it was now ten minutes since three scoundr=
els
had been breathing behind the curtains, and Peter Pan can do a great deal in
ten minutes.
We now return to the nursery.
"It's all right," John announced,
emerging from his hiding-place. "I say, Peter, can you really fly?&quo=
t;
Instead of troubling to answer him Peter flew
around the room, taking the mantelpiece on the way.
"How topping!" said John and Michael=
.
"How sweet!" cried Wendy.
"Yes, I'm sweet, oh, I am sweet!" sa=
id
Peter, forgetting his manners again.
It looked delightfully easy, and they tried it
first from the floor and then from the beds, but they always went down inst=
ead
of up.
"I say, how do you do it?" asked Joh=
n,
rubbing his knee. He was quite a practical boy.
"You just think lovely wonderful
thoughts," Peter explained, "and they lift you up in the air.&quo=
t;
He showed them again.
"You're so nippy at it," John said,
"couldn't you do it very slowly once?"
Peter did it both slowly and quickly. "I'=
ve
got it now, Wendy!" cried John, but soon he found he had not. Not one =
of
them could fly an inch, though even Michael was in words of two syllables, =
and
Peter did not know A from Z.
Of course Peter had been trifling with them, f=
or
no one can fly unless the fairy dust has been blown on him. Fortunately, as=
we
have mentioned, one of his hands was messy with it, and he blew some on eac=
h of
them, with the most superb results.
"Now just wiggle your shoulders this
way," he said, "and let go."
They were all on their beds, and gallant Micha=
el
let go first. He did not quite mean to let go, but he did it, and immediate=
ly
he was borne across the room.
"I flewed!" he screamed while still =
in
mid-air.
John let go and met Wendy near the bathroom. <= o:p>
"Oh, lovely!"
"Oh, ripping!"
"Look at me!"
"Look at me!"
"Look at me!"
They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they
could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the
ceiling, and there is almost nothing so delicious as that. Peter gave Wendy=
a
hand at first, but had to desist, Tink was so indignant.
Up and down they went, and round and round.
Heavenly was Wendy's word.
"I say," cried John, "why shoul=
dn't
we all go out?"
Of course it was to this that Peter had been
luring them.
Michael was ready: he wanted to see how long it
took him to do a billion miles. But Wendy hesitated.
"Mermaids!" said Peter again.
"Oo!"
"And there are pirates."
"Pirates," cried John, seizing his
Sunday hat, "let us go at once."
It was just at this moment that Mr. and Mrs.
Darling hurried with Nana out of 27. They ran into the middle of the street=
to
look up at the nursery window; and, yes, it was still shut, but the room was
ablaze with light, and most heart-gripping sight of all, they could see in =
shadow
on the curtain three little figures in night attire circling round and roun=
d,
not on the floor but in the air.
Not three figures, four!
In a tremble they opened the street door. Mr.
Darling would have rushed upstairs, but Mrs. Darling signed him to go softl=
y.
She even tried to make her heart go softly.
Will they reach the nursery in time? If so, ho=
w delightful
for them, and we shall all breathe a sigh of relief, but there will be no
story. On the other hand, if they are not in time, I solemnly promise that =
it
will all come right in the end.
They would have reached the nursery in time ha=
d it
not been that the little stars were watching them. Once again the stars blew
the window open, and that smallest star of all called out:
"Cave, Peter!"
Then Peter knew that there was not a moment to
lose. "Come," he cried imperiously, and soared out at once into t=
he
night, followed by John and Michael and Wendy.
Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana rushed into the
nursery too late. The birds were flown.
"Second to the right, and straight on till
morning."
That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to the
Neverland; but even birds, carrying maps and consulting them at windy corne=
rs,
could not have sighted it with these instructions. Peter, you see, just sai=
d anything
that came into his head.
At first his companions trusted him implicitly, and so great were the delights of flying that they wasted time circling rou= nd church spires or any other tall objects on the way that took their fancy. <= o:p>
John and Michael raced, Michael getting a star=
t.
They recalled with contempt that not so long a=
go
they had thought themselves fine fellows for being able to fly round a room=
.
Not long ago. But how long ago? They were flyi=
ng
over the sea before this thought began to disturb Wendy seriously. John tho=
ught
it was their second sea and their third night.
Sometimes it was dark and sometimes light, and=
now
they were very cold and again too warm. Did they really feel hungry at time=
s,
or were they merely pretending, because Peter had such a jolly new way of
feeding them? His way was to pursue birds who had food in their mouths suit=
able
for humans and snatch it from them; then the birds would follow and snatch =
it
back; and they would all go chasing each other gaily for miles, parting at =
last
with mutual expressions of good-will. But Wendy noticed with gentle concern
that Peter did not seem to know that this was rather an odd way of getting =
your
bread and butter, nor even that there are other ways.
Certainly they did not pretend to be sleepy, t=
hey
were sleepy; and that was a danger, for the moment they popped off, down th=
ey
fell. The awful thing was that Peter thought this funny.
"There he goes again!" he would cry
gleefully, as Michael suddenly dropped like a stone.
"Save him, save him!" cried Wendy,
looking with horror at the cruel sea far below. Eventually Peter would dive=
through
the air, and catch Michael just before he could strike the sea, and it was
lovely the way he did it; but he always waited till the last moment, and you
felt it was his cleverness that interested him and not the saving of human
life. Also he was fond of variety, and the sport that engrossed him one mom=
ent would
suddenly cease to engage him, so there was always the possibility that the =
next
time you fell he would let you go.
He could sleep in the air without falling, by
merely lying on his back and floating, but this was, partly at least, becau=
se
he was so light that if you got behind him and blew he went faster.
"Do be more polite to him," Wendy
whispered to John, when they were playing "Follow my Leader."
"Then tell him to stop showing off,"
said John.
When playing Follow my Leader, Peter would fly
close to the water and touch each shark's tail in passing, just as in the
street you may run your finger along an iron railing. They could not follow=
him
in this with much success, so perhaps it was rather like showing off,
especially as he kept looking behind to see how many tails they missed.
"You must be nice to him," Wendy
impressed on her brothers. "What could we do if he were to leave us!&q=
uot;
"We could go back," Michael said.
"How could we ever find our way back with=
out
him?"
"Well, then, we could go on," said J=
ohn.
"That is the awful thing, John. We should
have to go on, for we don't know how to stop."
This was true, Peter had forgotten to show them
how to stop.
John said that if the worst came to the worst,=
all
they had to do was to go straight on, for the world was round, and so in ti=
me
they must come back to their own window.
"And who is to get food for us, John?&quo=
t;
"I nipped a bit out of that eagle's mouth
pretty neatly, Wendy."
"After the twentieth try," Wendy
reminded him. "And even though we became good at picking up food, see =
how
we bump against clouds and things if he is not near to give us a hand."=
;
Indeed they were constantly bumping. They could
now fly strongly, though they still kicked far too much; but if they saw a
cloud in front of them, the more they tried to avoid it, the more certainly=
did
they bump into it. If Nana had been with them, she would have had a bandage
round Michael's forehead by this time.
Peter was not with them for the moment, and th=
ey
felt rather lonely up there by themselves. He could go so much faster than =
they
that he would suddenly shoot out of sight, to have some adventure in which =
they
had no share. He would come down laughing over something fearfully funny he=
had
been saying to a star, but he had already forgotten what it was, or he would
come up with mermaid scales still sticking to him, and yet not be able to s=
ay
for certain what had been happening. It was really rather irritating to
children who had never seen a mermaid.
"And if he forgets them so quickly,"
Wendy argued, "how can we expect that he will go on remembering us?&qu=
ot;
Indeed, sometimes when he returned he did not
remember them, at least not well. Wendy was sure of it. She saw recognition
come into his eyes as he was about to pass them the time of day and go on; =
once
even she had to call him by name.
"I'm Wendy," she said agitatedly.
He was very sorry. "I say, Wendy," he
whispered to her, "always if you see me forgetting you, just keep on
saying 'I'm Wendy,' and then I'll remember."
Of course this was rather unsatisfactory. Howe=
ver,
to make amends he showed them how to lie out flat on a strong wind that was
going their way, and this was such a pleasant change that they tried it sev=
eral
times and found that they could sleep thus with security. Indeed they would
have slept longer, but Peter tired quickly of sleeping, and soon he would c=
ry
in his captain voice, "We get off here." So with occasional tiffs,
but on the whole rollicking, they drew near the Neverland; for after many m=
oons
they did reach it, and, what is more, they had been going pretty straight a=
ll
the time, not perhaps so much owing to the guidance of Peter or Tink as bec=
ause
the island was looking for them. It is only thus that any one may sight tho=
se
magic shores.
"There it is," said Peter calmly.
"Where, where?"
"Where all the arrows are pointing."=
Indeed a million golden arrows were pointing it
out to the children, all directed by their friend the sun, who wanted them =
to
be sure of their way before leaving them for the night.
Wendy and John and Michael stood on tip-toe in=
the
air to get their first sight of the island. Strange to say, they all recogn=
ized
it at once, and until fear fell upon them they hailed it, not as something =
long
dreamt of and seen at last, but as a familiar friend to whom they were
returning home for the holidays.
"John, there's the lagoon."
"Wendy, look at the turtles burying their
eggs in the sand."
"I say, John, I see your flamingo with the
broken leg!"
"Look, Michael, there's your cave!" =
"John, what's that in the brushwood?"=
;
"It's a wolf with her whelps. Wendy, I do
believe that's your little whelp!"
"There's my boat, John, with her sides st=
ove
in!"
"No, it isn't. Why, we burned your
boat."
"That's her, at any rate. I say, John, I =
see
the smoke of the redskin camp!"
"Where? Show me, and I'll tell you by the=
way
smoke curls whether they are on the war-path."
"There, just across the Mysterious
River."
"I see now. Yes, they are on the war-path
right enough."
Peter was a little annoyed with them for knowi=
ng
so much, but if he wanted to lord it over them his triumph was at hand, for
have I not told you that anon fear fell upon them?
It came as the arrows went, leaving the island=
in
gloom.
In the old days at home the Neverland had alwa=
ys
begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored pat=
ches
arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the
beasts of prey was quite different now, and above all, you lost the certain=
ty
that you would win. You were quite glad that the night-lights were on. You =
even
liked Nana to say that this was just the mantelpiece over here, and that the
Neverland was all make-believe.
Of course the Neverland had been make-believe =
in
those days, but it was real now, and there were no night-lights, and it was
getting darker every moment, and where was Nana?
They had been flying apart, but they huddled c=
lose
to Peter now. His careless manner had gone at last, his eyes were sparkling,
and a tingle went through them every time they touched his body. They were =
now
over the fearsome island, flying so low that sometimes a tree grazed their =
feet.
Nothing horrid was visible in the air, yet their progress had become slow a=
nd
laboured, exactly as if they were pushing their way through hostile forces.
Sometimes they hung in the air until Peter had beaten on it with his fists.=
"They don't want us to land," he
explained.
"Who are they?" Wendy whispered,
shuddering.
But he could not or would not say. Tinker Bell=
had
been asleep on his shoulder, but now he wakened her and sent her on in fron=
t.
Sometimes he poised himself in the air, listen=
ing
intently, with his hand to his ear, and again he would stare down with eyes=
so
bright that they seemed to bore two holes to earth. Having done these thing=
s,
he went on again.
His courage was almost appalling. "Would =
you
like an adventure now," he said casually to John, "or would you l=
ike
to have your tea first?"
Wendy said "tea first" quickly, and
Michael pressed her hand in gratitude, but the braver John hesitated.
"What kind of adventure?" he asked
cautiously.
"There's a pirate asleep in the pampas ju=
st
beneath us," Peter told him. "If you like, we'll go down and kill
him."
"I don't see him," John said after a
long pause.
"I do."
"Suppose," John said, a little huski=
ly,
"he were to wake up."
Peter spoke indignantly. "You don't think=
I
would kill him while he was sleeping! I would wake him first, and then kill
him. That's the way I always do."
"I say! Do you kill many?"
"Tons."
John said "How ripping," but decided=
to
have tea first. He asked if there were many pirates on the island just now,=
and
Peter said he had never known so many.
"Who is captain now?"
"Hook," answered Peter, and his face
became very stern as he said that hated word.
"Jas. Hook?"
"Ay."
Then indeed Michael began to cry, and even John
could speak in gulps only, for they knew Hook's reputation.
"He was Blackbeard's bo'sun," John
whispered huskily. "He is the worst of them all. He is the only man of
whom Barbecue was afraid."
"That's him," said Peter.
"What is he like? Is he big?"
"He is not so big as he was."
"How do you mean?"
"I cut off a bit of him."
"You!"
"Yes, me," said Peter sharply.
"I wasn't meaning to be disrespectful.&qu=
ot;
"Oh, all right."
"But, I say, what bit?"
"His right hand."
"Then he can't fight now?"
"Oh, can't he just!"
"Left-hander?"
"He has an iron hook instead of a right h=
and,
and he claws with it."
"Claws!"
"I say, John," said Peter.
"Yes."
"Say, 'Ay, ay, sir.'"
"Ay, ay, sir."
"There is one thing," Peter continue=
d,
"that every boy who serves under me has to promise, and so must you.&q=
uot;
John paled.
"It is this, if we meet Hook in open figh=
t,
you must leave him to me."
"I promise," John said loyally.
For the moment they were feeling less eerie,
because Tink was flying with them, and in her light they could distinguish =
each
other. Unfortunately she could not fly so slowly as they, and so she had to=
go round
and round them in a circle in which they moved as in a halo. Wendy quite li=
ked
it, until Peter pointed out the drawbacks.
"She tells me," he said, "that =
the
pirates sighted us before the darkness came, and got Long Tom out."
"The big gun?"
"Yes. And of course they must see her lig=
ht,
and if they guess we are near it they are sure to let fly."
"Wendy!"
"John!"
"Michael!"
"Tell her to go away at once, Peter,"
the three cried simultaneously, but he refused.
"She thinks we have lost the way," he
replied stiffly, "and she is rather frightened. You don't think I would
send her away all by herself when she is frightened!"
For a moment the circle of light was broken, a=
nd
something gave Peter a loving little pinch.
"Then tell her," Wendy begged, "=
;to
put out her light."
"She can't put it out. That is about the =
only
thing fairies can't do. It just goes out of itself when she falls asleep, s=
ame
as the stars."
"Then tell her to sleep at once," Jo=
hn
almost ordered.
"She can't sleep except when she's sleepy=
. It
is the only other thing fairies can't do."
"Seems to me," growled John, "t=
hese
are the only two things worth doing."
Here he got a pinch, but not a loving one.
"If only one of us had a pocket," Pe=
ter
said, "we could carry her in it." However, they had set off in su=
ch a
hurry that there was not a pocket between the four of them.
He had a happy idea. John's hat!
Tink agreed to travel by hat if it was carried=
in
the hand. John carried it, though she had hoped to be carried by Peter.
Presently Wendy took the hat, because John said it struck against his knee =
as
he flew; and this, as we shall see, led to mischief, for Tinker Bell hated =
to
be under an obligation to Wendy.
In the black topper the light was completely
hidden, and they flew on in silence. It was the stillest silence they had e=
ver
known, broken once by a distant lapping, which Peter explained was the wild
beasts drinking at the ford, and again by a rasping sound that might have b=
een
the branches of trees rubbing together, but he said it was the redskins
sharpening their knives.
Even these noises ceased. To Michael the
loneliness was dreadful. "If only something would make a sound!" =
he
cried.
As if in answer to his request, the air was re=
nt
by the most tremendous crash he had ever heard. The pirates had fired Long =
Tom
at them.
The roar of it echoed through the mountains, a=
nd
the echoes seemed to cry savagely, "Where are they, where are they, wh=
ere
are they?"
Thus sharply did the terrified three learn the
difference between an island of make-believe and the same island come true.=
When at last the heavens were steady again, Jo=
hn
and Michael found themselves alone in the darkness. John was treading the a=
ir mechanically,
and Michael without knowing how to float was floating.
"Are you shot?" John whispered
tremulously.
"I haven't tried [myself out] yet,"
Michael whispered back.
We know now that no one had been hit. Peter,
however, had been carried by the wind of the shot far out to sea, while Wen=
dy
was blown upwards with no companion but Tinker Bell.
It would have been well for Wendy if at that
moment she had dropped the hat.
I don't know whether the idea came suddenly to
Tink, or whether she had planned it on the way, but she at once popped out =
of
the hat and began to lure Wendy to her destruction.
Tink was not all bad; or, rather, she was all =
bad
just now, but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have =
to
be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have r=
oom
for one feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to change, only =
it must
be a complete change. At present she was full of jealousy of Wendy. What she
said in her lovely tinkle Wendy could not of course understand, and I belie=
ve
some of it was bad words, but it sounded kind, and she flew back and forwar=
d,
plainly meaning "Follow me, and all will be well."
What else could poor Wendy do? She called to P=
eter
and John and Michael, and got only mocking echoes in reply. She did not yet
know that Tink hated her with the fierce hatred of a very woman. And so,
bewildered, and now staggering in her flight, she followed Tink to her doom=
.
Feeling that Peter was on his way back, the
Neverland had again woke into life. We ought to use the pluperfect and say
wakened, but woke is better and was always used by Peter.
In his absence things are usually quiet on the
island. The fairies take an hour longer in the morning, the beasts attend to
their young, the redskins feed heavily for six days and nights, and when
pirates and lost boys meet they merely bite their thumbs at each other. But
with the coming of Peter, who hates lethargy, they are under way again: if =
you put
your ear to the ground now, you would hear the whole island seething with l=
ife.
On this evening the chief forces of the island
were disposed as follows. The lost boys were out looking for Peter, the pir=
ates
were out looking for the lost boys, the redskins were out looking for the
pirates, and the beasts were out looking for the redskins. They were going
round and round the island, but they did not meet because all were going at=
the
same rate.
All wanted blood except the boys, who liked it=
as
a rule, but to-night were out to greet their captain. The boys on the island
vary, of course, in numbers, according as they get killed and so on; and wh=
en
they seem to be growing up, which is against the rules, Peter thins them ou=
t;
but at this time there were six of them, counting the twins as two. Let us =
pretend
to lie here among the sugar-cane and watch them as they steal by in single
file, each with his hand on his dagger.
They are forbidden by Peter to look in the lea=
st
like him, and they wear the skins of the bears slain by themselves, in which
they are so round and furry that when they fall they roll. They have theref=
ore
become very sure-footed.
The first to pass is Tootles, not the least br=
ave
but the most unfortunate of all that gallant band. He had been in fewer
adventures than any of them, because the big things constantly happened just
when he had stepped round the corner; all would be quiet, he would take the=
opportunity
of going off to gather a few sticks for firewood, and then when he returned=
the
others would be sweeping up the blood. This ill-luck had given a gentle
melancholy to his countenance, but instead of souring his nature had sweete=
ned
it, so that he was quite the humblest of the boys. Poor kind Tootles, there=
is
danger in the air for you to-night. Take care lest an adventure is now offe=
red
you, which, if accepted, will plunge you in deepest woe. Tootles, the fairy
Tink, who is bent on mischief this night is looking for a tool [for doing h=
er mischief],
and she thinks you are the most easily tricked of the boys. 'Ware Tinker Be=
ll.
Would that he could hear us, but we are not re=
ally
on the island, and he passes by, biting his knuckles.
Next comes Nibs, the gay and debonair, followe=
d by
Slightly, who cuts whistles out of the trees and dances ecstatically to his=
own
tunes. Slightly is the most conceited of the boys. He thinks he remembers t=
he days
before he was lost, with their manners and customs, and this has given his =
nose
an offensive tilt. Curly is fourth; he is a pickle, [a person who gets in
pickles-predicaments] and so often has he had to deliver up his person when
Peter said sternly, "Stand forth the one who did this thing," that
now at the command he stands forth automatically whether he has done it or =
not.
Last come the Twins, who cannot be described because we should be sure to be
describing the wrong one. Peter never quite knew what twins were, and his b=
and
were not allowed to know anything he did not know, so these two were always
vague about themselves, and did their best to give satisfaction by keeping
close together in an apologetic sort of way.
The boys vanish in the gloom, and after a paus=
e,
but not a long pause, for things go briskly on the island, come the pirates=
on
their track. We hear them before they are seen, and it is always the same
dreadful song:
"Avast belay, yo ho, heave to, A-pirating we go, And if we're parted by a shot We're sure to meet below!"
A more villainous-looking lot never hung in a =
row
on Execution dock. Here, a little in advance, ever and again with his head =
to
the ground listening, his great arms bare, pieces of eight in his ears as o=
rnaments,
is the handsome Italian Cecco, who cut his name in letters of blood on the =
back
of the governor of the prison at Gao. That gigantic black behind him has had
many names since he dropped the one with which dusky mothers still terrify
their children on the banks of the Guadjo-mo. Here is Bill Jukes, every inc=
h of
him tattooed, the same Bill Jukes who got six dozen on the WALRUS from Flint
before he would drop the bag of moidores [Portuguese gold pieces]; and Cook=
son,
said to be Black Murphy's brother (but this was never proved), and Gentlema=
n Starkey,
once an usher in a public school and still dainty in his ways of killing; a=
nd
Skylights (Morgan's Skylights); and the Irish bo'sun Smee, an oddly genial =
man
who stabbed, so to speak, without offence, and was the only Non-conformist =
in
Hook's crew; and Noodler, whose hands were fixed on backwards; and Robt.
Mullins and Alf Mason and many another ruffian long known and feared on the
Spanish Main.
In the midst of them, the blackest and largest=
in
that dark setting, reclined James Hook, or as he wrote himself, Jas. Hook, =
of
whom it is said he was the only man that the Sea-Cook feared. He lay at his
ease in a rough chariot drawn and propelled by his men, and instead of a ri=
ght hand
he had the iron hook with which ever and anon he encouraged them to increase
their pace. As dogs this terrible man treated and addressed them, and as do=
gs
they obeyed him. In person he was cadaverous [dead looking] and blackavized
[dark faced], and his hair was dressed in long curls, which at a little
distance looked like black candles, and gave a singularly threatening
expression to his handsome countenance. His eyes were of the blue of the
forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save when he was plunging his =
hook
into you, at which time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up
horribly. In manner, something of the grand seigneur still clung to him, so
that he even ripped you up with an air, and I have been told that he was a
RACONTEUR [storyteller] of repute. He was never more sinister than when he =
was
most polite, which is probably the truest test of breeding; and the eleganc=
e of
his diction, even when he was swearing, no less than the distinction of his=
demeanour,
showed him one of a different cast from his crew. A man of indomitable cour=
age,
it was said that the only thing he shied at was the sight of his own blood,
which was thick and of an unusual colour. In dress he somewhat aped the att=
ire
associated with the name of Charles II, having heard it said in some earlier
period of his career that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated
Stuarts; and in his mouth he had a holder of his own contrivance which enab=
led
him to smoke two cigars at once. But undoubtedly the grimmest part of him w=
as
his iron claw.
Let us now kill a pirate, to show Hook's metho=
d.
Skylights will do. As they pass, Skylights lurches clumsily against him,
ruffling his lace collar; the hook shoots forth, there is a tearing sound a=
nd
one screech, then the body is kicked aside, and the pirates pass on. He has=
not
even taken the cigars from his mouth.
Such is the terrible man against whom Peter Pa=
n is
pitted. Which will win?
On the trail of the pirates, stealing noiseles=
sly
down the war-path, which is not visible to inexperienced eyes, come the
redskins, every one of them with his eyes peeled. They carry tomahawks and
knives, and their naked bodies gleam with paint and oil. Strung around them=
are
scalps, of boys as well as of pirates, for these are the Piccaninny tribe, =
and
not to be confused with the softer-hearted Delawares or the Hurons. In the =
van,
on all fours, is Great Big Little Panther, a brave of so many scalps that in
his present position they somewhat impede his progress. Bringing up the rea=
r,
the place of greatest danger, comes Tiger Lily, proudly erect, a princess in
her own right. She is the most beautiful of dusky Dianas [Diana =3D goddess=
of
the woods] and the belle of the Piccaninnies, coquettish [flirting], cold a=
nd
amorous [loving] by turns; there is not a brave who would not have the wayw=
ard
thing to wife, but she staves off the altar with a hatchet. Observe how they
pass over fallen twigs without making the slightest noise. The only sound t=
o be
heard is their somewhat heavy breathing. The fact is that they are all a li=
ttle
fat just now after the heavy gorging, but in time they will work this off. =
For
the moment, however, it constitutes their chief danger.
The redskins disappear as they have come like
shadows, and soon their place is taken by the beasts, a great and motley
procession: lions, tigers, bears, and the innumerable smaller savage things
that flee from them, for every kind of beast, and, more particularly, all t=
he man-eaters,
live cheek by jowl on the favoured island. Their tongues are hanging out, t=
hey
are hungry to-night.
When they have passed, comes the last figure of
all, a gigantic crocodile. We shall see for whom she is looking presently. =
The crocodile passes, but soon the boys appear
again, for the procession must continue indefinitely until one of the parti=
es
stops or changes its pace. Then quickly they will be on top of each other. =
All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but
none suspects that the danger may be creeping up from behind. This shows how
real the island was.
The first to fall out of the moving circle was=
the
boys. They flung themselves down on the sward [turf], close to their
underground home.
"I do wish Peter would come back," e=
very
one of them said nervously, though in height and still more in breadth they
were all larger than their captain.
"I am the only one who is not afraid of t=
he
pirates," Slightly said, in the tone that prevented his being a general
favourite; but perhaps some distant sound disturbed him, for he added hasti=
ly,
"but I wish he would come back, and tell us whether he has heard anyth=
ing
more about Cinderella."
They talked of Cinderella, and Tootles was
confident that his mother must have been very like her.
It was only in Peter's absence that they could
speak of mothers, the subject being forbidden by him as silly.
"All I remember about my mother," Ni=
bs
told them, "is that she often said to my father, 'Oh, how I wish I had=
a
cheque-book of my own!' I don't know what a cheque-book is, but I should ju=
st
love to give my mother one."
While they talked they heard a distant sound. =
You
or I, not being wild things of the woods, would have heard nothing, but they
heard it, and it was the grim song:
"Yo ho, yo ho, the pirate life, The flag o' skull and bones, A merry hour, a hempen rope, And hey for Davy Jones."
At once the lost boys--but where are they? They
are no longer there. Rabbits could not have disappeared more quickly.
I will tell you where they are. With the excep=
tion
of Nibs, who has darted away to reconnoitre [look around], they are already=
in
their home under the ground, a very delightful residence of which we shall =
see a
good deal presently. But how have they reached it? for there is no entrance=
to
be seen, not so much as a large stone, which if rolled away, would disclose=
the
mouth of a cave. Look closely, however, and you may note that there are here
seven large trees, each with a hole in its hollow trunk as large as a boy.
These are the seven entrances to the home under the ground, for which Hook =
has
been searching in vain these many moons. Will he find it tonight?
As the pirates advanced, the quick eye of Star=
key
sighted Nibs disappearing through the wood, and at once his pistol flashed =
out.
But an iron claw gripped his shoulder.
"Captain, let go!" he cried, writhin=
g.
Now for the first time we hear the voice of Ho=
ok.
It was a black voice. "Put back that pistol first," it said
threateningly.
"It was one of those boys you hate. I cou=
ld
have shot him dead."
"Ay, and the sound would have brought Tig=
er
Lily's redskins upon us. Do you want to lose your scalp?"
"Shall I after him, Captain," asked
pathetic Smee, "and tickle him with Johnny Corkscrew?" Smee had
pleasant names for everything, and his cutlass was Johnny Corkscrew, becaus=
e he
wiggled it in the wound. One could mention many lovable traits in Smee. For
instance, after killing, it was his spectacles he wiped instead of his weap=
on.
"Johnny's a silent fellow," he remin=
ded
Hook.
"Not now, Smee," Hook said darkly.
"He is only one, and I want to mischief all the seven. Scatter and look
for them."
The pirates disappeared among the trees, and i=
n a
moment their Captain and Smee were alone. Hook heaved a heavy sigh, and I k=
now
not why it was, perhaps it was because of the soft beauty of the evening, b=
ut
there came over him a desire to confide to his faithful bo'sun the story of=
his
life. He spoke long and earnestly, but what it was all about Smee, who was
rather stupid, did not know in the least.
Anon [later] he caught the word Peter.
"Most of all," Hook was saying
passionately, "I want their captain, Peter Pan. 'Twas he cut off my
arm." He brandished the hook threateningly. "I've waited long to
shake his hand with this. Oh, I'll tear him!"
"And yet," said Smee, "I have o=
ften
heard you say that hook was worth a score of hands, for combing the hair and
other homely uses."
"Ay," the captain answered, "if=
I
was a mother I would pray to have my children born with this instead of
that," and he cast a look of pride upon his iron hand and one of scorn
upon the other. Then again he frowned.
"Peter flung my arm," he said, winci=
ng,
"to a crocodile that happened to be passing by."
"I have often," said Smee, "not=
iced
your strange dread of crocodiles."
"Not of crocodiles," Hook corrected =
him,
"but of that one crocodile." He lowered his voice. "It liked=
my
arm so much, Smee, that it has followed me ever since, from sea to sea and =
from
land to land, licking its lips for the rest of me."
"In a way," said Smee, "it's so=
rt
of a compliment."
"I want no such compliments," Hook
barked petulantly. "I want Peter Pan, who first gave the brute its tas=
te
for me."
He sat down on a large mushroom, and now there=
was
a quiver in his voice. "Smee," he said huskily, "that crocod=
ile
would have had me before this, but by a lucky chance it swallowed a clock w=
hich
goes tick tick inside it, and so before it can reach me I hear the tick and
bolt." He laughed, but in a hollow way.
"Some day," said Smee, "the clo=
ck
will run down, and then he'll get you."
Hook wetted his dry lips. "Ay," he s=
aid,
"that's the fear that haunts me."
Since sitting down he had felt curiously warm.
"Smee," he said, "this seat is hot." He jumped up.
"Odds bobs, hammer and tongs I'm burning."
They examined the mushroom, which was of a size
and solidity unknown on the mainland; they tried to pull it up, and it came
away at once in their hands, for it had no root. Stranger still, smoke bega=
n at
once to ascend. The pirates looked at each other. "A chimney!" th=
ey
both exclaimed.
They had indeed discovered the chimney of the =
home
under the ground. It was the custom of the boys to stop it with a mushroom =
when
enemies were in the neighbourhood.
Not only smoke came out of it. There came also children's voices, for so safe did the boys feel in their hiding-place that they were gaily chattering. The pirates listened grimly, and then replaced = the mushroom. They looked around them and noted the holes in the seven trees. <= o:p>
"Did you hear them say Peter Pan's from
home?" Smee whispered, fidgeting with Johnny Corkscrew.
Hook nodded. He stood for a long time lost in
thought, and at last a curdling smile lit up his swarthy face. Smee had been
waiting for it. "Unrip your plan, captain," he cried eagerly.
"To return to the ship," Hook replied
slowly through his teeth, "and cook a large rich cake of a jolly thick=
ness
with green sugar on it. There can be but one room below, for there is but o=
ne
chimney. The silly moles had not the sense to see that they did not need a =
door
apiece. That shows they have no mother. We will leave the cake on the shore=
of
the Mermaids' Lagoon. These boys are always swimming about there, playing w=
ith
the mermaids. They will find the cake and they will gobble it up, because,
having no mother, they don't know how dangerous 'tis to eat rich damp
cake." He burst into laughter, not hollow laughter now, but honest
laughter. "Aha, they will die."
Smee had listened with growing admiration.
"It's the wickedest, prettiest policy eve=
r I
heard of!" he cried, and in their exultation they danced and sang:
"Avast, belay, when I appear, By fear they're overtook; Nought's left upon your bones when y= ou Have shaken claws with Hook." <= o:p>
They began the verse, but they never finished =
it,
for another sound broke in and stilled them. There was at first such a tiny
sound that a leaf might have fallen on it and smothered it, but as it came
nearer it was more distinct.
Tick tick tick tick!
Hook stood shuddering, one foot in the air.
"The crocodile!" he gasped, and boun=
ded
away, followed by his bo'sun.
It was indeed the crocodile. It had passed the
redskins, who were now on the trail of the other pirates. It oozed on after=
Hook.
Once more the boys emerged into the open; but =
the
dangers of the night were not yet over, for presently Nibs rushed breathless
into their midst, pursued by a pack of wolves. The tongues of the pursuers =
were
hanging out; the baying of them was horrible.
"Save me, save me!" cried Nibs, fall=
ing
on the ground.
"But what can we do, what can we do?"=
;
It was a high compliment to Peter that at that
dire moment their thoughts turned to him.
"What would Peter do?" they cried
simultaneously.
Almost in the same breath they cried, "Pe=
ter
would look at them through his legs."
And then, "Let us do what Peter would
do."
It is quite the most successful way of defying
wolves, and as one boy they bent and looked through their legs. The next mo=
ment
is the long one, but victory came quickly, for as the boys advanced upon th=
em
in the terrible attitude, the wolves dropped their tails and fled.
Now Nibs rose from the ground, and the others
thought that his staring eyes still saw the wolves. But it was not wolves he
saw.
"I have seen a wonderfuller thing," =
he
cried, as they gathered round him eagerly. "A great white bird. It is
flying this way."
"What kind of a bird, do you think?"=
"I don't know," Nibs said, awestruck,
"but it looks so weary, and as it flies it moans, 'Poor Wendy,'" =
"Poor Wendy?"
"I remember," said Slightly instantl=
y,
"there are birds called Wendies."
"See, it comes!" cried Curly, pointi=
ng
to Wendy in the heavens.
Wendy was now almost overhead, and they could = hear her plaintive cry. But more distinct came the shrill voice of Tinker Bell. = The jealous fairy had now cast off all disguise of friendship, and was darting = at her victim from every direction, pinching savagely each time she touched. <= o:p>
"Hullo, Tink," cried the wondering b=
oys.
Tink's reply rang out: "Peter wants you to
shoot the Wendy."
It was not in their nature to question when Pe=
ter
ordered. "Let us do what Peter wishes!" cried the simple boys.
"Quick, bows and arrows!"
All but Tootles popped down their trees. He ha=
d a
bow and arrow with him, and Tink noted it, and rubbed her little hands.
"Quick, Tootles, quick," she screame=
d.
"Peter will be so pleased."
Tootles excitedly fitted the arrow to his bow.
"Out of the way, Tink," he shouted, and then he fired, and Wendy
fluttered to the ground with an arrow in her breast.
Foolish Tootles was standing like a conqueror =
over
Wendy's body when the other boys sprang, armed, from their trees.
"You are too late," he cried proudly,
"I have shot the Wendy. Peter will be so pleased with me."
Overhead Tinker Bell shouted "Silly
ass!" and darted into hiding. The others did not hear her. They had
crowded round Wendy, and as they looked a terrible silence fell upon the wo=
od.
If Wendy's heart had been beating they would all have heard it.
Slightly was the first to speak. "This is=
no
bird," he said in a scared voice. "I think this must be a lady.&q=
uot;
"A lady?" said Tootles, and fell
a-trembling.
"And we have killed her," Nibs said
hoarsely.
They all whipped off their caps.
"Now I see," Curly said: "Peter=
was
bringing her to us." He threw himself sorrowfully on the ground.
"A lady to take care of us at last,"
said one of the twins, "and you have killed her!"
They were sorry for him, but sorrier for
themselves, and when he took a step nearer them they turned from him.
Tootles' face was very white, but there was a
dignity about him now that had never been there before.
"I did it," he said, reflecting.
"When ladies used to come to me in dreams, I said, 'Pretty mother, pre=
tty
mother.' But when at last she really came, I shot her."
He moved slowly away.
"Don't go," they called in pity.
"I must," he answered, shaking; &quo=
t;I
am so afraid of Peter."
It was at this tragic moment that they heard a
sound which made the heart of every one of them rise to his mouth. They hea=
rd
Peter crow.
"Peter!" they cried, for it was alwa=
ys
thus that he signalled his return.
"Hide her," they whispered, and gath=
ered
hastily around Wendy. But Tootles stood aloof.
Again came that ringing crow, and Peter droppe=
d in
front of them. "Greetings, boys," he cried, and mechanically they
saluted, and then again was silence.
He frowned.
"I am back," he said hotly, "wh=
y do
you not cheer?"
They opened their mouths, but the cheers would=
not
come. He overlooked it in his haste to tell the glorious tidings.
"Great news, boys," he cried, "I
have brought at last a mother for you all."
Still no sound, except a little thud from Toot=
les
as he dropped on his knees.
"Have you not seen her?" asked Peter,
becoming troubled. "She flew this way."
"Ah me!" once voice said, and another
said, "Oh, mournful day."
Tootles rose. "Peter," he said quiet=
ly,
"I will show her to you," and when the others would still have hi=
dden
her he said, "Back, twins, let Peter see."
So they all stood back, and let him see, and a=
fter
he had looked for a little time he did not know what to do next.
"She is dead," he said uncomfortably.
"Perhaps she is frightened at being dead."
He thought of hopping off in a comic sort of w=
ay
till he was out of sight of her, and then never going near the spot any mor=
e.
They would all have been glad to follow if he had done this.
But there was the arrow. He took it from her h=
eart
and faced his band.
"Whose arrow?" he demanded sternly. =
"Mine, Peter," said Tootles on his
knees.
"Oh, dastard hand," Peter said, and =
he
raised the arrow to use it as a dagger.
Tootles did not flinch. He bared his breast.
"Strike, Peter," he said firmly, "strike true."
Twice did Peter raise the arrow, and twice did=
his
hand fall. "I cannot strike," he said with awe, "there is
something stays my hand."
All looked at him in wonder, save Nibs, who
fortunately looked at Wendy.
"It is she," he cried, "the Wen=
dy
lady, see, her arm!"
Wonderful to relate [tell], Wendy had raised h=
er
arm. Nibs bent over her and listened reverently. "I think she said, 'P=
oor
Tootles,'" he whispered.
"She lives," Peter said briefly.
Slightly cried instantly, "The Wendy lady
lives."
Then Peter knelt beside her and found his butt=
on.
You remember she had put it on a chain that she wore round her neck.
"See," he said, "the arrow stru=
ck
against this. It is the kiss I gave her. It has saved her life."
"I remember kisses," Slightly interp=
osed
quickly, "let me see it. Ay, that's a kiss."
Peter did not hear him. He was begging Wendy to
get better quickly, so that he could show her the mermaids. Of course she c=
ould
not answer yet, being still in a frightful faint; but from overhead came a
wailing note.
"Listen to Tink," said Curly, "=
she
is crying because the Wendy lives."
Then they had to tell Peter of Tink's crime, a=
nd
almost never had they seen him look so stern.
"Listen, Tinker Bell," he cried, &qu=
ot;I
am your friend no more. Begone from me for ever."
She flew on to his shoulder and pleaded, but he
brushed her off. Not until Wendy again raised her arm did he relent
sufficiently to say, "Well, not for ever, but for a whole week." =
Do you think Tinker Bell was grateful to Wendy=
for
raising her arm? Oh dear no, never wanted to pinch her so much. Fairies ind=
eed
are strange, and Peter, who understood them best, often cuffed [slapped] th=
em.
But what to do with Wendy in her present delic=
ate
state of health?
"Let us carry her down into the house,&qu=
ot;
Curly suggested.
"Ay," said Slightly, "that is w=
hat
one does with ladies."
"No, no," Peter said, "you must=
not
touch her. It would not be sufficiently respectful."
"That," said Slightly, "is what=
I
was thinking."
"But if she lies there," Tootles sai=
d,
"she will die."
"Ay, she will die," Slightly admitte=
d,
"but there is no way out."
"Yes, there is," cried Peter. "=
Let
us build a little house round her."
They were all delighted. "Quick," he
ordered them, "bring me each of you the best of what we have. Gut our
house. Be sharp."
In a moment they were as busy as tailors the n=
ight
before a wedding. They skurried this way and that, down for bedding, up for
firewood, and while they were at it, who should appear but John and Michael=
. As
they dragged along the ground they fell asleep standing, stopped, woke up, =
moved
another step and slept again.
"John, John," Michael would cry,
"wake up! Where is Nana, John, and mother?"
And then John would rub his eyes and mutter,
"It is true, we did fly."
You may be sure they were very relieved to find
Peter.
"Hullo, Peter," they said.
"Hullo," replied Peter amicably, tho=
ugh
he had quite forgotten them. He was very busy at the moment measuring Wendy
with his feet to see how large a house she would need. Of course he meant to
leave room for chairs and a table. John and Michael watched him.
"Is Wendy asleep?" they asked.
"Yes."
"John," Michael proposed, "let =
us
wake her and get her to make supper for us," but as he said it some of=
the
other boys rushed on carrying branches for the building of the house.
"Look at them!" he cried.
"Curly," said Peter in his most capt= ainy voice, "see that these boys help in the building of the house." <= o:p>
"Ay, ay, sir."
"Build a house?" exclaimed John.
"For the Wendy," said Curly.
"For Wendy?" John said, aghast.
"Why, she is only a girl!"
"That," explained Curly, "is wh=
y we
are her servants."
"You? Wendy's servants!"
"Yes," said Peter, "and you als=
o.
Away with them."
The astounded brothers were dragged away to ha=
ck
and hew and carry. "Chairs and a fender [fireplace] first," Peter
ordered. "Then we shall build a house round them."
"Ay," said Slightly, "that is h=
ow a
house is built; it all comes back to me."
Peter thought of everything. "Slightly,&q=
uot;
he cried, "fetch a doctor."
"Ay, ay," said Slightly at once, and
disappeared, scratching his head. But he knew Peter must be obeyed, and he
returned in a moment, wearing John's hat and looking solemn.
"Please, sir," said Peter, going to =
him,
"are you a doctor?"
The difference between him and the other boys =
at
such a time was that they knew it was make-believe, while to him make-belie=
ve
and true were exactly the same thing. This sometimes troubled them, as when
they had to make-believe that they had had their dinners.
If they broke down in their make-believe he ra=
pped
them on the knuckles.
"Yes, my little man," Slightly anxio=
usly
replied, who had chapped knuckles.
"Please, sir," Peter explained, &quo=
t;a
lady lies very ill."
She was lying at their feet, but Slightly had =
the
sense not to see her.
"Tut, tut, tut," he said, "where
does she lie?"
"In yonder glade."
"I will put a glass thing in her mouth,&q=
uot;
said Slightly, and he made-believe to do it, while Peter waited. It was an
anxious moment when the glass thing was withdrawn.
"How is she?" inquired Peter.
"Tut, tut, tut," said Slightly,
"this has cured her."
"I am glad!" Peter cried.
"I will call again in the evening,"
Slightly said; "give her beef tea out of a cup with a spout to it;&quo=
t;
but after he had returned the hat to John he blew big breaths, which was his
habit on escaping from a difficulty.
In the meantime the wood had been alive with t=
he
sound of axes; almost everything needed for a cosy dwelling already lay at
Wendy's feet.
"If only we knew," said one, "t=
he
kind of house she likes best."
"Peter," shouted another, "she =
is
moving in her sleep."
"Her mouth opens," cried a third,
looking respectfully into it. "Oh, lovely!"
"Perhaps she is going to sing in her
sleep," said Peter. "Wendy, sing the kind of house you would like=
to
have."
Immediately, without opening her eyes, Wendy b=
egan
to sing:
&=
quot;I
wish I had a pretty house, The
littlest ever seen, With funny
little red walls And roof of m=
ossy
green."
They gurgled with joy at this, for by the grea=
test
good luck the branches they had brought were sticky with red sap, and all t=
he
ground was carpeted with moss. As they rattled up the little house they bro=
ke into
song themselves:
"We've built the little walls and roof And made a lovely door, So tell us, mother Wendy, What are you wanting more?"
To this she answered greedily:
With a blow of their fists they made windows, =
and
large yellow leaves were the blinds. But roses--?
"Roses," cried Peter sternly.
Quickly they made-believe to grow the loveliest
roses up the walls.
Babies?
To prevent Peter ordering babies they hurried =
into
song again:
"We've made the roses peeping out, The babes are at the door, We cannot make ourselves, you know, = 'cos we've been made before." <= o:p>
Peter, seeing this to be a good idea, at once
pretended that it was his own. The house was quite beautiful, and no doubt
Wendy was very cosy within, though, of course, they could no longer see her.
Peter strode up and down, ordering finishing touches. Nothing escaped his e=
agle
eyes. Just when it seemed absolutely finished:
"There's no knocker on the door," he
said.
They were very ashamed, but Tootles gave the s=
ole
of his shoe, and it made an excellent knocker.
Absolutely finished now, they thought.
Not of bit of it. "There's no chimney,&qu=
ot;
Peter said; "we must have a chimney."
"It certainly does need a chimney," =
said
John importantly. This gave Peter an idea. He snatched the hat off John's h=
ead,
knocked out the bottom [top], and put the hat on the roof. The little house=
was
so pleased to have such a capital chimney that, as if to say thank you, smo=
ke
immediately began to come out of the hat.
Now really and truly it was finished. Nothing
remained to do but to knock.
"All look your best," Peter warned t=
hem;
"first impressions are awfully important."
He was glad no one asked him what first
impressions are; they were all too busy looking their best.
He knocked politely, and now the wood was as s=
till
as the children, not a sound to be heard except from Tinker Bell, who was
watching from a branch and openly sneering.
What the boys were wondering was, would any one
answer the knock? If a lady, what would she be like?
The door opened and a lady came out. It was We=
ndy.
They all whipped off their hats.
She looked properly surprised, and this was ju=
st
how they had hoped she would look.
"Where am I?" she said.
Of course Slightly was the first to get his wo=
rd
in. "Wendy lady," he said rapidly, "for you we built this ho=
use."
"Oh, say you're pleased," cried Nibs=
.
"Lovely, darling house," Wendy said,=
and
they were the very words they had hoped she would say.
"And we are your children," cried the
twins.
Then all went on their knees, and holding out
their arms cried, "O Wendy lady, be our mother."
"Ought I?" Wendy said, all shining.
"Of course it's frightfully fascinating, but you see I am only a little
girl. I have no real experience."
"That doesn't matter," said Peter, a=
s if
he were the only person present who knew all about it, though he was really=
the
one who knew least. "What we need is just a nice motherly person."=
;
"Oh dear!" Wendy said, "you see=
, I
feel that is exactly what I am."
"It is, it is," they all cried; &quo=
t;we
saw it at once."
"Very well," she said, "I will =
do
my best. Come inside at once, you naughty children; I am sure your feet are
damp. And before I put you to bed I have just time to finish the story of
Cinderella."
In they went; I don't know how there was room =
for
them, but you can squeeze very tight in the Neverland. And that was the fir=
st
of the many joyous evenings they had with Wendy. By and by she tucked them =
up
in the great bed in the home under the trees, but she herself slept that ni=
ght in
the little house, and Peter kept watch outside with drawn sword, for the
pirates could be heard carousing far away and the wolves were on the prowl.=
The
little house looked so cosy and safe in the darkness, with a bright light
showing through its blinds, and the chimney smoking beautifully, and Peter
standing on guard. After a time he fell asleep, and some unsteady fairies h=
ad
to climb over him on their way home from an orgy. Any of the other boys
obstructing the fairy path at night they would have mischiefed, but they ju=
st
tweaked Peter's nose and passed on.
One of the first things Peter did next day was=
to
measure Wendy and John and Michael for hollow trees. Hook, you remember, had
sneered at the boys for thinking they needed a tree apiece, but this was
ignorance, for unless your tree fitted you it was difficult to go up and do=
wn,
and no two of the boys were quite the same size. Once you fitted, you drew =
in [let
out] your breath at the top, and down you went at exactly the right speed,
while to ascend you drew in and let out alternately, and so wriggled up. Of
course, when you have mastered the action you are able to do these things
without thinking of them, and nothing can be more graceful.
But you simply must fit, and Peter measures you
for your tree as carefully as for a suit of clothes: the only difference be=
ing
that the clothes are made to fit you, while you have to be made to fit the
tree. Usually it is done quite easily, as by your wearing too many garments=
or
too few, but if you are bumpy in awkward places or the only available tree =
is
an odd shape, Peter does some things to you, and after that you fit. Once y=
ou
fit, great care must be taken to go on fitting, and this, as Wendy was to
discover to her delight, keeps a whole family in perfect condition.
Wendy and Michael fitted their trees at the fi=
rst
try, but John had to be altered a little.
After a few days' practice they could go up and
down as gaily as buckets in a well. And how ardently they grew to love their
home under the ground; especially Wendy. It consisted of one large room, as=
all
houses should do, with a floor in which you could dig [for worms] if you wa=
nted
to go fishing, and in this floor grew stout mushrooms of a charming colour,
which were used as stools. A Never tree tried hard to grow in the centre of=
the
room, but every morning they sawed the trunk through, level with the floor.=
By
tea-time it was always about two feet high, and then they put a door on top=
of
it, the whole thus becoming a table; as soon as they cleared away, they saw=
ed
off the trunk again, and thus there was more room to play. There was an
enormous fireplace which was in almost any part of the room where you cared=
to
light it, and across this Wendy stretched strings, made of fibre, from which
she suspended her washing. The bed was tilted against the wall by day, and =
let
down at 6:30, when it filled nearly half the room; and all the boys slept in
it, except Michael, lying like sardines in a tin. There was a strict rule a=
gainst
turning round until one gave the signal, when all turned at once. Michael
should have used it also, but Wendy would have [desired] a baby, and he was=
the
littlest, and you know what women are, and the short and long of it is that=
he
was hung up in a basket.
It was rough and simple, and not unlike what b=
aby
bears would have made of an underground house in the same circumstances. But
there was one recess in the wall, no larger than a bird-cage, which was the
private apartment of Tinker Bell. It could be shut off from the rest of the
house by a tiny curtain, which Tink, who was most fastidious [particular],
always kept drawn when dressing or undressing. No woman, however large, cou=
ld
have had a more exquisite boudoir [dressing room] and bed-chamber combined.=
The
couch, as she always called it, was a genuine Queen Mab, with club legs; and
she varied the bedspreads according to what fruit-blossom was in season. Her
mirror was a Puss-in-Boots, of which there are now only three, unchipped, k=
nown
to fairy dealers; the washstand was Pie-crust and reversible, the chest of
drawers an authentic Charming the Sixth, and the carpet and rugs the best (=
the
early) period of Margery and Robin. There was a chandelier from Tiddlywinks=
for
the look of the thing, but of course she lit the residence herself. Tink was
very contemptuous of the rest of the house, as indeed was perhaps inevitabl=
e,
and her chamber, though beautiful, looked rather conceited, having the
appearance of a nose permanently turned up.
I suppose it was all especially entrancing to
Wendy, because those rampagious boys of hers gave her so much to do. Really
there were whole weeks when, except perhaps with a stocking in the evening,=
she
was never above ground. The cooking, I can tell you, kept her nose to the p=
ot,
and even if there was nothing in it, even if there was no pot, she had to k=
eep
watching that it came aboil just the same. You never exactly knew whether t=
here
would be a real meal or just a make-believe, it all depended upon Peter's w=
him:
he could eat, really eat, if it was part of a game, but he could not stodge
[cram down the food] just to feel stodgy [stuffed with food], which is what
most children like better than anything else; the next best thing being to =
talk
about it. Make-believe was so real to him that during a meal of it you could
see him getting rounder. Of course it was trying, but you simply had to fol=
low
his lead, and if you could prove to him that you were getting loose for your
tree he let you stodge.
Wendy's favourite time for sewing and darning =
was
after they had all gone to bed. Then, as she expressed it, she had a breath=
ing
time for herself; and she occupied it in making new things for them, and
putting double pieces on the knees, for they were all most frightfully hard=
on their
knees.
When she sat down to a basketful of their
stockings, every heel with a hole in it, she would fling up her arms and
exclaim, "Oh dear, I am sure I sometimes think spinsters are to be
envied!"
Her face beamed when she exclaimed this.
You remember about her pet wolf. Well, it very
soon discovered that she had come to the island and it found her out, and t=
hey
just ran into each other's arms. After that it followed her about everywher=
e.
As time wore on did she think much about the
beloved parents she had left behind her? This is a difficult question, beca=
use
it is quite impossible to say how time does wear on in the Neverland, where=
it
is calculated by moons and suns, and there are ever so many more of them th=
an
on the mainland. But I am afraid that Wendy did not really worry about her
father and mother; she was absolutely confident that they would always keep=
the
window open for her to fly back by, and this gave her complete ease of mind.
What did disturb her at times was that John remembered his parents vaguely
only, as people he had once known, while Michael was quite willing to belie=
ve
that she was really his mother. These things scared her a little, and nobly
anxious to do her duty, she tried to fix the old life in their minds by set=
ting
them examination papers on it, as like as possible to the ones she used to =
do
at school. The other boys thought this awfully interesting, and insisted on=
joining,
and they made slates for themselves, and sat round the table, writing and
thinking hard about the questions she had written on another slate and pass=
ed
round. They were the most ordinary questions--"What was the colour of
Mother's eyes? Which was taller, Father or Mother? Was Mother blonde or
brunette? Answer all three questions if possible." "(A) Write an
essay of not less than 40 words on How I spent my last Holidays, or The
Characters of Father and Mother compared. Only one of these to be
attempted." Or "(1) Describe Mother's laugh; (2) Describe Father's
laugh; (3) Describe Mother's Party Dress; (4) Describe the Kennel and its
Inmate."
They were just everyday questions like these, =
and
when you could not answer them you were told to make a cross; and it was re=
ally
dreadful what a number of crosses even John made. Of course the only boy wh=
o replied
to every question was Slightly, and no one could have been more hopeful of
coming out first, but his answers were perfectly ridiculous, and he really =
came
out last: a melancholy thing.
Peter did not compete. For one thing he despis=
ed
all mothers except Wendy, and for another he was the only boy on the island=
who
could neither write nor spell; not the smallest word. He was above all that=
sort
of thing.
By the way, the questions were all written in =
the
past tense. What was the colour of Mother's eyes, and so on. Wendy, you see,
had been forgetting, too.
Adventures, of course, as we shall see, were of
daily occurrence; but about this time Peter invented, with Wendy's help, a =
new
game that fascinated him enormously, until he suddenly had no more interest=
in
it, which, as you have been told, was what always happened with his games. =
It
consisted in pretending not to have adventures, in doing the sort of thing =
John
and Michael had been doing all their lives, sitting on stools flinging ball=
s in
the air, pushing each other, going out for walks and coming back without ha=
ving
killed so much as a grizzly. To see Peter doing nothing on a stool was a gr=
eat
sight; he could not help looking solemn at such times, to sit still seemed =
to
him such a comic thing to do. He boasted that he had gone walking for the g=
ood
of his health. For several suns these were the most novel of all adventures=
to
him; and John and Michael had to pretend to be delighted also; otherwise he
would have treated them severely.
He often went out alone, and when he came back=
you
were never absolutely certain whether he had had an adventure or not. He mi=
ght
have forgotten it so completely that he said nothing about it; and then when
you went out you found the body; and, on the other hand, he might say a gre=
at deal
about it, and yet you could not find the body. Sometimes he came home with =
his
head bandaged, and then Wendy cooed over him and bathed it in lukewarm wate=
r,
while he told a dazzling tale. But she was never quite sure, you know. There
were, however, many adventures which she knew to be true because she was in
them herself, and there were still more that were at least partly true, for=
the
other boys were in them and said they were wholly true. To describe them all
would require a book as large as an English-Latin, Latin-English Dictionary,
and the most we can do is to give one as a specimen of an average hour on t=
he
island. The difficulty is which one to choose. Should we take the brush with
the redskins at Slightly Gulch? It was a sanguinary [cheerful] affair, and =
especially
interesting as showing one of Peter's peculiarities, which was that in the
middle of a fight he would suddenly change sides. At the Gulch, when victory
was still in the balance, sometimes leaning this way and sometimes that, he
called out, "I'm redskin to-day; what are you, Tootles?" And Toot=
les
answered, "Redskin; what are you, Nibs?" and Nibs said,
"Redskin; what are you Twin?" and so on; and they were all redski=
ns;
and of course this would have ended the fight had not the real redskins
fascinated by Peter's methods, agreed to be lost boys for that once, and so=
at
it they all went again, more fiercely than ever.
The extraordinary upshot of this adventure
was--but we have not decided yet that this is the adventure we are to narra=
te.
Perhaps a better one would be the night attack by the redskins on the house
under the ground, when several of them stuck in the hollow trees and had to=
be
pulled out like corks. Or we might tell how Peter saved Tiger Lily's life in
the Mermaids' Lagoon, and so made her his ally.
Or we could tell of that cake the pirates cook=
ed
so that the boys might eat it and perish; and how they placed it in one cun=
ning
spot after another; but always Wendy snatched it from the hands of her
children, so that in time it lost its succulence, and became as hard as a
stone, and was used as a missile, and Hook fell over it in the dark.
Or suppose we tell of the birds that were Pete=
r's
friends, particularly of the Never bird that built in a tree overhanging the
lagoon, and how the nest fell into the water, and still the bird sat on her
eggs, and Peter gave orders that she was not to be disturbed. That is a pre=
tty story,
and the end shows how grateful a bird can be; but if we tell it we must also
tell the whole adventure of the lagoon, which would of course be telling two
adventures rather than just one. A shorter adventure, and quite as exciting,
was Tinker Bell's attempt, with the help of some street fairies, to have the
sleeping Wendy conveyed on a great floating leaf to the mainland. Fortunate=
ly
the leaf gave way and Wendy woke, thinking it was bath-time, and swam back.=
Or
again, we might choose Peter's defiance of the lions, when he drew a circle
round him on the ground with an arrow and dared them to cross it; and thoug=
h he
waited for hours, with the other boys and Wendy looking on breathlessly from
trees, not one of them dared to accept his challenge.
Which of these adventures shall we choose? The
best way will be to toss for it.
I have tossed, and the lagoon has won. This al=
most
makes one wish that the gulch or the cake or Tink's leaf had won. Of course=
I
could do it again, and make it best out of three; however, perhaps fairest =
to
stick to the lagoon.
If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you=
may
see at times a shapeless pool of lovely pale colours suspended in the darkn=
ess;
then if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape, and t=
he colours
become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go on fire. But just be=
fore
they go on fire you see the lagoon. This is the nearest you ever get to it =
on
the mainland, just one heavenly moment; if there could be two moments you m=
ight
see the surf and hear the mermaids singing.
The children often spent long summer days on t=
his
lagoon, swimming or floating most of the time, playing the mermaid games in=
the
water, and so forth. You must not think from this that the mermaids were on=
friendly
terms with them: on the contrary, it was among Wendy's lasting regrets that=
all
the time she was on the island she never had a civil word from one of them.=
When
she stole softly to the edge of the lagoon she might see them by the score,
especially on Marooners' Rock, where they loved to bask, combing out their =
hair
in a lazy way that quite irritated her; or she might even swim, on tiptoe a=
s it
were, to within a yard of them, but then they saw her and dived, probably
splashing her with their tails, not by accident, but intentionally.
They treated all the boys in the same way, exc=
ept
of course Peter, who chatted with them on Marooners' Rock by the hour, and =
sat
on their tails when they got cheeky. He gave Wendy one of their combs.
The most haunting time at which to see them is=
at
the turn of the moon, when they utter strange wailing cries; but the lagoon=
is
dangerous for mortals then, and until the evening of which we have now to t=
ell,
Wendy had never seen the lagoon by moonlight, less from fear, for of course=
Peter
would have accompanied her, than because she had strict rules about every o=
ne
being in bed by seven. She was often at the lagoon, however, on sunny days
after rain, when the mermaids come up in extraordinary numbers to play with
their bubbles. The bubbles of many colours made in rainbow water they treat=
as
balls, hitting them gaily from one to another with their tails, and trying =
to
keep them in the rainbow till they burst. The goals are at each end of the
rainbow, and the keepers only are allowed to use their hands. Sometimes a d=
ozen
of these games will be going on in the lagoon at a time, and it is quite a =
pretty
sight.
But the moment the children tried to join in t=
hey
had to play by themselves, for the mermaids immediately disappeared.
Nevertheless we have proof that they secretly watched the interlopers, and =
were
not above taking an idea from them; for John introduced a new way of hittin=
g the
bubble, with the head instead of the hand, and the mermaids adopted it. Thi=
s is
the one mark that John has left on the Neverland.
It must also have been rather pretty to see the
children resting on a rock for half an hour after their mid-day meal. Wendy
insisted on their doing this, and it had to be a real rest even though the =
meal
was make-believe. So they lay there in the sun, and their bodies glistened =
in
it, while she sat beside them and looked important.
It was one such day, and they were all on
Marooners' Rock. The rock was not much larger than their great bed, but of
course they all knew how not to take up much room, and they were dozing, or=
at
least lying with their eyes shut, and pinching occasionally when they thoug=
ht
Wendy was not looking. She was very busy, stitching.
While she stitched a change came to the lagoon.
Little shivers ran over it, and the sun went away and shadows stole across =
the
water, turning it cold. Wendy could no longer see to thread her needle, and
when she looked up, the lagoon that had always hitherto been such a laughin=
g place
seemed formidable and unfriendly.
It was not, she knew, that night had come, but
something as dark as night had come. No, worse than that. It had not come, =
but
it had sent that shiver through the sea to say that it was coming. What was=
it?
There crowded upon her all the stories she had
been told of Marooners' Rock, so called because evil captains put sailors o=
n it
and leave them there to drown. They drown when the tide rises, for then it =
is submerged.
Of course she should have roused the children =
at
once; not merely because of the unknown that was stalking toward them, but
because it was no longer good for them to sleep on a rock grown chilly. But=
she
was a young mother and she did not know this; she thought you simply must s=
tick
to your rule about half an hour after the mid-day meal. So, though fear was
upon her, and she longed to hear male voices, she would not waken them. Even
when she heard the sound of muffled oars, though her heart was in her mouth,
she did not waken them. She stood over them to let them have their sleep ou=
t.
Was it not brave of Wendy?
It was well for those boys then that there was=
one
among them who could sniff danger even in his sleep. Peter sprang erect, as
wide awake at once as a dog, and with one warning cry he roused the others.=
He stood motionless, one hand to his ear.
"Pirates!" he cried. The others came
closer to him. A strange smile was playing about his face, and Wendy saw it=
and
shuddered. While that smile was on his face no one dared address him; all t=
hey
could do was to stand ready to obey. The order came sharp and incisive.
"Dive!"
There was a gleam of legs, and instantly the
lagoon seemed deserted. Marooners' Rock stood alone in the forbidding water=
s as
if it were itself marooned.
The boat drew nearer. It was the pirate dinghy,
with three figures in her, Smee and Starkey, and the third a captive, no ot=
her
than Tiger Lily. Her hands and ankles were tied, and she knew what was to be
her fate. She was to be left on the rock to perish, an end to one of her ra=
ce
more terrible than death by fire or torture, for is it not written in the b=
ook
of the tribe that there is no path through water to the happy hunting-groun=
d?
Yet her face was impassive; she was the daughter of a chief, she must die a=
s a
chief's daughter, it is enough.
They had caught her boarding the pirate ship w=
ith
a knife in her mouth. No watch was kept on the ship, it being Hook's boast =
that
the wind of his name guarded the ship for a mile around. Now her fate would
help to guard it also. One more wail would go the round in that wind by nig=
ht.
In the gloom that they brought with them the t=
wo
pirates did not see the rock till they crashed into it.
"Luff, you lubber," cried an Irish v=
oice
that was Smee's; "here's the rock. Now, then, what we have to do is to
hoist the redskin on to it and leave her here to drown."
It was the work of one brutal moment to land t= he beautiful girl on the rock; she was too proud to offer a vain resistance. <= o:p>
Quite near the rock, but out of sight, two hea=
ds
were bobbing up and down, Peter's and Wendy's. Wendy was crying, for it was=
the
first tragedy she had seen. Peter had seen many tragedies, but he had forgo=
tten
them all. He was less sorry than Wendy for Tiger Lily: it was two against o=
ne
that angered him, and he meant to save her. An easy way would have been to =
wait
until the pirates had gone, but he was never one to choose the easy way.
There was almost nothing he could not do, and =
he
now imitated the voice of Hook.
"Ahoy there, you lubbers!" he called=
. It
was a marvellous imitation.
"The captain!" said the pirates, sta=
ring
at each other in surprise.
"He must be swimming out to us," Sta=
rkey
said, when they had looked for him in vain.
"We are putting the redskin on the
rock," Smee called out.
"Set her free," came the astonishing
answer.
"Free!"
"Yes, cut her bonds and let her go."=
"But, captain--"
"At once, d'ye hear," cried Peter,
"or I'll plunge my hook in you."
"This is queer!" Smee gasped.
"Better do what the captain orders,"
said Starkey nervously.
"Ay, ay." Smee said, and he cut Tiger
Lily's cords. At once like an eel she slid between Starkey's legs into the
water.
Of course Wendy was very elated over Peter's
cleverness; but she knew that he would be elated also and very likely crow =
and
thus betray himself, so at once her hand went out to cover his mouth. But it
was stayed even in the act, for "Boat ahoy!" rang over the lagoon=
in
Hook's voice, and this time it was not Peter who had spoken.
Peter may have been about to crow, but his face
puckered in a whistle of surprise instead.
"Boat ahoy!" again came the voice. <= o:p>
Now Wendy understood. The real Hook was also in
the water.
He was swimming to the boat, and as his men sh=
owed
a light to guide him he had soon reached them. In the light of the lantern
Wendy saw his hook grip the boat's side; she saw his evil swarthy face as he
rose dripping from the water, and, quaking, she would have liked to swim aw=
ay,
but Peter would not budge. He was tingling with life and also top-heavy wit=
h conceit.
"Am I not a wonder, oh, I am a wonder!" he whispered to her, and
though she thought so also, she was really glad for the sake of his reputat=
ion
that no one heard him except herself.
He signed to her to listen.
The two pirates were very curious to know what=
had
brought their captain to them, but he sat with his head on his hook in a
position of profound melancholy.
"Captain, is all well?" they asked
timidly, but he answered with a hollow moan.
"He sighs," said Smee.
"He sighs again," said Starkey.
"And yet a third time he sighs," said
Smee.
Then at last he spoke passionately.
"The game's up," he cried, "tho=
se
boys have found a mother."
Affrighted though she was, Wendy swelled with
pride.
"O evil day!" cried Starkey.
"What's a mother?" asked the ignorant
Smee.
Wendy was so shocked that she exclaimed. "=
;He
doesn't know!" and always after this she felt that if you could have a=
pet
pirate Smee would be her one.
Peter pulled her beneath the water, for Hook h=
ad
started up, crying, "What was that?"
"I heard nothing," said Starkey, rai=
sing
the lantern over the waters, and as the pirates looked they saw a strange
sight. It was the nest I have told you of, floating on the lagoon, and the
Never bird was sitting on it.
"See," said Hook in answer to Smee's
question, "that is a mother. What a lesson! The nest must have fallen =
into
the water, but would the mother desert her eggs? No."
There was a break in his voice, as if for a mo=
ment
he recalled innocent days when--but he brushed away this weakness with his
hook.
Smee, much impressed, gazed at the bird as the
nest was borne past, but the more suspicious Starkey said, "If she is a
mother, perhaps she is hanging about here to help Peter."
Hook winced. "Ay," he said, "th=
at
is the fear that haunts me."
He was roused from this dejection by Smee's ea=
ger
voice.
"Captain," said Smee, "could we=
not
kidnap these boys' mother and make her our mother?"
"It is a princely scheme," cried Hoo=
k,
and at once it took practical shape in his great brain. "We will seize=
the
children and carry them to the boat: the boys we will make walk the plank, =
and
Wendy shall be our mother."
Again Wendy forgot herself.
"Never!" she cried, and bobbed.
"What was that?"
But they could see nothing. They thought it mu=
st
have been a leaf in the wind. "Do you agree, my bullies?" asked H=
ook.
"There is my hand on it," they both
said.
"And there is my hook. Swear."
They all swore. By this time they were on the
rock, and suddenly Hook remembered Tiger Lily.
"Where is the redskin?" he demanded
abruptly.
He had a playful humour at moments, and they
thought this was one of the moments.
"That is all right, captain," Smee
answered complacently; "we let her go."
"Let her go!" cried Hook.
"'Twas your own orders," the bo'sun
faltered.
"You called over the water to us to let h=
er
go," said Starkey.
"Brimstone and gall," thundered Hook,
"what cozening [cheating] is going on here!" His face had gone bl=
ack
with rage, but he saw that they believed their words, and he was startled.
"Lads," he said, shaking a little, "I gave no such order.&qu=
ot;
"It is passing queer," Smee said, and
they all fidgeted uncomfortably. Hook raised his voice, but there was a qui=
ver
in it.
"Spirit that haunts this dark lagoon
to-night," he cried, "dost hear me?"
Of course Peter should have kept quiet, but of
course he did not. He immediately answered in Hook's voice:
"Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs, I hear
you."
In that supreme moment Hook did not blanch, ev=
en
at the gills, but Smee and Starkey clung to each other in terror.
"Who are you, stranger? Speak!" Hook
demanded.
"I am James Hook," replied the voice,
"captain of the JOLLY ROGER."
"You are not; you are not," Hook cri=
ed
hoarsely.
"Brimstone and gall," the voice
retorted, "say that again, and I'll cast anchor in you."
Hook tried a more ingratiating manner. "If
you are Hook," he said almost humbly, "come tell me, who am I?&qu=
ot;
"A codfish," replied the voice,
"only a codfish."
"A codfish!" Hook echoed blankly, an=
d it
was then, but not till then, that his proud spirit broke. He saw his men dr=
aw
back from him.
"Have we been captained all this time by a
codfish!" they muttered. "It is lowering to our pride."
They were his dogs snapping at him, but, tragic
figure though he had become, he scarcely heeded them. Against such fearful
evidence it was not their belief in him that he needed, it was his own. He =
felt
his ego slipping from him. "Don't desert me, bully," he whispered
hoarsely to it.
In his dark nature there was a touch of the
feminine, as in all the great pirates, and it sometimes gave him intuitions.
Suddenly he tried the guessing game.
"Hook," he called, "have you
another voice?"
Now Peter could never resist a game, and he
answered blithely in his own voice, "I have."
"And another name?"
"Ay, ay."
"Vegetable?" asked Hook.
"No."
"Mineral?"
"No."
"Animal?"
"Yes."
"Man?"
"No!" This answer rang out scornfull=
y.
"Boy?"
"Yes."
"Ordinary boy?"
"No!"
"Wonderful boy?"
To Wendy's pain the answer that rang out this =
time
was "Yes."
"Are you in England?"
"No."
"Are you here?"
"Yes."
Hook was completely puzzled. "You ask him
some questions," he said to the others, wiping his damp brow.
Smee reflected. "I can't think of a
thing," he said regretfully.
"Can't guess, can't guess!" crowed
Peter. "Do you give it up?"
Of course in his pride he was carrying the game
too far, and the miscreants [villains] saw their chance.
"Yes, yes," they answered eagerly. <= o:p>
"Well, then," he cried, "I am P=
eter
Pan."
Pan!
In a moment Hook was himself again, and Smee a=
nd
Starkey were his faithful henchmen.
"Now we have him," Hook shouted.
"Into the water, Smee. Starkey, mind the boat. Take him dead or
alive!"
He leaped as he spoke, and simultaneously came=
the
gay voice of Peter.
"Are you ready, boys?"
"Ay, ay," from various parts of the
lagoon.
"Then lam into the pirates."
The fight was short and sharp. First to draw b=
lood
was John, who gallantly climbed into the boat and held Starkey. There was
fierce struggle, in which the cutlass was torn from the pirate's grasp. He =
wriggled
overboard and John leapt after him. The dinghy drifted away.
Here and there a head bobbed up in the water, =
and
there was a flash of steel followed by a cry or a whoop. In the confusion s=
ome
struck at their own side. The corkscrew of Smee got Tootles in the fourth r=
ib,
but he was himself pinked [nicked] in turn by Curly. Farther from the rock =
Starkey
was pressing Slightly and the twins hard.
Where all this time was Peter? He was seeking
bigger game.
The others were all brave boys, and they must =
not
be blamed for backing from the pirate captain. His iron claw made a circle =
of
dead water round him, from which they fled like affrighted fishes.
But there was one who did not fear him: there =
was
one prepared to enter that circle.
Strangely, it was not in the water that they m=
et.
Hook rose to the rock to breathe, and at the same moment Peter scaled it on=
the
opposite side. The rock was slippery as a ball, and they had to crawl rather
than climb. Neither knew that the other was coming. Each feeling for a grip=
met
the other's arm: in surprise they raised their heads; their faces were almo=
st
touching; so they met.
Some of the greatest heroes have confessed that
just before they fell to [began combat] they had a sinking [feeling in the
stomach]. Had it been so with Peter at that moment I would admit it. After =
all,
he was the only man that the Sea-Cook had feared. But Peter had no sinking,=
he
had one feeling only, gladness; and he gnashed his pretty teeth with joy. Q=
uick
as thought he snatched a knife from Hook's belt and was about to drive it h=
ome,
when he saw that he was higher up the rock that his foe. It would not have =
been
fighting fair. He gave the pirate a hand to help him up.
It was then that Hook bit him.
Not the pain of this but its unfairness was wh=
at
dazed Peter. It made him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Ev=
ery
child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks=
he has
a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been
unfair to him he will love you again, but will never afterwards be quite the
same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter. =
He
often met it, but he always forgot it. I suppose that was the real differen=
ce
between him and all the rest.
So when he met it now it was like the first ti=
me;
and he could just stare, helpless. Twice the iron hand clawed him.
A few moments afterwards the other boys saw Ho=
ok
in the water striking wildly for the ship; no elation on the pestilent face
now, only white fear, for the crocodile was in dogged pursuit of him. On
ordinary occasions the boys would have swum alongside cheering; but now they
were uneasy, for they had lost both Peter and Wendy, and were scouring the =
lagoon
for them, calling them by name. They found the dinghy and went home in it,
shouting "Peter, Wendy" as they went, but no answer came save moc=
king
laughter from the mermaids. "They must be swimming back or flying,&quo=
t;
the boys concluded. They were not very anxious, because they had such faith=
in
Peter. They chuckled, boylike, because they would be late for bed; and it w=
as
all mother Wendy's fault!
When their voices died away there came cold
silence over the lagoon, and then a feeble cry.
"Help, help!"
Two small figures were beating against the roc=
k;
the girl had fainted and lay on the boy's arm. With a last effort Peter pul=
led
her up the rock and then lay down beside her. Even as he also fainted he saw
that the water was rising. He knew that they would soon be drowned, but he =
could
do no more.
As they lay side by side a mermaid caught Wend=
y by
the feet, and began pulling her softly into the water. Peter, feeling her s=
lip
from him, woke with a start, and was just in time to draw her back. But he =
had
to tell her the truth.
"We are on the rock, Wendy," he said,
"but it is growing smaller. Soon the water will be over it."
She did not understand even now.
"We must go," she said, almost brigh=
tly.
"Yes," he answered faintly.
"Shall we swim or fly, Peter?"
He had to tell her.
"Do you think you could swim or fly as fa=
r as
the island, Wendy, without my help?"
She had to admit that she was too tired.
He moaned.
"What is it?" she asked, anxious abo=
ut
him at once.
"I can't help you, Wendy. Hook wounded me=
. I
can neither fly nor swim."
"Do you mean we shall both be drowned?&qu=
ot;
"Look how the water is rising."
They put their hands over their eyes to shut o=
ut
the sight. They thought they would soon be no more. As they sat thus someth=
ing
brushed against Peter as light as a kiss, and stayed there, as if saying ti=
midly,
"Can I be of any use?"
It was the tail of a kite, which Michael had m=
ade
some days before. It had torn itself out of his hand and floated away.
"Michael's kite," Peter said without
interest, but next moment he had seized the tail, and was pulling the kite
toward him.
"It lifted Michael off the ground," =
he
cried; "why should it not carry you?"
"Both of us!"
"It can't lift two; Michael and Curly
tried."
"Let us draw lots," Wendy said brave=
ly.
"And you a lady; never." Already he =
had
tied the tail round her. She clung to him; she refused to go without him; b=
ut
with a "Good-bye, Wendy," he pushed her from the rock; and in a f=
ew
minutes she was borne out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon.
The rock was very small now; soon it would be
submerged. Pale rays of light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there
was to be heard a sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in=
the
world: the mermaids calling to the moon.
Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was
afraid at last. A tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the =
sea;
but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them,=
and
Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock agai=
n,
with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying,
"To die will be an awfully big adventure."
The last sound Peter heard before he was quite
alone were the mermaids retiring one by one to their bedchambers under the =
sea.
He was too far away to hear their doors shut; but every door in the coral c=
aves
where they live rings a tiny bell when it opens or closes (as in all the ni=
cest
houses on the mainland), and he heard the bells.
Steadily the waters rose till they were nibbli=
ng
at his feet; and to pass the time until they made their final gulp, he watc=
hed
the only thing on the lagoon. He thought it was a piece of floating paper, =
perhaps
part of the kite, and wondered idly how long it would take to drift ashore.=
Presently he noticed as an odd thing that it w=
as
undoubtedly out upon the lagoon with some definite purpose, for it was figh=
ting
the tide, and sometimes winning; and when it won, Peter, always sympathetic=
to the
weaker side, could not help clapping; it was such a gallant piece of paper.=
It was not really a piece of paper; it was the
Never bird, making desperate efforts to reach Peter on the nest. By working=
her
wings, in a way she had learned since the nest fell into the water, she was
able to some extent to guide her strange craft, but by the time Peter
recognised her she was very exhausted. She had come to save him, to give him
her nest, though there were eggs in it. I rather wonder at the bird, for th=
ough
he had been nice to her, he had also sometimes tormented her. I can suppose
only that, like Mrs. Darling and the rest of them, she was melted because he
had all his first teeth.
She called out to him what she had come for, a=
nd
he called out to her what she was doing there; but of course neither of them
understood the other's language. In fanciful stories people can talk to the
birds freely, and I wish for the moment I could pretend that this were such=
a story,
and say that Peter replied intelligently to the Never bird; but truth is be=
st,
and I want to tell you only what really happened. Well, not only could they=
not
understand each other, but they forgot their manners.
"I--want--you--to--get--into--the--nest,&=
quot;
the bird called, speaking as slowly and distinctly as possible,
"and--then--you--can--drift--ashore, but--I--am--too--tired--to--bring=
--it--any--nearer--so--you--must--try
to--swim--to--it."
"What are you quacking about?" Peter
answered. "Why don't you let the nest drift as usual?"
"I--want--you--" the bird said, and
repeated it all over.
Then Peter tried slow and distinct.
"What--are--you--quacking--about?" a=
nd
so on.
The Never bird became irritated; they have very
short tempers.
"You dunderheaded little jay," she
screamed, "Why don't you do as I tell you?"
Peter felt that she was calling him names, and=
at
a venture he retorted hotly:
"So are you!"
Then rather curiously they both snapped out the
same remark:
"Shut up!"
"Shut up!"
Nevertheless the bird was determined to save h=
im
if she could, and by one last mighty effort she propelled the nest against =
the
rock. Then up she flew; deserting her eggs, so as to make her meaning clear=
.
Then at last he understood, and clutched the n=
est
and waved his thanks to the bird as she fluttered overhead. It was not to
receive his thanks, however, that she hung there in the sky; it was not eve=
n to
watch him get into the nest; it was to see what he did with her eggs.
There were two large white eggs, and Peter lif=
ted
them up and reflected. The bird covered her face with her wings, so as not =
to
see the last of them; but she could not help peeping between the feathers. =
I forget whether I have told you that there wa=
s a
stave on the rock, driven into it by some buccaneers of long ago to mark the
site of buried treasure. The children had discovered the glittering hoard, =
and
when in a mischievous mood used to fling showers of moidores, diamonds, pea=
rls and
pieces of eight to the gulls, who pounced upon them for food, and then flew
away, raging at the scurvy trick that had been played upon them. The stave =
was
still there, and on it Starkey had hung his hat, a deep tarpaulin, watertig=
ht,
with a broad brim. Peter put the eggs into this hat and set it on the lagoo=
n.
It floated beautifully.
The Never bird saw at once what he was up to, =
and
screamed her admiration of him; and, alas, Peter crowed his agreement with =
her.
Then he got into the nest, reared the stave in it as a mast, and hung up hi=
s shirt
for a sail. At the same moment the bird fluttered down upon the hat and once
more sat snugly on her eggs. She drifted in one direction, and he was borne=
off
in another, both cheering.
Of course when Peter landed he beached his bar=
que
[small ship, actually the Never Bird's nest in this particular case in poin=
t]
in a place where the bird would easily find it; but the hat was such a great
success that she abandoned the nest. It drifted about till it went to piece=
s,
and often Starkey came to the shore of the lagoon, and with many bitter fee=
lings
watched the bird sitting on his hat. As we shall not see her again, it may =
be
worth mentioning here that all Never birds now build in that shape of nest,
with a broad brim on which the youngsters take an airing.
Great were the rejoicings when Peter reached t=
he
home under the ground almost as soon as Wendy, who had been carried hither =
and
thither by the kite. Every boy had adventures to tell; but perhaps the bigg=
est adventure
of all was that they were several hours late for bed. This so inflated them
that they did various dodgy things to get staying up still longer, such as
demanding bandages; but Wendy, though glorying in having them all home again
safe and sound, was scandalised by the lateness of the hour, and cried,
"To bed, to bed," in a voice that had to be obeyed. Next day,
however, she was awfully tender, and gave out bandages to every one, and th=
ey
played till bed-time at limping about and carrying their arms in slings.
One important result of the brush [with the
pirates] on the lagoon was that it made the redskins their friends. Peter h=
ad
saved Tiger Lily from a dreadful fate, and now there was nothing she and her
braves would not do for him. All night they sat above, keeping watch over t=
he
home under the ground and awaiting the big attack by the pirates which
obviously could not be much longer delayed. Even by day they hung about, sm=
oking
the pipe of peace, and looking almost as if they wanted tit-bits to eat.
They called Peter the Great White Father,
prostrating themselves [lying down] before him; and he liked this tremendou=
sly,
so that it was not really good for him.
"The great white father," he would s=
ay
to them in a very lordly manner, as they grovelled at his feet, "is gl=
ad
to see the Piccaninny warriors protecting his wigwam from the pirates."=
;
"Me Tiger Lily," that lovely creature
would reply. "Peter Pan save me, me his velly nice friend. Me no let
pirates hurt him."
She was far too pretty to cringe in this way, =
but
Peter thought it his due, and he would answer condescendingly, "It is
good. Peter Pan has spoken."
Always when he said, "Peter Pan has
spoken," it meant that they must now shut up, and they accepted it hum=
bly
in that spirit; but they were by no means so respectful to the other boys, =
whom
they looked upon as just ordinary braves. They said "How-do?" to
them, and things like that; and what annoyed the boys was that Peter seemed=
to
think this all right.
Secretly Wendy sympathised with them a little,=
but
she was far too loyal a housewife to listen to any complaints against fathe=
r.
"Father knows best," she always said, whatever her private opinion
must be. Her private opinion was that the redskins should not call her a sq=
uaw.
We have now reached the evening that was to be
known among them as the Night of Nights, because of its adventures and their
upshot. The day, as if quietly gathering its forces, had been almost uneven=
tful,
and now the redskins in their blankets were at their posts above, while, be=
low,
the children were having their evening meal; all except Peter, who had gone=
out
to get the time. The way you got the time on the island was to find the
crocodile, and then stay near him till the clock struck.
The meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and
they sat around the board, guzzling in their greed; and really, what with t=
heir
chatter and recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, was positively deafen=
ing.
To be sure, she did not mind noise, but she simply would not have them grab=
bing
things, and then excusing themselves by saying that Tootles had pushed their
elbow. There was a fixed rule that they must never hit back at meals, but
should refer the matter of dispute to Wendy by raising the right arm polite=
ly
and saying, "I complain of so-and-so;" but what usually happened =
was
that they forgot to do this or did it too much.
"Silence," cried Wendy when for the
twentieth time she had told them that they were not all to speak at once.
"Is your mug empty, Slightly darling?"
"Not quite empty, mummy," Slightly s=
aid,
after looking into an imaginary mug.
"He hasn't even begun to drink his
milk," Nibs interposed.
This was telling, and Slightly seized his chan=
ce.
"I complain of Nibs," he cried promp=
tly.
John, however, had held up his hand first.
"Well, John?"
"May I sit in Peter's chair, as he is not
here?"
"Sit in father's chair, John!" Wendy=
was
scandalised. "Certainly not."
"He is not really our father," John =
answered.
"He didn't even know how a father does till I showed him."
This was grumbling. "We complain of
John," cried the twins.
Tootles held up his hand. He was so much the
humblest of them, indeed he was the only humble one, that Wendy was special=
ly
gentle with him.
"I don't suppose," Tootles said
diffidently [bashfully or timidly], "that I could be father."
"No, Tootles."
Once Tootles began, which was not very often, =
he
had a silly way of going on.
"As I can't be father," he said heav=
ily,
"I don't suppose, Michael, you would let me be baby?"
"No, I won't," Michael rapped out. He
was already in his basket.
"As I can't be baby," Tootles said,
getting heavier and heavier and heavier, "do you think I could be a
twin?"
"No, indeed," replied the twins;
"it's awfully difficult to be a twin."
"As I can't be anything important," =
said
Tootles, "would any of you like to see me do a trick?"
"No," they all replied.
Then at last he stopped. "I hadn't really=
any
hope," he said.
The hateful telling broke out again.
"Slightly is coughing on the table."=
"The twins began with cheese-cakes."=
"Curly is taking both butter and honey.&q=
uot;
"Nibs is speaking with his mouth full.&qu=
ot;
"I complain of the twins."
"I complain of Curly."
"I complain of Nibs."
"Oh dear, oh dear," cried Wendy,
"I'm sure I sometimes think that spinsters are to be envied."
She told them to clear away, and sat down to h=
er
work-basket, a heavy load of stockings and every knee with a hole in it as
usual.
"Wendy," remonstrated [scolded] Mich=
ael,
"I'm too big for a cradle."
"I must have somebody in a cradle," =
she
said almost tartly, "and you are the littlest. A cradle is such a nice
homely thing to have about a house."
While she sewed they played around her; such a
group of happy faces and dancing limbs lit up by that romantic fire. It had
become a very familiar scene, this, in the home under the ground, but we are
looking on it for the last time.
There was a step above, and Wendy, you may be
sure, was the first to recognize it.
"Children, I hear your father's step. He
likes you to meet him at the door."
Above, the redskins crouched before Peter.
"Watch well, braves. I have spoken."=
And then, as so often before, the gay children
dragged him from his tree. As so often before, but never again.
He had brought nuts for the boys as well as the
correct time for Wendy.
"Peter, you just spoil them, you know,&qu=
ot;
Wendy simpered [exaggerated a smile].
"Ah, old lady," said Peter, hanging =
up
his gun.
"It was me told him mothers are called old
lady," Michael whispered to Curly.
"I complain of Michael," said Curly
instantly.
The first twin came to Peter. "Father, we
want to dance."
"Dance away, my little man," said Pe=
ter,
who was in high good humour.
"But we want you to dance."
Peter was really the best dancer among them, b=
ut
he pretended to be scandalised.
"Me! My old bones would rattle!"
"And mummy too."
"What," cried Wendy, "the mothe=
r of
such an armful, dance!"
"But on a Saturday night," Slightly
insinuated.
It was not really Saturday night, at least it =
may
have been, for they had long lost count of the days; but always if they wan=
ted
to do anything special they said this was Saturday night, and then they did=
it.
"Of course it is Saturday night, Peter,&q=
uot;
Wendy said, relenting.
"People of our figure, Wendy!"
"But it is only among our own progeny
[children]."
"True, true."
So they were told they could dance, but they m=
ust
put on their nighties first.
"Ah, old lady," Peter said aside to
Wendy, warming himself by the fire and looking down at her as she sat turni=
ng a
heel, "there is nothing more pleasant of an evening for you and me when
the day's toil is over than to rest by the fire with the little ones near
by."
"It is sweet, Peter, isn't it?" Wendy
said, frightfully gratified. "Peter, I think Curly has your nose."=
;
"Michael takes after you."
She went to him and put her hand on his should=
er.
"Dear Peter," she said, "with s=
uch
a large family, of course, I have now passed my best, but you don't want to
[ex]change me, do you?"
"No, Wendy."
Certainly he did not want a change, but he loo=
ked
at her uncomfortably, blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was
awake or asleep.
"Peter, what is it?"
"I was just thinking," he said, a li=
ttle
scared. "It is only make-believe, isn't it, that I am their father?&qu=
ot;
"Oh yes," Wendy said primly [formally
and properly].
"You see," he continued apologetical=
ly,
"it would make me seem so old to be their real father."
"But they are ours, Peter, yours and
mine."
"But not really, Wendy?" he asked
anxiously.
"Not if you don't wish it," she repl=
ied;
and she distinctly heard his sigh of relief. "Peter," she asked,
trying to speak firmly, "what are your exact feelings to [about] me?&q=
uot;
"Those of a devoted son, Wendy."
"I thought so," she said, and went a=
nd
sat by herself at the extreme end of the room.
"You are so queer," he said, frankly
puzzled, "and Tiger Lily is just the same. There is something she want=
s to
be to me, but she says it is not my mother."
"No, indeed, it is not," Wendy repli=
ed
with frightful emphasis. Now we know why she was prejudiced against the
redskins.
"Then what is it?"
"It isn't for a lady to tell."
"Oh, very well," Peter said, a little
nettled. "Perhaps Tinker Bell will tell me."
"Oh yes, Tinker Bell will tell you,"
Wendy retorted scornfully. "She is an abandoned little creature."=
Here Tink, who was in her bedroom, eavesdroppi=
ng,
squeaked out something impudent.
"She says she glories in being
abandoned," Peter interpreted.
He had a sudden idea. "Perhaps Tink wants=
to
be my mother?"
"You silly ass!" cried Tinker Bell i=
n a
passion.
She had said it so often that Wendy needed no
translation.
"I almost agree with her," Wendy
snapped. Fancy Wendy snapping! But she had been much tried, and she little =
knew
what was to happen before the night was out. If she had known she would not
have snapped.
None of them knew. Perhaps it was best not to
know. Their ignorance gave them one more glad hour; and as it was to be the=
ir
last hour on the island, let us rejoice that there were sixty glad minutes =
in
it. They sang and danced in their night-gowns. Such a deliciously creepy so=
ng it
was, in which they pretended to be frightened at their own shadows, little
witting that so soon shadows would close in upon them, from whom they would
shrink in real fear. So uproariously gay was the dance, and how they buffet=
ed
each other on the bed and out of it! It was a pillow fight rather than a da=
nce,
and when it was finished, the pillows insisted on one bout more, like partn=
ers
who know that they may never meet again. The stories they told, before it w=
as
time for Wendy's good-night story! Even Slightly tried to tell a story that
night, but the beginning was so fearfully dull that it appalled not only the
others but himself, and he said happily:
"Yes, it is a dull beginning. I say, let =
us
pretend that it is the end."
And then at last they all got into bed for Wen=
dy's
story, the story they loved best, the story Peter hated. Usually when she b=
egan
to tell this story he left the room or put his hands over his ears; and pos=
sibly
if he had done either of those things this time they might all still be on =
the
island. But to-night he remained on his stool; and we shall see what happen=
ed.
"Listen, then," said Wendy, settling
down to her story, with Michael at her feet and seven boys in the bed.
"There was once a gentleman--"
"I had rather he had been a lady," C=
urly
said.
"I wish he had been a white rat," sa=
id
Nibs.
"Quiet," their mother admonished
[cautioned] them. "There was a lady also, and--"
"Oh, mummy," cried the first twin,
"you mean that there is a lady also, don't you? She is not dead, is
she?"
"Oh, no."
"I am awfully glad she isn't dead," =
said
Tootles. "Are you glad, John?"
"Of course I am."
"Are you glad, Nibs?"
"Rather."
"Are you glad, Twins?"
"We are glad."
"Oh dear," sighed Wendy.
"Little less noise there," Peter cal=
led
out, determined that she should have fair play, however beastly a story it
might be in his opinion.
"The gentleman's name," Wendy contin=
ued,
"was Mr. Darling, and her name was Mrs. Darling."
"I knew them," John said, to annoy t=
he
others.
"I think I knew them," said Michael
rather doubtfully.
"They were married, you know," expla=
ined
Wendy, "and what do you think they had?"
"White rats," cried Nibs, inspired. =
"No."
"It's awfully puzzling," said Tootle=
s,
who knew the story by heart.
"Quiet, Tootles. They had three
descendants."
"What is descendants?"
"Well, you are one, Twin."
"Did you hear that, John? I am a
descendant."
"Descendants are only children," said
John.
"Oh dear, oh dear," sighed Wendy.
"Now these three children had a faithful nurse called Nana; but Mr.
Darling was angry with her and chained her up in the yard, and so all the
children flew away."
"It's an awfully good story," said N=
ibs.
"They flew away," Wendy continued,
"to the Neverland, where the lost children are."
"I just thought they did," Curly bro=
ke
in excitedly. "I don't know how it is, but I just thought they did!&qu=
ot;
"O Wendy," cried Tootles, "was =
one
of the lost children called Tootles?"
"Yes, he was."
"I am in a story. Hurrah, I am in a story,
Nibs."
"Hush. Now I want you to consider the feelings of the unhappy parents with all their children flown away." <= o:p>
"Oo!" they all moaned, though they w=
ere
not really considering the feelings of the unhappy parents one jot.
"Think of the empty beds!"
"Oo!"
"It's awfully sad," the first twin s=
aid
cheerfully.
"I don't see how it can have a happy
ending," said the second twin. "Do you, Nibs?"
"I'm frightfully anxious."
"If you knew how great is a mother's
love," Wendy told them triumphantly, "you would have no fear.&quo=
t;
She had now come to the part that Peter hated.
"I do like a mother's love," said
Tootles, hitting Nibs with a pillow. "Do you like a mother's love,
Nibs?"
"I do just," said Nibs, hitting back=
.
"You see," Wendy said complacently,
"our heroine knew that the mother would always leave the window open f=
or
her children to fly back by; so they stayed away for years and had a lovely
time."
"Did they ever go back?"
"Let us now," said Wendy, bracing
herself up for her finest effort, "take a peep into the future;" =
and
they all gave themselves the twist that makes peeps into the future easier.
"Years have rolled by, and who is this elegant lady of uncertain age
alighting at London Station?"
"O Wendy, who is she?" cried Nibs, e=
very
bit as excited as if he didn't know.
"Can it be--yes--no--it is--the fair
Wendy!"
"Oh!"
"And who are the two noble portly figures
accompanying her, now grown to man's estate? Can they be John and Michael? =
They
are!"
"Oh!"
"'See, dear brothers,' says Wendy pointing
upwards, 'there is the window still standing open. Ah, now we are rewarded =
for
our sublime faith in a mother's love.' So up they flew to their mummy and
daddy, and pen cannot describe the happy scene, over which we draw a
veil."
That was the story, and they were as pleased w=
ith
it as the fair narrator herself. Everything just as it should be, you see. =
Off
we skip like the most heartless things in the world, which is what children
are, but so attractive; and we have an entirely selfish time, and then when=
we
have need of special attention we nobly return for it, confident that we sh=
all
be rewarded instead of smacked.
So great indeed was their faith in a mother's =
love
that they felt they could afford to be callous for a bit longer.
But there was one there who knew better, and w=
hen
Wendy finished he uttered a hollow groan.
"What is it, Peter?" she cried, runn=
ing
to him, thinking he was ill. She felt him solicitously, lower down than his
chest. "Where is it, Peter?"
"It isn't that kind of pain," Peter
replied darkly.
"Then what kind is it?"
"Wendy, you are wrong about mothers."=
;
They all gathered round him in affright, so
alarming was his agitation; and with a fine candour he told them what he had
hitherto concealed.
"Long ago," he said, "I thought
like you that my mother would always keep the window open for me, so I stay=
ed
away for moons and moons and moons, and then flew back; but the window was
barred, for mother had forgotten all about me, and there was another little=
boy
sleeping in my bed."
I am not sure that this was true, but Peter
thought it was true; and it scared them.
"Are you sure mothers are like that?"=
;
"Yes."
So this was the truth about mothers. The toads=
!
Still it is best to be careful; and no one kno=
ws
so quickly as a child when he should give in. "Wendy, let us [let's] go
home," cried John and Michael together.
"Yes," she said, clutching them.
"Not to-night?" asked the lost boys
bewildered. They knew in what they called their hearts that one can get on
quite well without a mother, and that it is only the mothers who think you
can't.
"At once," Wendy replied resolutely,=
for
the horrible thought had come to her: "Perhaps mother is in half mourn=
ing
by this time."
This dread made her forgetful of what must be
Peter's feelings, and she said to him rather sharply, "Peter, will you
make the necessary arrangements?"
"If you wish it," he replied, as coo=
lly
as if she had asked him to pass the nuts.
Not so much as a sorry-to-lose-you between the=
m!
If she did not mind the parting, he was going to show her, was Peter, that
neither did he.
But of course he cared very much; and he was so
full of wrath against grown-ups, who, as usual, were spoiling everything, t=
hat
as soon as he got inside his tree he breathed intentionally quick short bre=
aths
at the rate of about five to a second. He did this because there is a sayin=
g in
the Neverland that, every time you breathe, a grown-up dies; and Peter was
killing them off vindictively as fast as possible.
Then having given the necessary instructions to
the redskins he returned to the home, where an unworthy scene had been enac=
ted
in his absence. Panic-stricken at the thought of losing Wendy the lost boys=
had
advanced upon her threateningly.
"It will be worse than before she came,&q=
uot;
they cried.
"We shan't let her go."
"Let's keep her prisoner."
"Ay, chain her up."
In her extremity an instinct told her to which=
of
them to turn.
"Tootles," she cried, "I appeal=
to
you."
Was it not strange? She appealed to Tootles, q=
uite
the silliest one.
Grandly, however, did Tootles respond. For that
one moment he dropped his silliness and spoke with dignity.
"I am just Tootles," he said, "=
and
nobody minds me. But the first who does not behave to Wendy like an English
gentleman I will blood him severely."
He drew back his hanger; and for that instant =
his
sun was at noon. The others held back uneasily. Then Peter returned, and th=
ey
saw at once that they would get no support from him. He would keep no girl =
in the
Neverland against her will.
"Wendy," he said, striding up and do=
wn,
"I have asked the redskins to guide you through the wood, as flying ti=
res
you so."
"Thank you, Peter."
"Then," he continued, in the short s=
harp
voice of one accustomed to be obeyed, "Tinker Bell will take you across
the sea. Wake her, Nibs."
Nibs had to knock twice before he got an answe=
r,
though Tink had really been sitting up in bed listening for some time.
"Who are you? How dare you? Go away,"
she cried.
"You are to get up, Tink," Nibs call=
ed,
"and take Wendy on a journey."
Of course Tink had been delighted to hear that
Wendy was going; but she was jolly well determined not to be her courier, a=
nd
she said so in still more offensive language. Then she pretended to be asle=
ep
again.
"She says she won't!" Nibs exclaimed,
aghast at such insubordination, whereupon Peter went sternly toward the you=
ng
lady's chamber.
"Tink," he rapped out, "if you
don't get up and dress at once I will open the curtains, and then we shall =
all
see you in your negligee [nightgown]."
This made her leap to the floor. "Who sai=
d I
wasn't getting up?" she cried.
In the meantime the boys were gazing very
forlornly at Wendy, now equipped with John and Michael for the journey. By =
this
time they were dejected, not merely because they were about to lose her, but
also because they felt that she was going off to something nice to which th=
ey had
not been invited. Novelty was beckoning to them as usual.
Crediting them with a nobler feeling Wendy mel=
ted.
"Dear ones," she said, "if you =
will
all come with me I feel almost sure I can get my father and mother to adopt
you."
The invitation was meant specially for Peter, =
but
each of the boys was thinking exclusively of himself, and at once they jump=
ed
with joy.
"But won't they think us rather a
handful?" Nibs asked in the middle of his jump.
"Oh no," said Wendy, rapidly thinkin=
g it
out, "it will only mean having a few beds in the drawing-room; they ca=
n be
hidden behind the screens on first Thursdays."
"Peter, can we go?" they all cried
imploringly. They took it for granted that if they went he would go also, b=
ut
really they scarcely cared. Thus children are ever ready, when novelty knoc=
ks,
to desert their dearest ones.
"All right," Peter replied with a bi=
tter
smile, and immediately they rushed to get their things.
"And now, Peter," Wendy said, thinki=
ng
she had put everything right, "I am going to give you your medicine be=
fore
you go." She loved to give them medicine, and undoubtedly gave them too
much. Of course it was only water, but it was out of a bottle, and she alwa=
ys
shook the bottle and counted the drops, which gave it a certain medicinal
quality. On this occasion, however, she did not give Peter his draught
[portion], for just as she had prepared it, she saw a look on his face that
made her heart sink.
"Get your things, Peter," she cried,
shaking.
"No," he answered, pretending
indifference, "I am not going with you, Wendy."
"Yes, Peter."
"No."
To show that her departure would leave him
unmoved, he skipped up and down the room, playing gaily on his heartless pi=
pes.
She had to run about after him, though it was rather undignified.
"To find your mother," she coaxed. <= o:p>
Now, if Peter had ever quite had a mother, he =
no
longer missed her. He could do very well without one. He had thought them o=
ut,
and remembered only their bad points.
"No, no," he told Wendy decisively;
"perhaps she would say I was old, and I just want always to be a little
boy and to have fun."
"But, Peter--"
"No."
And so the others had to be told.
"Peter isn't coming."
Peter not coming! They gazed blankly at him, t=
heir
sticks over their backs, and on each stick a bundle. Their first thought was
that if Peter was not going he had probably changed his mind about letting =
them
go.
But he was far too proud for that. "If you
find your mothers," he said darkly, "I hope you will like them.&q=
uot;
The awful cynicism of this made an uncomfortab=
le
impression, and most of them began to look rather doubtful. After all, their
faces said, were they not noodles to want to go?
"Now then," cried Peter, "no fu=
ss,
no blubbering; good-bye, Wendy;" and he held out his hand cheerily, qu=
ite
as if they must really go now, for he had something important to do.
She had to take his hand, and there was no
indication that he would prefer a thimble.
"You will remember about changing your
flannels, Peter?" she said, lingering over him. She was always so
particular about their flannels.
"Yes."
"And you will take your medicine?" <= o:p>
"Yes."
That seemed to be everything, and an awkward p=
ause
followed. Peter, however, was not the kind that breaks down before other
people. "Are you ready, Tinker Bell?" he called out.
"Ay, ay."
"Then lead the way."
Tink darted up the nearest tree; but no one
followed her, for it was at this moment that the pirates made their dreadful
attack upon the redskins. Above, where all had been so still, the air was r=
ent
with shrieks and the clash of steel. Below, there was dead silence. Mouths =
opened
and remained open. Wendy fell on her knees, but her arms were extended towa=
rd
Peter. All arms were extended to him, as if suddenly blown in his direction;
they were beseeching him mutely not to desert them. As for Peter, he seized=
his
sword, the same he thought he had slain Barbecue with, and the lust of batt=
le
was in his eye.
The pirate attack had been a complete surprise=
: a
sure proof that the unscrupulous Hook had conducted it improperly, for to
surprise redskins fairly is beyond the wit of the white man.
By all the unwritten laws of savage warfare it=
is
always the redskin who attacks, and with the wiliness of his race he does it
just before the dawn, at which time he knows the courage of the whites to b=
e at
its lowest ebb. The white men have in the meantime made a rude stockade on =
the
summit of yonder undulating ground, at the foot of which a stream runs, for=
it
is destruction to be too far from water. There they await the onslaught, the
inexperienced ones clutching their revolvers and treading on twigs, but the=
old
hands sleeping tranquilly until just before the dawn. Through the long black
night the savage scouts wriggle, snake-like, among the grass without stirri=
ng a
blade. The brushwood closes behind them, as silently as sand into which a m=
ole
has dived. Not a sound is to be heard, save when they give vent to a wonder=
ful imitation
of the lonely call of the coyote. The cry is answered by other braves; and =
some
of them do it even better than the coyotes, who are not very good at it. So=
the
chill hours wear on, and the long suspense is horribly trying to the palefa=
ce
who has to live through it for the first time; but to the trained hand those
ghastly calls and still ghastlier silences are but an intimation of how the
night is marching.
That this was the usual procedure was so well
known to Hook that in disregarding it he cannot be excused on the plea of
ignorance.
The Piccaninnies, on their part, trusted
implicitly to his honour, and their whole action of the night stands out in
marked contrast to his. They left nothing undone that was consistent with t=
he
reputation of their tribe. With that alertness of the senses which is at on=
ce
the marvel and despair of civilised peoples, they knew that the pirates wer=
e on
the island from the moment one of them trod on a dry stick; and in an
incredibly short space of time the coyote cries began. Every foot of ground
between the spot where Hook had landed his forces and the home under the tr=
ees
was stealthily examined by braves wearing their mocassins with the heels in
front. They found only one hillock with a stream at its base, so that Hook =
had
no choice; here he must establish himself and wait for just before the dawn.
Everything being thus mapped out with almost diabolical cunning, the main b=
ody
of the redskins folded their blankets around them, and in the phlegmatic ma=
nner
that is to them, the pearl of manhood squatted above the children's home,
awaiting the cold moment when they should deal pale death.
Here dreaming, though wide-awake, of the exqui=
site
tortures to which they were to put him at break of day, those confiding sav=
ages
were found by the treacherous Hook. From the accounts afterwards supplied by
such of the scouts as escaped the carnage, he does not seem even to have pa=
used
at the rising ground, though it is certain that in that grey light he must =
have
seen it: no thought of waiting to be attacked appears from first to last to
have visited his subtle mind; he would not even hold off till the night was
nearly spent; on he pounded with no policy but to fall to [get into combat].
What could the bewildered scouts do, masters as they were of every war-like
artifice save this one, but trot helplessly after him, exposing themselves
fatally to view, while they gave pathetic utterance to the coyote cry.
Around the brave Tiger Lily were a dozen of her
stoutest warriors, and they suddenly saw the perfidious pirates bearing down
upon them. Fell from their eyes then the film through which they had looked=
at victory.
No more would they torture at the stake. For them the happy hunting-grounds=
was
now. They knew it; but as their father's sons they acquitted themselves. Ev=
en
then they had time to gather in a phalanx [dense formation] that would have
been hard to break had they risen quickly, but this they were forbidden to =
do
by the traditions of their race. It is written that the noble savage must n=
ever
express surprise in the presence of the white. Thus terrible as the sudden
appearance of the pirates must have been to them, they remained stationary =
for
a moment, not a muscle moving; as if the foe had come by invitation. Then,
indeed, the tradition gallantly upheld, they seized their weapons, and the =
air was
torn with the war-cry; but it was now too late.
It is no part of ours to describe what was a
massacre rather than a fight. Thus perished many of the flower of the
Piccaninny tribe. Not all unavenged did they die, for with Lean Wolf fell A=
lf
Mason, to disturb the Spanish Main no more, and among others who bit the du=
st
were Geo. Scourie, Chas. Turley, and the Alsatian Foggerty. Turley fell to =
the tomahawk
of the terrible Panther, who ultimately cut a way through the pirates with
Tiger Lily and a small remnant of the tribe.
To what extent Hook is to blame for his tactic=
s on
this occasion is for the historian to decide. Had he waited on the rising
ground till the proper hour he and his men would probably have been butcher=
ed;
and in judging him it is only fair to take this into account. What he shoul=
d perhaps
have done was to acquaint his opponents that he proposed to follow a new
method. On the other hand, this, as destroying the element of surprise, wou=
ld
have made his strategy of no avail, so that the whole question is beset with
difficulties. One cannot at least withhold a reluctant admiration for the w=
it
that had conceived so bold a scheme, and the fell [deadly] genius with whic=
h it
was carried out.
What were his own feelings about himself at th=
at
triumphant moment? Fain [gladly] would his dogs have known, as breathing
heavily and wiping their cutlasses, they gathered at a discreet distance fr=
om
his hook, and squinted through their ferret eyes at this extraordinary man.
Elation must have been in his heart, but his face did not reflect it: ever =
a dark
and solitary enigma, he stood aloof from his followers in spirit as in
substance.
The night's work was not yet over, for it was =
not
the redskins he had come out to destroy; they were but the bees to be smoke=
d,
so that he should get at the honey. It was Pan he wanted, Pan and Wendy and
their band, but chiefly Pan.
Peter was such a small boy that one tends to
wonder at the man's hatred of him. True he had flung Hook's arm to the
crocodile, but even this and the increased insecurity of life to which it l=
ed,
owing to the crocodile's pertinacity [persistance], hardly account for a vi=
ndictiveness
so relentless and malignant. The truth is that there was a something about
Peter which goaded the pirate captain to frenzy. It was not his courage, it=
was
not his engaging appearance, it was not--. There is no beating about the bu=
sh,
for we know quite well what it was, and have got to tell. It was Peter's
cockiness.
This had got on Hook's nerves; it made his iron
claw twitch, and at night it disturbed him like an insect. While Peter live=
d,
the tortured man felt that he was a lion in a cage into which a sparrow had
come.
The question now was how to get down the trees=
, or
how to get his dogs down? He ran his greedy eyes over them, searching for t=
he
thinnest ones. They wriggled uncomfortably, for they knew he would not scru=
ple [hesitate]
to ram them down with poles.
In the meantime, what of the boys? We have seen
them at the first clang of the weapons, turned as it were into stone figure=
s,
open-mouthed, all appealing with outstretched arms to Peter; and we return =
to
them as their mouths close, and their arms fall to their sides. The pandemo=
nium
above has ceased almost as suddenly as it arose, passed like a fierce gust =
of
wind; but they know that in the passing it has determined their fate.
Which side had won?
The pirates, listening avidly at the mouths of=
the
trees, heard the question put by every boy, and alas, they also heard Peter=
's
answer.
"If the redskins have won," he said,
"they will beat the tom-tom; it is always their sign of victory."=
Now Smee had found the tom-tom, and was at that
moment sitting on it. "You will never hear the tom-tom again," he
muttered, but inaudibly of course, for strict silence had been enjoined
[urged]. To his amazement Hook signed him to beat the tom-tom, and slowly t=
here
came to Smee an understanding of the dreadful wickedness of the order. Neve=
r,
probably, had this simple man admired Hook so much.
Twice Smee beat upon the instrument, and then
stopped to listen gleefully.
"The tom-tom," the miscreants heard
Peter cry; "an Indian victory!"
The doomed children answered with a cheer that=
was
music to the black hearts above, and almost immediately they repeated their
good-byes to Peter. This puzzled the pirates, but all their other feelings =
were
swallowed by a base delight that the enemy were about to come up the trees.
They smirked at each other and rubbed their hands. Rapidly and silently Hook
gave his orders: one man to each tree, and the others to arrange themselves=
in
a line two yards apart.
The more quickly this horror is disposed of the
better. The first to emerge from his tree was Curly. He rose out of it into=
the
arms of Cecco, who flung him to Smee, who flung him to Starkey, who flung h=
im
to Bill Jukes, who flung him to Noodler, and so he was tossed from one to a=
nother
till he fell at the feet of the black pirate. All the boys were plucked from
their trees in this ruthless manner; and several of them were in the air at=
a
time, like bales of goods flung from hand to hand.
A different treatment was accorded to Wendy, w=
ho
came last. With ironical politeness Hook raised his hat to her, and, offeri=
ng
her his arm, escorted her to the spot where the others were being gagged. H=
e did
it with such an air, he was so frightfully DISTINGUE [imposingly distinguis=
hed],
that she was too fascinated to cry out. She was only a little girl.
Perhaps it is tell-tale to divulge that for a
moment Hook entranced her, and we tell on her only because her slip led to
strange results. Had she haughtily unhanded him (and we should have loved to
write it of her), she would have been hurled through the air like the other=
s,
and then Hook would probably not have been present at the tying of the
children; and had he not been at the tying he would not have discovered
Slightly's secret, and without the secret he could not presently have made =
his
foul attempt on Peter's life.
They were tied to prevent their flying away,
doubled up with their knees close to their ears; and for the trussing of th=
em
the black pirate had cut a rope into nine equal pieces. All went well until
Slightly's turn came, when he was found to be like those irritating parcels
that use up all the string in going round and leave no tags [ends] with whi=
ch
to tie a knot. The pirates kicked him in their rage, just as you kick the p=
arcel
(though in fairness you should kick the string); and strange to say it was =
Hook
who told them to belay their violence. His lip was curled with malicious
triumph. While his dogs were merely sweating because every time they tried =
to
pack the unhappy lad tight in one part he bulged out in another, Hook's mas=
ter
mind had gone far beneath Slightly's surface, probing not for effects but f=
or
causes; and his exultation showed that he had found them. Slightly, white to
the gills, knew that Hook had surprised [discovered] his secret, which was
this, that no boy so blown out could use a tree wherein an average man need=
stick.
Poor Slightly, most wretched of all the children now, for he was in a panic
about Peter, bitterly regretted what he had done. Madly addicted to the
drinking of water when he was hot, he had swelled in consequence to his pre=
sent
girth, and instead of reducing himself to fit his tree he had, unknown to t=
he
others, whittled his tree to make it fit him.
Sufficient of this Hook guessed to persuade him
that Peter at last lay at his mercy, but no word of the dark design that now
formed in the subterranean caverns of his mind crossed his lips; he merely
signed that the captives were to be conveyed to the ship, and that he would=
be alone.
How to convey them? Hunched up in their ropes =
they
might indeed be rolled down hill like barrels, but most of the way lay thro=
ugh
a morass. Again Hook's genius surmounted difficulties. He indicated that th=
e little
house must be used as a conveyance. The children were flung into it, four s=
tout
pirates raised it on their shoulders, the others fell in behind, and singing
the hateful pirate chorus the strange procession set off through the wood. I
don't know whether any of the children were crying; if so, the singing drow=
ned
the sound; but as the little house disappeared in the forest, a brave though
tiny jet of smoke issued from its chimney as if defying Hook.
Hook saw it, and it did Peter a bad service. It
dried up any trickle of pity for him that may have remained in the pirate's
infuriated breast.
The first thing he did on finding himself alon=
e in
the fast falling night was to tiptoe to Slightly's tree, and make sure that=
it
provided him with a passage. Then for long he remained brooding; his hat of=
ill
omen on the sward, so that any gentle breeze which had arisen might play re=
freshingly
through his hair. Dark as were his thoughts his blue eyes were as soft as t=
he
periwinkle. Intently he listened for any sound from the nether world, but a=
ll
was as silent below as above; the house under the ground seemed to be but o=
ne
more empty tenement in the void. Was that boy asleep, or did he stand waiti=
ng
at the foot of Slightly's tree, with his dagger in his hand?
There was no way of knowing, save by going dow=
n.
Hook let his cloak slip softly to the ground, and then biting his lips till=
a
lewd blood stood on them, he stepped into the tree. He was a brave man, but=
for
a moment he had to stop there and wipe his brow, which was dripping like a =
candle.
Then, silently, he let himself go into the unknown.
He arrived unmolested at the foot of the shaft,
and stood still again, biting at his breath, which had almost left him. As =
his
eyes became accustomed to the dim light various objects in the home under t=
he
trees took shape; but the only one on which his greedy gaze rested, long so=
ught
for and found at last, was the great bed. On the bed lay Peter fast asleep.=
Unaware of the tragedy being enacted above, Pe=
ter
had continued, for a little time after the children left, to play gaily on =
his
pipes: no doubt rather a forlorn attempt to prove to himself that he did not
care. Then he decided not to take his medicine, so as to grieve Wendy. Then=
he lay
down on the bed outside the coverlet, to vex her still more; for she had al=
ways
tucked them inside it, because you never know that you may not grow chilly =
at
the turn of the night. Then he nearly cried; but it struck him how indignant
she would be if he laughed instead; so he laughed a haughty laugh and fell
asleep in the middle of it.
Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and
they were more painful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could no=
t be
separated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to
do, I think, with the riddle of his existence. At such times it had been We=
ndy's
custom to take him out of bed and sit with him on her lap, soothing him in =
dear
ways of her own invention, and when he grew calmer to put him back to bed
before he quite woke up, so that he should not know of the indignity to whi=
ch
she had subjected him. But on this occasion he had fallen at once into a
dreamless sleep. One arm dropped over the edge of the bed, one leg was arch=
ed,
and the unfinished part of his laugh was stranded on his mouth, which was o=
pen,
showing the little pearls.
Thus defenceless Hook found him. He stood sile=
nt
at the foot of the tree looking across the chamber at his enemy. Did no fee=
ling
of compassion disturb his sombre breast? The man was not wholly evil; he lo=
ved
flowers (I have been told) and sweet music (he was himself no mean performe=
r on
the harpsichord); and, let it be frankly admitted, the idyllic nature of the
scene stirred him profoundly. Mastered by his better self he would have
returned reluctantly up the tree, but for one thing.
What stayed him was Peter's impertinent appear=
ance
as he slept. The open mouth, the drooping arm, the arched knee: they were s=
uch
a personification of cockiness as, taken together, will never again, one may
hope, be presented to eyes so sensitive to their offensiveness. They steeled
Hook's heart. If his rage had broken him into a hundred pieces every one of
them would have disregarded the incident, and leapt at the sleeper.
Though a light from the one lamp shone dimly on
the bed, Hook stood in darkness himself, and at the first stealthy step for=
ward
he discovered an obstacle, the door of Slightly's tree. It did not entirely
fill the aperture, and he had been looking over it. Feeling for the catch, =
he
found to his fury that it was low down, beyond his reach. To his disordered
brain it seemed then that the irritating quality in Peter's face and figure
visibly increased, and he rattled the door and flung himself against it. Was
his enemy to escape him after all?
But what was that? The red in his eye had caug=
ht
sight of Peter's medicine standing on a ledge within easy reach. He fathomed
what it was straightaway, and immediately knew that the sleeper was in his
power.
Lest he should be taken alive, Hook always car=
ried
about his person a dreadful drug, blended by himself of all the death-deali=
ng
rings that had come into his possession. These he had boiled down into a ye=
llow
liquid quite unknown to science, which was probably the most virulent poiso=
n in
existence.
Five drops of this he now added to Peter's cup.
His hand shook, but it was in exultation rather than in shame. As he did it=
he
avoided glancing at the sleeper, but not lest pity should unnerve him; mere=
ly
to avoid spilling. Then one long gloating look he cast upon his victim, and=
turning,
wormed his way with difficulty up the tree. As he emerged at the top he loo=
ked
the very spirit of evil breaking from its hole. Donning his hat at its most
rakish angle, he wound his cloak around him, holding one end in front as if=
to
conceal his person from the night, of which it was the blackest part, and
muttering strangely to himself, stole away through the trees.
Peter slept on. The light guttered [burned to
edges] and went out, leaving the tenement in darkness; but still he slept. =
It
must have been not less than ten o'clock by the crocodile, when he suddenly=
sat
up in his bed, wakened by he knew not what. It was a soft cautious tapping =
on the
door of his tree.
Soft and cautious, but in that stillness it was
sinister. Peter felt for his dagger till his hand gripped it. Then he spoke=
.
"Who is that?"
For long there was no answer: then again the
knock.
"Who are you?"
No answer.
He was thrilled, and he loved being thrilled. =
In
two strides he reached the door. Unlike Slightly's door, it filled the aper=
ture
[opening], so that he could not see beyond it, nor could the one knocking s=
ee
him.
"I won't open unless you speak," Pet=
er
cried.
Then at last the visitor spoke, in a lovely
bell-like voice.
"Let me in, Peter."
It was Tink, and quickly he unbarred to her. S=
he
flew in excitedly, her face flushed and her dress stained with mud.
"What is it?"
"Oh, you could never guess!" she cri=
ed,
and offered him three guesses. "Out with it!" he shouted, and in =
one
ungrammatical sentence, as long as the ribbons that conjurers [magicians] p=
ull
from their mouths, she told of the capture of Wendy and the boys.
Peter's heart bobbed up and down as he listene=
d.
Wendy bound, and on the pirate ship; she who loved everything to be just so=
!
"I'll rescue her!" he cried, leaping=
at
his weapons. As he leapt he thought of something he could do to please her.=
He
could take his medicine.
His hand closed on the fatal draught.
"No!" shrieked Tinker Bell, who had
heard Hook mutter about his deed as he sped through the forest.
"Why not?"
"It is poisoned."
"Poisoned? Who could have poisoned it?&qu=
ot;
"Hook."
"Don't be silly. How could Hook have got =
down
here?"
Alas, Tinker Bell could not explain this, for =
even
she did not know the dark secret of Slightly's tree. Nevertheless Hook's wo=
rds
had left no room for doubt. The cup was poisoned.
"Besides," said Peter, quite believi=
ng
himself "I never fell asleep."
He raised the cup. No time for words now; time=
for
deeds; and with one of her lightning movements Tink got between his lips and
the draught, and drained it to the dregs.
"Why, Tink, how dare you drink my
medicine?"
But she did not answer. Already she was reelin=
g in
the air.
"What is the matter with you?" cried
Peter, suddenly afraid.
"It was poisoned, Peter," she told h=
im
softly; "and now I am going to be dead."
"O Tink, did you drink it to save me?&quo=
t;
"Yes."
"But why, Tink?"
Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in
reply she alighted on his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. She
whispered in his ear "You silly ass," and then, tottering to her
chamber, lay down on the bed.
His head almost filled the fourth wall of her
little room as he knelt near her in distress. Every moment her light was
growing fainter; and he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She
liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them =
run
over it.
Her voice was so low that at first he could not
make out what she said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought
she could get well again if children believed in fairies.
Peter flung out his arms. There were no childr=
en
there, and it was night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of=
the
Neverland, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and gi=
rls
in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.
"Do you believe?" he cried.
Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to=
her
fate.
She fancied she heard answers in the affirmati=
ve,
and then again she wasn't sure.
"What do you think?" she asked Peter=
.
"If you believe," he shouted to them,
"clap your hands; don't let Tink die."
Many clapped.
Some didn't.
A few beasts hissed.
The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless
mothers had rushed to their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; b=
ut
already Tink was saved. First her voice grew strong, then she popped out of=
bed,
then she was flashing through the room more merry and impudent than ever. S=
he never
thought of thanking those who believed, but she would have like to get at t=
he
ones who had hissed.
"And now to rescue Wendy!"
The moon was riding in a cloudy heaven when Pe=
ter
rose from his tree, begirt [belted] with weapons and wearing little else, to
set out upon his perilous quest. It was not such a night as he would have
chosen. He had hoped to fly, keeping not far from the ground so that nothin=
g unwonted
should escape his eyes; but in that fitful light to have flown low would ha=
ve
meant trailing his shadow through the trees, thus disturbing birds and
acquainting a watchful foe that he was astir.
He regretted now that he had given the birds of
the island such strange names that they are very wild and difficult of
approach.
There was no other course but to press forward=
in
redskin fashion, at which happily he was an adept [expert]. But in what
direction, for he could not be sure that the children had been taken to the
ship? A light fall of snow had obliterated all footmarks; and a deathly sil=
ence
pervaded the island, as if for a space Nature stood still in horror of the
recent carnage. He had taught the children something of the forest lore tha=
t he
had himself learned from Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell, and knew that in their
dire hour they were not likely to forget it. Slightly, if he had an
opportunity, would blaze [cut a mark in] the trees, for instance, Curly wou=
ld
drop seeds, and Wendy would leave her handkerchief at some important place.=
The
morning was needed to search for such guidance, and he could not wait. The
upper world had called him, but would give no help.
The crocodile passed him, but not another livi=
ng
thing, not a sound, not a movement; and yet he knew well that sudden death
might be at the next tree, or stalking him from behind.
He swore this terrible oath: "Hook or me =
this
time."
Now he crawled forward like a snake, and again
erect, he darted across a space on which the moonlight played, one finger on
his lip and his dagger at the ready. He was frightfully happy.
One green light squinting over Kidd's Creek, w=
hich
is near the mouth of the pirate river, marked where the brig, the JOLLY ROG=
ER,
lay, low in the water; a rakish-looking [speedy-looking] craft foul to the
hull, every beam in her detestable, like ground strewn with mangled feather=
s. She
was the cannibal of the seas, and scarce needed that watchful eye, for she
floated immune in the horror of her name.
She was wrapped in the blanket of night, throu=
gh
which no sound from her could have reached the shore. There was little soun=
d,
and none agreeable save the whir of the ship's sewing machine at which Smee
sat, ever industrious and obliging, the essence of the commonplace, pathetic
Smee. I know not why he was so infinitely pathetic, unless it were because =
he
was so pathetically unaware of it; but even strong men had to turn hastily =
from
looking at him, and more than once on summer evenings he had touched the fo=
unt
of Hook's tears and made it flow. Of this, as of almost everything else, Sm=
ee
was quite unconscious.
A few of the pirates leant over the bulwarks,
drinking in the miasma [putrid mist] of the night; others sprawled by barre=
ls
over games of dice and cards; and the exhausted four who had carried the li=
ttle
house lay prone on the deck, where even in their sleep they rolled skillful=
ly to
this side or that out of Hook's reach, lest he should claw them mechanicall=
y in
passing.
Hook trod the deck in thought. O man unfathoma=
ble.
It was his hour of triumph. Peter had been removed for ever from his path, =
and
all the other boys were in the brig, about to walk the plank. It was his gr=
immest
deed since the days when he had brought Barbecue to heel; and knowing as we=
do
how vain a tabernacle is man, could we be surprised had he now paced the de=
ck
unsteadily, bellied out by the winds of his success?
But there was no elation in his gait, which ke=
pt
pace with the action of his sombre mind. Hook was profoundly dejected.
He was often thus when communing with himself =
on
board ship in the quietude of the night. It was because he was so terribly
alone. This inscrutable man never felt more alone than when surrounded by h=
is
dogs. They were socially inferior to him.
Hook was not his true name. To reveal who he
really was would even at this date set the country in a blaze; but as those=
who
read between the lines must already have guessed, he had been at a famous
public school; and its traditions still clung to him like garments, with wh=
ich
indeed they are largely concerned. Thus it was offensive to him even now to=
board
a ship in the same dress in which he grappled [attacked] her, and he still
adhered in his walk to the school's distinguished slouch. But above all he
retained the passion for good form.
Good form! However much he may have degenerate=
d,
he still knew that this is all that really matters.
From far within him he heard a creaking as of
rusty portals, and through them came a stern tap-tap-tap, like hammering in=
the
night when one cannot sleep. "Have you been good form to-day?" was
their eternal question.
"Fame, fame, that glittering bauble, it is
mine," he cried.
"Is it quite good form to be distinguishe=
d at
anything?" the tap-tap from his school replied.
"I am the only man whom Barbecue
feared," he urged, "and Flint feared Barbecue."
"Barbecue, Flint--what house?" came =
the
cutting retort.
Most disquieting reflection of all, was it not=
bad
form to think about good form?
His vitals were tortured by this problem. It w=
as a
claw within him sharper than the iron one; and as it tore him, the perspira=
tion
dripped down his tallow [waxy] countenance and streaked his doublet. Ofttim=
es
he drew his sleeve across his face, but there was no damming that trickle. =
Ah, envy not Hook.
There came to him a presentiment of his early
dissolution [death]. It was as if Peter's terrible oath had boarded the shi=
p.
Hook felt a gloomy desire to make his dying speech, lest presently there sh=
ould
be no time for it.
"Better for Hook," he cried, "i=
f he
had had less ambition!" It was in his darkest hours only that he refer=
red
to himself in the third person.
"No little children to love me!"
Strange that he should think of this, which had
never troubled him before; perhaps the sewing machine brought it to his min=
d.
For long he muttered to himself, staring at Smee, who was hemming placidly,
under the conviction that all children feared him.
Feared him! Feared Smee! There was not a child=
on
board the brig that night who did not already love him. He had said horrid
things to them and hit them with the palm of his hand, because he could not=
hit
with his fist, but they had only clung to him the more. Michael had tried o=
n his
spectacles.
To tell poor Smee that they thought him lovabl=
e!
Hook itched to do it, but it seemed too brutal. Instead, he revolved this
mystery in his mind: why do they find Smee lovable? He pursued the problem =
like
the sleuth-hound that he was. If Smee was lovable, what was it that made hi=
m so?
A terrible answer suddenly presented itself--"Good form?"
Had the bo'sun good form without knowing it, w=
hich
is the best form of all?
He remembered that you have to prove you don't
know you have it before you are eligible for Pop [an elite social club at
Eton].
With a cry of rage he raised his iron hand over
Smee's head; but he did not tear. What arrested him was this reflection:
"To claw a man because he is good form, w=
hat
would that be?"
"Bad form!"
The unhappy Hook was as impotent [powerless] a=
s he
was damp, and he fell forward like a cut flower.
His dogs thinking him out of the way for a tim=
e,
discipline instantly relaxed; and they broke into a bacchanalian [drunken]
dance, which brought him to his feet at once, all traces of human weakness
gone, as if a bucket of water had passed over him.
"Quiet, you scugs," he cried, "=
or
I'll cast anchor in you;" and at once the din was hushed. "Are all
the children chained, so that they cannot fly away?"
"Ay, ay."
"Then hoist them up."
The wretched prisoners were dragged from the h=
old,
all except Wendy, and ranged in line in front of him. For a time he seemed
unconscious of their presence. He lolled at his ease, humming, not
unmelodiously, snatches of a rude song, and fingering a pack of cards. Ever=
and
anon the light from his cigar gave a touch of colour to his face.
"Now then, bullies," he said briskly,
"six of you walk the plank to-night, but I have room for two cabin boy=
s.
Which of you is it to be?"
"Don't irritate him unnecessarily," =
had
been Wendy's instructions in the hold; so Tootles stepped forward politely.
Tootles hated the idea of signing under such a man, but an instinct told him
that it would be prudent to lay the responsibility on an absent person; and
though a somewhat silly boy, he knew that mothers alone are always willing =
to
be the buffer. All children know this about mothers, and despise them for i=
t,
but make constant use of it.
So Tootles explained prudently, "You see,
sir, I don't think my mother would like me to be a pirate. Would your mother
like you to be a pirate, Slightly?"
He winked at Slightly, who said mournfully,
"I don't think so," as if he wished things had been otherwise.
"Would your mother like you to be a pirate, Twin?"
"I don't think so," said the first t=
win,
as clever as the others. "Nibs, would--"
"Stow this gab," roared Hook, and the
spokesmen were dragged back. "You, boy," he said, addressing John,
"you look as if you had a little pluck in you. Didst never want to be a
pirate, my hearty?"
Now John had sometimes experienced this hanker=
ing
at maths. prep.; and he was struck by Hook's picking him out.
"I once thought of calling myself Red-han=
ded
Jack," he said diffidently.
"And a good name too. We'll call you that
here, bully, if you join."
"What do you think, Michael?" asked
John.
"What would you call me if I join?"
Michael demanded.
"Blackbeard Joe."
Michael was naturally impressed. "What do=
you
think, John?" He wanted John to decide, and John wanted him to decide.=
"Shall we still be respectful subjects of=
the
King?" John inquired.
Through Hook's teeth came the answer: "You
would have to swear, 'Down with the King.'"
Perhaps John had not behaved very well so far,=
but
he shone out now.
"Then I refuse," he cried, banging t=
he
barrel in front of Hook.
"And I refuse," cried Michael.
"Rule Britannia!" squeaked Curly.
The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mo=
uth;
and Hook roared out, "That seals your doom. Bring up their mother. Get=
the
plank ready."
They were only boys, and they went white as th=
ey
saw Jukes and Cecco preparing the fatal plank. But they tried to look brave
when Wendy was brought up.
No words of mine can tell you how Wendy despis=
ed
those pirates. To the boys there was at least some glamour in the pirate
calling; but all that she saw was that the ship had not been tidied for yea=
rs.
There was not a porthole on the grimy glass of which you might not have wri=
tten
with your finger "Dirty pig"; and she had already written it on
several. But as the boys gathered round her she had no thought, of course, =
save
for them.
"So, my beauty," said Hook, as if he
spoke in syrup, "you are to see your children walk the plank."
Fine gentlemen though he was, the intensity of=
his
communings had soiled his ruff, and suddenly he knew that she was gazing at=
it.
With a hasty gesture he tried to hide it, but he was too late.
"Are they to die?" asked Wendy, with=
a
look of such frightful contempt that he nearly fainted.
"They are," he snarled. "Silence
all," he called gloatingly, "for a mother's last words to her
children."
At this moment Wendy was grand. "These ar=
e my
last words, dear boys," she said firmly. "I feel that I have a
message to you from your real mothers, and it is this: 'We hope our sons wi=
ll
die like English gentlemen.'"
Even the pirates were awed, and Tootles cried =
out
hysterically, "I am going to do what my mother hopes. What are you to =
do,
Nibs?"
"What my mother hopes. What are you to do,
Twin?"
"What my mother hopes. John, what are--&q=
uot;
But Hook had found his voice again.
"Tie her up!" he shouted.
It was Smee who tied her to the mast. "Se=
e here,
honey," he whispered, "I'll save you if you promise to be my
mother."
But not even for Smee would she make such a
promise. "I would almost rather have no children at all," she said
disdainfully [scornfully].
It is sad to know that not a boy was looking at
her as Smee tied her to the mast; the eyes of all were on the plank: that l=
ast
little walk they were about to take. They were no longer able to hope that =
they
would walk it manfully, for the capacity to think had gone from them; they =
could
stare and shiver only.
Hook smiled on them with his teeth closed, and
took a step toward Wendy. His intention was to turn her face so that she sh=
ould
see the boys walking the plank one by one. But he never reached her, he nev=
er
heard the cry of anguish he hoped to wring from her. He heard something els=
e instead.
It was the terrible tick-tick of the crocodile=
.
They all heard it--pirates, boys, Wendy; and
immediately every head was blown in one direction; not to the water whence =
the
sound proceeded, but toward Hook. All knew that what was about to happen
concerned him alone, and that from being actors they were suddenly become
spectators.
Very frightful was it to see the change that c=
ame
over him. It was as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a lit=
tle heap.
The sound came steadily nearer; and in advance=
of
it came this ghastly thought, "The crocodile is about to board the
ship!"
Even the iron claw hung inactive; as if knowing
that it was no intrinsic part of what the attacking force wanted. Left so f=
earfully
alone, any other man would have lain with his eyes shut where he fell: but =
the gigantic
brain of Hook was still working, and under its guidance he crawled on the k=
nees
along the deck as far from the sound as he could go. The pirates respectful=
ly
cleared a passage for him, and it was only when he brought up against the
bulwarks that he spoke.
"Hide me!" he cried hoarsely.
They gathered round him, all eyes averted from=
the
thing that was coming aboard. They had no thought of fighting it. It was Fa=
te.
Only when Hook was hidden from them did curios=
ity
loosen the limbs of the boys so that they could rush to the ship's side to =
see
the crocodile climbing it. Then they got the strangest surprise of the Nigh=
t of
Nights; for it was no crocodile that was coming to their aid. It was Peter.=
He signed to them not to give vent to any cry =
of
admiration that might rouse suspicion. Then he went on ticking.
Odd things happen to all of us on our way thro=
ugh
life without our noticing for a time that they have happened. Thus, to take=
an
instance, we suddenly discover that we have been deaf in one ear for we don=
't
know how long, but, say, half an hour. Now such an experience had come that=
night
to Peter. When last we saw him he was stealing across the island with one
finger to his lips and his dagger at the ready. He had seen the crocodile p=
ass
by without noticing anything peculiar about it, but by and by he remembered
that it had not been ticking. At first he thought this eerie, but soon
concluded rightly that the clock had run down.
Without giving a thought to what might be the
feelings of a fellow-creature thus abruptly deprived of its closest compani=
on,
Peter began to consider how he could turn the catastrophe to his own use; a=
nd
he decided to tick, so that wild beasts should believe he was the crocodile=
and
let him pass unmolested. He ticked superbly, but with one unforeseen result.
The crocodile was among those who heard the sound, and it followed him, tho=
ugh
whether with the purpose of regaining what it had lost, or merely as a frie=
nd
under the belief that it was again ticking itself, will never be certainly
known, for, like slaves to a fixed idea, it was a stupid beast.
Peter reached the shore without mishap, and we=
nt
straight on, his legs encountering the water as if quite unaware that they =
had
entered a new element. Thus many animals pass from land to water, but no ot=
her
human of whom I know. As he swam he had but one thought: "Hook or me t=
his time."
He had ticked so long that he now went on ticking without knowing that he w=
as
doing it. Had he known he would have stopped, for to board the brig by help=
of
the tick, though an ingenious idea, had not occurred to him.
On the contrary, he thought he had scaled her = side as noiseless as a mouse; and he was amazed to see the pirates cowering from him, with Hook in their midst as abject as if he had heard the crocodile. <= o:p>
The crocodile! No sooner did Peter remember it
than he heard the ticking. At first he thought the sound did come from the
crocodile, and he looked behind him swiftly. Then he realised that he was d=
oing
it himself, and in a flash he understood the situation. "How clever of
me!" he thought at once, and signed to the boys not to burst into
applause.
It was at this moment that Ed Teynte the
quartermaster emerged from the forecastle and came along the deck. Now, rea=
der,
time what happened by your watch. Peter struck true and deep. John clapped =
his
hands on the ill-fated pirate's mouth to stifle the dying groan. He fell fo=
rward.
Four boys caught him to prevent the thud. Peter gave the signal, and the ca=
rrion
was cast overboard. There was a splash, and then silence. How long has it
taken?
"One!" (Slightly had begun to count.=
)
None too soon, Peter, every inch of him on tip=
toe,
vanished into the cabin; for more than one pirate was screwing up his coura=
ge
to look round. They could hear each other's distressed breathing now, which=
showed
them that the more terrible sound had passed.
"It's gone, captain," Smee said, wip=
ing
off his spectacles. "All's still again."
Slowly Hook let his head emerge from his ruff,=
and
listened so intently that he could have caught the echo of the tick. There =
was
not a sound, and he drew himself up firmly to his full height.
"Then here's to Johnny Plank!" he cr=
ied
brazenly, hating the boys more than ever because they had seen him unbend. =
He
broke into the villainous ditty:
"Yo ho, yo ho, the frisky plank, You walks along it so, Till it goes down and you goes down =
To Davy Jones below!"
To terrorize the prisoners the more, though wi=
th a
certain loss of dignity, he danced along an imaginary plank, grimacing at t=
hem
as he sang; and when he finished he cried, "Do you want a touch of the=
cat
[o' nine tails] before you walk the plank?"
At that they fell on their knees. "No,
no!" they cried so piteously that every pirate smiled.
"Fetch the cat, Jukes," said Hook;
"it's in the cabin."
The cabin! Peter was in the cabin! The children
gazed at each other.
"Ay, ay," said Jukes blithely, and he
strode into the cabin. They followed him with their eyes; they scarce knew =
that
Hook had resumed his song, his dogs joining in with him:
"Yo ho, yo ho, the scratching cat, Its tails are nine, you know, And when they're writ upon your back=
--"
What was the last line will never be known, fo=
r of
a sudden the song was stayed by a dreadful screech from the cabin. It wailed
through the ship, and died away. Then was heard a crowing sound which was w=
ell
understood by the boys, but to the pirates was almost more eerie than the
screech.
"What was that?" cried Hook.
"Two," said Slightly solemnly.
The Italian Cecco hesitated for a moment and t=
hen
swung into the cabin. He tottered out, haggard.
"What's the matter with Bill Jukes, you
dog?" hissed Hook, towering over him.
"The matter wi' him is he's dead,
stabbed," replied Cecco in a hollow voice.
"Bill Jukes dead!" cried the startled
pirates.
"The cabin's as black as a pit," Cec=
co
said, almost gibbering, "but there is something terrible in there: the
thing you heard crowing."
The exultation of the boys, the lowering looks=
of
the pirates, both were seen by Hook.
"Cecco," he said in his most steely
voice, "go back and fetch me out that doodle-doo."
Cecco, bravest of the brave, cowered before hi=
s captain,
crying "No, no"; but Hook was purring to his claw.
"Did you say you would go, Cecco?" he
said musingly.
Cecco went, first flinging his arms despairing=
ly.
There was no more singing, all listened now; and again came a death-screech=
and
again a crow.
No one spoke except Slightly. "Three,&quo=
t;
he said.
Hook rallied his dogs with a gesture.
"'S'death and odds fish," he thundered, "who is to bring me =
that
doodle-doo?"
"Wait till Cecco comes out," growled
Starkey, and the others took up the cry.
"I think I heard you volunteer,
Starkey," said Hook, purring again.
"No, by thunder!" Starkey cried.
"My hook thinks you did," said Hook,
crossing to him. "I wonder if it would not be advisable, Starkey, to
humour the hook?"
"I'll swing before I go in there," r=
eplied
Starkey doggedly, and again he had the support of the crew.
"Is this mutiny?" asked Hook more
pleasantly than ever. "Starkey's ringleader!"
"Captain, mercy!" Starkey whimpered,=
all
of a tremble now.
"Shake hands, Starkey," said Hook,
proffering his claw.
Starkey looked round for help, but all deserted
him. As he backed up Hook advanced, and now the red spark was in his eye. W=
ith
a despairing scream the pirate leapt upon Long Tom and precipitated himself
into the sea.
"Four," said Slightly.
"And now," Hook said courteously,
"did any other gentlemen say mutiny?" Seizing a lantern and raisi=
ng
his claw with a menacing gesture, "I'll bring out that doodle-doo
myself," he said, and sped into the cabin.
"Five." How Slightly longed to say i=
t.
He wetted his lips to be ready, but Hook came staggering out, without his
lantern.
"Something blew out the light," he s=
aid
a little unsteadily.
"Something!" echoed Mullins.
"What of Cecco?" demanded Noodler. <= o:p>
"He's as dead as Jukes," said Hook
shortly.
His reluctance to return to the cabin impressed
them all unfavourably, and the mutinous sounds again broke forth. All pirat=
es
are superstitious, and Cookson cried, "They do say the surest sign a
ship's accurst is when there's one on board more than can be accounted
for."
"I've heard," muttered Mullins, &quo=
t;he
always boards the pirate craft last. Had he a tail, captain?"
"They say," said another, looking
viciously at Hook, "that when he comes it's in the likeness of the
wickedest man aboard."
"Had he a hook, captain?" asked Cook=
son
insolently; and one after another took up the cry, "The ship's
doomed!" At this the children could not resist raising a cheer. Hook h=
ad
well-nigh forgotten his prisoners, but as he swung round on them now his fa=
ce
lit up again.
"Lads," he cried to his crew, "=
now
here's a notion. Open the cabin door and drive them in. Let them fight the
doodle-doo for their lives. If they kill him, we're so much the better; if =
he
kills them, we're none the worse."
For the last time his dogs admired Hook, and
devotedly they did his bidding. The boys, pretending to struggle, were push=
ed
into the cabin and the door was closed on them.
"Now, listen!" cried Hook, and all
listened. But not one dared to face the door. Yes, one, Wendy, who all this
time had been bound to the mast. It was for neither a scream nor a crow that
she was watching, it was for the reappearance of Peter.
She had not long to wait. In the cabin he had
found the thing for which he had gone in search: the key that would free the
children of their manacles, and now they all stole forth, armed with such
weapons as they could find. First signing them to hide, Peter cut Wendy's
bonds, and then nothing could have been easier than for them all to fly off=
together;
but one thing barred the way, an oath, "Hook or me this time." So
when he had freed Wendy, he whispered for her to conceal herself with the
others, and himself took her place by the mast, her cloak around him so tha=
t he
should pass for her. Then he took a great breath and crowed.
To the pirates it was a voice crying that all = the boys lay slain in the cabin; and they were panic-stricken. Hook tried to hearten them; but like the dogs he had made them they showed him their fang= s, and he knew that if he took his eyes off them now they would leap at him. <= o:p>
"Lads," he said, ready to cajole or
strike as need be, but never quailing for an instant, "I've thought it
out. There's a Jonah aboard."
"Ay," they snarled, "a man wi' a
hook."
"No, lads, no, it's the girl. Never was l=
uck
on a pirate ship wi' a woman on board. We'll right the ship when she's
gone."
Some of them remembered that this had been a
saying of Flint's. "It's worth trying," they said doubtfully.
"Fling the girl overboard," cried Ho=
ok;
and they made a rush at the figure in the cloak.
"There's none can save you now, missy,&qu=
ot;
Mullins hissed jeeringly.
"There's one," replied the figure. <= o:p>
"Who's that?"
"Peter Pan the avenger!" came the
terrible answer; and as he spoke Peter flung off his cloak. Then they all k=
new
who 'twas that had been undoing them in the cabin, and twice Hook essayed to
speak and twice he failed. In that frightful moment I think his fierce heart
broke.
At last he cried, "Cleave him to the
brisket!" but without conviction.
"Down, boys, and at them!" Peter's v=
oice
rang out; and in another moment the clash of arms was resounding through the
ship. Had the pirates kept together it is certain that they would have won;=
but
the onset came when they were still unstrung, and they ran hither and thith=
er,
striking wildly, each thinking himself the last survivor of the crew. Man to
man they were the stronger; but they fought on the defensive only, which en=
abled
the boys to hunt in pairs and choose their quarry. Some of the miscreants l=
eapt
into the sea; others hid in dark recesses, where they were found by Slightl=
y,
who did not fight, but ran about with a lantern which he flashed in their
faces, so that they were half blinded and fell as an easy prey to the reeki=
ng
swords of the other boys. There was little sound to be heard but the clang =
of
weapons, an occasional screech or splash, and Slightly monotonously
counting--five--six--seven eight--nine--ten--eleven.
I think all were gone when a group of savage b=
oys
surrounded Hook, who seemed to have a charmed life, as he kept them at bay =
in
that circle of fire. They had done for his dogs, but this man alone seemed =
to
be a match for them all. Again and again they closed upon him, and again an=
d again
he hewed a clear space. He had lifted up one boy with his hook, and was usi=
ng
him as a buckler [shield], when another, who had just passed his sword thro=
ugh
Mullins, sprang into the fray.
"Put up your swords, boys," cried the
newcomer, "this man is mine."
Thus suddenly Hook found himself face to face =
with
Peter. The others drew back and formed a ring around them.
For long the two enemies looked at one another, Hook shuddering slightly, and Peter with the strange smile upon his face. <= o:p>
"So, Pan," said Hook at last, "=
this
is all your doing."
"Ay, James Hook," came the stern ans=
wer,
"it is all my doing."
"Proud and insolent youth," said Hoo=
k,
"prepare to meet thy doom."
"Dark and sinister man," Peter answe=
red,
"have at thee."
Without more words they fell to, and for a spa=
ce
there was no advantage to either blade. Peter was a superb swordsman, and p=
arried
with dazzling rapidity; ever and anon he followed up a feint with a lunge t=
hat
got past his foe's defence, but his shorter reach stood him in ill stead, a=
nd
he could not drive the steel home. Hook, scarcely his inferior in brillianc=
y,
but not quite so nimble in wrist play, forced him back by the weight of his
onset, hoping suddenly to end all with a favourite thrust, taught him long =
ago
by Barbecue at Rio; but to his astonishment he found this thrust turned asi=
de
again and again. Then he sought to close and give the quietus with his iron
hook, which all this time had been pawing the air; but Peter doubled under =
it
and, lunging fiercely, pierced him in the ribs. At the sight of his own blo=
od,
whose peculiar colour, you remember, was offensive to him, the sword fell f=
rom
Hook's hand, and he was at Peter's mercy.
"Now!" cried all the boys, but with a magnificent gesture Peter invited his opponent to pick up his sword. Hook d= id so instantly, but with a tragic feeling that Peter was showing good form. <= o:p>
Hitherto he had thought it was some fiend figh=
ting
him, but darker suspicions assailed him now.
"Pan, who and what art thou?" he cri=
ed
huskily.
"I'm youth, I'm joy," Peter answered=
at
a venture, "I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg."
This, of course, was nonsense; but it was proo=
f to
the unhappy Hook that Peter did not know in the least who or what he was, w=
hich
is the very pinnacle of good form.
"To't again," he cried despairingly.=
He fought now like a human flail, and every sw= eep of that terrible sword would have severed in twain any man or boy who obstructed it; but Peter fluttered round him as if the very wind it made bl= ew him out of the danger zone. And again and again he darted in and pricked. <= o:p>
Hook was fighting now without hope. That passi=
onate
breast no longer asked for life; but for one boon it craved: to see Peter s=
how
bad form before it was cold forever.
Abandoning the fight he rushed into the powder
magazine and fired it.
"In two minutes," he cried, "the
ship will be blown to pieces."
Now, now, he thought, true form will show.
But Peter issued from the powder magazine with=
the
shell in his hands, and calmly flung it overboard.
What sort of form was Hook himself showing?
Misguided man though he was, we may be glad, without sympathising with him,
that in the end he was true to the traditions of his race. The other boys w=
ere
flying around him now, flouting, scornful; and he staggered about the deck
striking up at them impotently, his mind was no longer with them; it was
slouching in the playing fields of long ago, or being sent up [to the
headmaster] for good, or watching the wall-game from a famous wall. And his
shoes were right, and his waistcoat was right, and his tie was right, and h=
is socks
were right.
James Hook, thou not wholly unheroic figure,
farewell.
For we have come to his last moment.
Seeing Peter slowly advancing upon him through=
the
air with dagger poised, he sprang upon the bulwarks to cast himself into the
sea. He did not know that the crocodile was waiting for him; for we purpose=
ly stopped
the clock that this knowledge might be spared him: a little mark of respect
from us at the end.
He had one last triumph, which I think we need=
not
grudge him. As he stood on the bulwark looking over his shoulder at Peter
gliding through the air, he invited him with a gesture to use his foot. It =
made
Peter kick instead of stab.
At last Hook had got the boon for which he cra=
ved.
"Bad form," he cried jeeringly, and =
went
content to the crocodile.
Thus perished James Hook.
"Seventeen," Slightly sang out; but =
he
was not quite correct in his figures. Fifteen paid the penalty for their cr=
imes
that night; but two reached the shore: Starkey to be captured by the redski=
ns,
who made him nurse for all their papooses, a melancholy come-down for a pir=
ate;
and Smee, who henceforth wandered about the world in his spectacles, making=
a
precarious living by saying he was the only man that Jas. Hook had feared. =
Wendy, of course, had stood by taking no part =
in
the fight, though watching Peter with glistening eyes; but now that all was
over she became prominent again. She praised them equally, and shuddered de=
lightfully
when Michael showed her the place where he had killed one; and then she took
them into Hook's cabin and pointed to his watch which was hanging on a nail=
. It
said "half-past one!"
The lateness of the hour was almost the biggest
thing of all. She got them to bed in the pirates' bunks pretty quickly, you=
may
be sure; all but Peter, who strutted up and down on the deck, until at last=
he fell
asleep by the side of Long Tom. He had one of his dreams that night, and cr=
ied
in his sleep for a long time, and Wendy held him tightly.
By three bells that morning they were all stir=
ring
their stumps [legs]; for there was a big sea running; and Tootles, the bo's=
un,
was among them, with a rope's end in his hand and chewing tobacco. They all
donned pirate clothes cut off at the knee, shaved smartly, and tumbled up, =
with
the true nautical roll and hitching their trousers.
It need not be said who was the captain. Nibs =
and
John were first and second mate. There was a woman aboard. The rest were ta=
rs
[sailors] before the mast, and lived in the fo'c'sle. Peter had already las=
hed himself
to the wheel; but he piped all hands and delivered a short address to them;
said he hoped they would do their duty like gallant hearties, but that he k=
new
they were the scum of Rio and the Gold Coast, and if they snapped at him he
would tear them. The bluff strident words struck the note sailors understoo=
d,
and they cheered him lustily. Then a few sharp orders were given, and they
turned the ship round, and nosed her for the mainland.
Captain Pan calculated, after consulting the
ship's chart, that if this weather lasted they should strike the Azores abo=
ut
the 21st of June, after which it would save time to fly.
Some of them wanted it to be an honest ship and
others were in favour of keeping it a pirate; but the captain treated them =
as
dogs, and they dared not express their wishes to him even in a round robin =
[one
person after another, as they had to Cpt. Hook]. Instant obedience was the =
only
safe thing. Slightly got a dozen for looking perplexed when told to take so=
undings.
The general feeling was that Peter was honest just now to lull Wendy's susp=
icions,
but that there might be a change when the new suit was ready, which, against
her will, she was making for him out of some of Hook's wickedest garments. =
It
was afterwards whispered among them that on the first night he wore this su=
it
he sat long in the cabin with Hook's cigar-holder in his mouth and one hand
clenched, all but for the forefinger, which he bent and held threateningly
aloft like a hook.
Instead of watching the ship, however, we must=
now
return to that desolate home from which three of our characters had taken
heartless flight so long ago. It seems a shame to have neglected No. 14 all
this time; and yet we may be sure that Mrs. Darling does not blame us. If w=
e had
returned sooner to look with sorrowful sympathy at her, she would probably =
have
cried, "Don't be silly; what do I matter? Do go back and keep an eye on
the children." So long as mothers are like this their children will ta=
ke
advantage of them; and they may lay to [bet on] that.
Even now we venture into that familiar nursery=
only
because its lawful occupants are on their way home; we are merely hurrying =
on
in advance of them to see that their beds are properly aired and that Mr. a=
nd
Mrs. Darling do not go out for the evening. We are no more than servants. W=
hy on
earth should their beds be properly aired, seeing that they left them in su=
ch a
thankless hurry? Would it not serve them jolly well right if they came back=
and
found that their parents were spending the week-end in the country? It woul=
d be
the moral lesson they have been in need of ever since we met them; but if we
contrived things in this way Mrs. Darling would never forgive us.
One thing I should like to do immensely, and t= hat is to tell her, in the way authors have, that the children are coming back, that indeed they will be here on Thursday week. This would spoil so complet= ely the surprise to which Wendy and John and Michael are looking forward. They = have been planning it out on the ship: mother's rapture, father's shout of joy, Nana's leap through the air to embrace them first, when what they ought to = be prepared for is a good hiding. How delicious to spoil it all by breaking the news in advance; so that when they enter grandly Mrs. Darling may not even offer Wendy her mouth, and Mr. Darling may exclaim pettishly, "Dash it all, here are those boys again." However, we should get no thanks even= for this. We are beginning to know Mrs. Darling by this time, and may be sure t= hat she would upbraid us for depriving the children of their little pleasure. <= o:p>
"But, my dear madam, it is ten days till
Thursday week; so that by telling you what's what, we can save you ten days=
of
unhappiness."
"Yes, but at what a cost! By depriving the
children of ten minutes of delight."
"Oh, if you look at it in that way!"=
"What other way is there in which to look=
at
it?"
You see, the woman had no proper spirit. I had
meant to say extraordinarily nice things about her; but I despise her, and =
not
one of them will I say now. She does not really need to be told to have thi=
ngs ready,
for they are ready. All the beds are aired, and she never leaves the house,=
and
observe, the window is open. For all the use we are to her, we might well go
back to the ship. However, as we are here we may as well stay and look on. =
That
is all we are, lookers-on. Nobody really wants us. So let us watch and say
jaggy things, in the hope that some of them will hurt.
The only change to be seen in the night-nurser=
y is
that between nine and six the kennel is no longer there. When the children =
flew
away, Mr. Darling felt in his bones that all the blame was his for having
chained Nana up, and that from first to last she had been wiser than he. Of=
course,
as we have seen, he was quite a simple man; indeed he might have passed for=
a
boy again if he had been able to take his baldness off; but he had also a n=
oble
sense of justice and a lion's courage to do what seemed right to him; and
having thought the matter out with anxious care after the flight of the
children, he went down on all fours and crawled into the kennel. To all Mrs=
. Darling's
dear invitations to him to come out he replied sadly but firmly:
"No, my own one, this is the place for
me."
In the bitterness of his remorse he swore that=
he
would never leave the kennel until his children came back. Of course this w=
as a
pity; but whatever Mr. Darling did he had to do in excess, otherwise he soon
gave up doing it. And there never was a more humble man than the once proud=
George
Darling, as he sat in the kennel of an evening talking with his wife of the=
ir
children and all their pretty ways.
Very touching was his deference to Nana. He wo=
uld
not let her come into the kennel, but on all other matters he followed her
wishes implicitly.
Every morning the kennel was carried with Mr.
Darling in it to a cab, which conveyed him to his office, and he returned h=
ome
in the same way at six. Something of the strength of character of the man w=
ill
be seen if we remember how sensitive he was to the opinion of neighbours: t=
his man
whose every movement now attracted surprised attention. Inwardly he must ha=
ve
suffered torture; but he preserved a calm exterior even when the young
criticised his little home, and he always lifted his hat courteously to any
lady who looked inside.
It may have been Quixotic, but it was magnific=
ent.
Soon the inward meaning of it leaked out, and the great heart of the public=
was
touched. Crowds followed the cab, cheering it lustily; charming girls scale=
d it
to get his autograph; interviews appeared in the better class of papers, and
society invited him to dinner and added, "Do come in the kennel."=
On that eventful Thursday week, Mrs. Darling w=
as
in the night-nursery awaiting George's return home; a very sad-eyed woman. =
Now
that we look at her closely and remember the gaiety of her in the old days,=
all
gone now just because she has lost her babes, I find I won't be able to say=
nasty
things about her after all. If she was too fond of her rubbishy children, s=
he
couldn't help it. Look at her in her chair, where she has fallen asleep. The
corner of her mouth, where one looks first, is almost withered up. Her hand
moves restlessly on her breast as if she had a pain there. Some like Peter
best, and some like Wendy best, but I like her best. Suppose, to make her
happy, we whisper to her in her sleep that the brats are coming back. They =
are
really within two miles of the window now, and flying strong, but all we ne=
ed
whisper is that they are on the way. Let's.
It is a pity we did it, for she has started up,
calling their names; and there is no one in the room but Nana.
"O Nana, I dreamt my dear ones had come
back."
Nana had filmy eyes, but all she could do was =
put
her paw gently on her mistress's lap; and they were sitting together thus w=
hen
the kennel was brought back. As Mr. Darling puts his head out to kiss his w=
ife,
we see that his face is more worn than of yore, but has a softer expression=
.
He gave his hat to Liza, who took it scornfull=
y;
for she had no imagination, and was quite incapable of understanding the
motives of such a man. Outside, the crowd who had accompanied the cab home =
were
still cheering, and he was naturally not unmoved.
"Listen to them," he said; "it =
is
very gratifying."
"Lots of little boys," sneered Liza.=
"There were several adults to-day," =
he
assured her with a faint flush; but when she tossed her head he had not a w=
ord
of reproof for her. Social success had not spoilt him; it had made him swee=
ter.
For some time he sat with his head out of the kennel, talking with Mrs. Dar=
ling
of this success, and pressing her hand reassuringly when she said she hoped=
his
head would not be turned by it.
"But if I had been a weak man," he s=
aid.
"Good heavens, if I had been a weak man!"
"And, George," she said timidly,
"you are as full of remorse as ever, aren't you?"
"Full of remorse as ever, dearest! See my
punishment: living in a kennel."
"But it is punishment, isn't it, George? =
You
are sure you are not enjoying it?"
"My love!"
You may be sure she begged his pardon; and the=
n,
feeling drowsy, he curled round in the kennel.
"Won't you play me to sleep," he ask=
ed,
"on the nursery piano?" and as she was crossing to the day-nurser=
y he
added thoughtlessly, "And shut that window. I feel a draught."
"O George, never ask me to do that. The
window must always be left open for them, always, always."
Now it was his turn to beg her pardon; and she
went into the day-nursery and played, and soon he was asleep; and while he
slept, Wendy and John and Michael flew into the room.
Oh no. We have written it so, because that was=
the
charming arrangement planned by them before we left the ship; but something
must have happened since then, for it is not they who have flown in, it is
Peter and Tinker Bell.
Peter's first words tell all.
"Quick Tink," he whispered, "cl=
ose
the window; bar it! That's right. Now you and I must get away by the door; =
and
when Wendy comes she will think her mother has barred her out; and she will
have to go back with me."
Now I understand what had hitherto puzzled me,=
why
when Peter had exterminated the pirates he did not return to the island and
leave Tink to escort the children to the mainland. This trick had been in h=
is
head all the time.
Instead of feeling that he was behaving badly =
he
danced with glee; then he peeped into the day-nursery to see who was playin=
g.
He whispered to Tink, "It's Wendy's mother! She is a pretty lady, but =
not
so pretty as my mother. Her mouth is full of thimbles, but not so full as my
mother's was."
Of course he knew nothing whatever about his
mother; but he sometimes bragged about her.
He did not know the tune, which was "Home,
Sweet Home," but he knew it was saying, "Come back, Wendy, Wendy,
Wendy"; and he cried exultantly, "You will never see Wendy again,
lady, for the window is barred!"
He peeped in again to see why the music had
stopped, and now he saw that Mrs. Darling had laid her head on the box, and
that two tears were sitting on her eyes.
"She wants me to unbar the window,"
thought Peter, "but I won't, not I!"
He peeped again, and the tears were still ther=
e,
or another two had taken their place.
"She's awfully fond of Wendy," he sa=
id
to himself. He was angry with her now for not seeing why she could not have
Wendy.
The reason was so simple: "I'm fond of her
too. We can't both have her, lady."
But the lady would not make the best of it, an=
d he
was unhappy. He ceased to look at her, but even then she would not let go of
him. He skipped about and made funny faces, but when he stopped it was just=
as if
she were inside him, knocking.
"Oh, all right," he said at last, and
gulped. Then he unbarred the window. "Come on, Tink," he cried, w=
ith
a frightful sneer at the laws of nature; "we don't want any silly
mothers;" and he flew away.
Thus Wendy and John and Michael found the wind=
ow
open for them after all, which of course was more than they deserved. They
alighted on the floor, quite unashamed of themselves, and the youngest one =
had
already forgotten his home.
"John," he said, looking around him
doubtfully, "I think I have been here before."
"Of course you have, you silly. There is =
your
old bed."
"So it is," Michael said, but not wi=
th
much conviction.
"I say," cried John, "the
kennel!" and he dashed across to look into it.
"Perhaps Nana is inside it," Wendy s=
aid.
But John whistled. "Hullo," he said,
"there's a man inside it."
"It's father!" exclaimed Wendy.
"Let me see father," Michael begged
eagerly, and he took a good look. "He is not so big as the pirate I
killed," he said with such frank disappointment that I am glad Mr. Dar=
ling
was asleep; it would have been sad if those had been the first words he hea=
rd
his little Michael say.
Wendy and John had been taken aback somewhat at
finding their father in the kennel.
"Surely," said John, like one who had lost faith in his memory, "he used not to sleep in the kennel?" <= o:p>
"John," Wendy said falteringly,
"perhaps we don't remember the old life as well as we thought we
did."
A chill fell upon them; and serve them right. =
"It is very careless of mother," said
that young scoundrel John, "not to be here when we come back."
It was then that Mrs. Darling began playing ag=
ain.
"It's mother!" cried Wendy, peeping.=
"So it is!" said John.
"Then are you not really our mother,
Wendy?" asked Michael, who was surely sleepy.
"Oh dear!" exclaimed Wendy, with her
first real twinge of remorse [for having gone], "it was quite time we =
came
back."
"Let us creep in," John suggested,
"and put our hands over her eyes."
But Wendy, who saw that they must break the jo=
yous
news more gently, had a better plan.
"Let us all slip into our beds, and be th=
ere
when she comes in, just as if we had never been away."
And so when Mrs. Darling went back to the
night-nursery to see if her husband was asleep, all the beds were occupied.=
The
children waited for her cry of joy, but it did not come. She saw them, but =
she
did not believe they were there. You see, she saw them in their beds so oft=
en
in her dreams that she thought this was just the dream hanging around her s=
till.
She sat down in the chair by the fire, where in
the old days she had nursed them.
They could not understand this, and a cold fear
fell upon all the three of them.
"Mother!" Wendy cried.
"That's Wendy," she said, but still =
she
was sure it was the dream.
"Mother!"
"That's John," she said.
"Mother!" cried Michael. He knew her
now.
"That's Michael," she said, and she
stretched out her arms for the three little selfish children they would nev=
er
envelop again. Yes, they did, they went round Wendy and John and Michael, w=
ho
had slipped out of bed and run to her.
"George, George!" she cried when she
could speak; and Mr. Darling woke to share her bliss, and Nana came rushing=
in.
There could not have been a lovelier sight; but there was none to see it ex=
cept
a little boy who was staring in at the window. He had had ecstasies innumer=
able
that other children can never know; but he was looking through the window a=
t the
one joy from which he must be for ever barred.
I hope you want to know what became of the oth= er boys. They were waiting below to give Wendy time to explain about them; and when they had counted five hundred they went up. They went up by the stair, because they thought this would make a better impression. They stood in a r= ow in front of Mrs. Darling, with their hats off, and wishing they were not weari= ng their pirate clothes. They said nothing, but their eyes asked her to have t= hem. They ought to have looked at Mr. Darling also, but they forgot about him. <= o:p>
Of course Mrs. Darling said at once that she w=
ould
have them; but Mr. Darling was curiously depressed, and they saw that he
considered six a rather large number.
"I must say," he said to Wendy,
"that you don't do things by halves," a grudging remark which the
twins thought was pointed at them.
The first twin was the proud one, and he asked,
flushing, "Do you think we should be too much of a handful, sir? Becau=
se,
if so, we can go away."
"Father!" Wendy cried, shocked; but
still the cloud was on him. He knew he was behaving unworthily, but he could
not help it.
"We could lie doubled up," said Nibs=
.
"I always cut their hair myself," sa=
id
Wendy.
"George!" Mrs. Darling exclaimed, pa=
ined
to see her dear one showing himself in such an unfavourable light.
Then he burst into tears, and the truth came o=
ut.
He was as glad to have them as she was, he said, but he thought they should
have asked his consent as well as hers, instead of treating him as a cypher
[zero] in his own house.
"I don't think he is a cypher," Toot=
les
cried instantly. "Do you think he is a cypher, Curly?"
"No, I don't. Do you think he is a cypher,
Slightly?"
"Rather not. Twin, what do you think?&quo=
t;
It turned out that not one of them thought him=
a
cypher; and he was absurdly gratified, and said he would find space for them
all in the drawing-room if they fitted in.
"We'll fit in, sir," they assured hi=
m.
"Then follow the leader," he cried
gaily. "Mind you, I am not sure that we have a drawing-room, but we
pretend we have, and it's all the same. Hoop la!"
He went off dancing through the house, and they
all cried "Hoop la!" and danced after him, searching for the
drawing-room; and I forget whether they found it, but at any rate they found
corners, and they all fitted in.
As for Peter, he saw Wendy once again before he
flew away. He did not exactly come to the window, but he brushed against it=
in
passing so that she could open it if she liked and call to him. That is what
she did.
"Hullo, Wendy, good-bye," he said. <= o:p>
"Oh dear, are you going away?"
"Yes."
"You don't feel, Peter," she said
falteringly, "that you would like to say anything to my parents about a
very sweet subject?"
"No."
"About me, Peter?"
"No."
Mrs. Darling came to the window, for at present
she was keeping a sharp eye on Wendy. She told Peter that she had adopted a=
ll
the other boys, and would like to adopt him also.
"Would you send me to school?" he
inquired craftily.
"Yes."
"And then to an office?"
"I suppose so."
"Soon I would be a man?"
"Very soon."
"I don't want to go to school and learn
solemn things," he told her passionately. "I don't want to be a m=
an.
O Wendy's mother, if I was to wake up and feel there was a beard!"
"Peter," said Wendy the comforter,
"I should love you in a beard;" and Mrs. Darling stretched out her
arms to him, but he repulsed her.
"Keep back, lady, no one is going to catc=
h me
and make me a man."
"But where are you going to live?" <= o:p>
"With Tink in the house we built for Wend=
y.
The fairies are to put it high up among the tree tops where they sleep at
nights."
"How lovely," cried Wendy so longing=
ly
that Mrs. Darling tightened her grip.
"I thought all the fairies were dead,&quo=
t;
Mrs. Darling said.
"There are always a lot of young ones,&qu=
ot;
explained Wendy, who was now quite an authority, "because you see when=
a
new baby laughs for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there are al=
ways
new babies there are always new fairies. They live in nests on the tops of
trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the bl=
ue
ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are."
"I shall have such fun," said Peter,
with eye on Wendy.
"It will be rather lonely in the
evening," she said, "sitting by the fire."
"I shall have Tink."
"Tink can't go a twentieth part of the way
round," she reminded him a little tartly.
"Sneaky tell-tale!" Tink called out =
from
somewhere round the corner.
"It doesn't matter," Peter said.
"O Peter, you know it matters."
"Well, then, come with me to the little
house."
"May I, mummy?"
"Certainly not. I have got you home again,
and I mean to keep you."
"But he does so need a mother."
"So do you, my love."
"Oh, all right," Peter said, as if he
had asked her from politeness merely; but Mrs. Darling saw his mouth twitch,
and she made this handsome offer: to let Wendy go to him for a week every y=
ear
to do his spring cleaning. Wendy would have preferred a more permanent arra=
ngement;
and it seemed to her that spring would be long in coming; but this promise =
sent
Peter away quite gay again. He had no sense of time, and was so full of
adventures that all I have told you about him is only a halfpenny-worth of
them. I suppose it was because Wendy knew this that her last words to him w=
ere
these rather plaintive ones:
"You won't forget me, Peter, will you, be=
fore
spring cleaning time comes?"
Of course Peter promised; and then he flew awa=
y.
He took Mrs. Darling's kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one els=
e, Peter
took quite easily. Funny. But she seemed satisfied.
Of course all the boys went to school; and mos=
t of
them got into Class III, but Slightly was put first into Class IV and then =
into
Class V. Class I is the top class. Before they had attended school a week t=
hey saw
what goats they had been not to remain on the island; but it was too late n=
ow,
and soon they settled down to being as ordinary as you or me or Jenkins min=
or
[the younger Jenkins]. It is sad to have to say that the power to fly gradu=
ally
left them. At first Nana tied their feet to the bed-posts so that they shou=
ld
not fly away in the night; and one of their diversions by day was to preten=
d to
fall off buses [the English double-deckers]; but by and by they ceased to t=
ug
at their bonds in bed, and found that they hurt themselves when they let go=
of
the bus. In time they could not even fly after their hats. Want of practice,
they called it; but what it really meant was that they no longer believed. =
Michael believed longer than the other boys, t=
hough
they jeered at him; so he was with Wendy when Peter came for her at the end=
of
the first year. She flew away with Peter in the frock she had woven from le=
aves
and berries in the Neverland, and her one fear was that he might notice how
short it had become; but he never noticed, he had so much to say about hims=
elf.
She had looked forward to thrilling talks with=
him
about old times, but new adventures had crowded the old ones from his mind.=
"Who is Captain Hook?" he asked with
interest when she spoke of the arch enemy.
"Don't you remember," she asked, ama=
zed,
"how you killed him and saved all our lives?"
"I forget them after I kill them," he
replied carelessly.
When she expressed a doubtful hope that Tinker
Bell would be glad to see her he said, "Who is Tinker Bell?"
"O Peter," she said, shocked; but ev=
en
when she explained he could not remember.
"There are such a lot of them," he s=
aid.
"I expect she is no more."
I expect he was right, for fairies don't live
long, but they are so little that a short time seems a good while to them. =
Wendy was pained too to find that the past year
was but as yesterday to Peter; it had seemed such a long year of waiting to
her. But he was exactly as fascinating as ever, and they had a lovely spring
cleaning in the little house on the tree tops.
Next year he did not come for her. She waited =
in a
new frock because the old one simply would not meet; but he never came.
"Perhaps he is ill," Michael said. <= o:p>
"You know he is never ill."
Michael came close to her and whispered, with a
shiver, "Perhaps there is no such person, Wendy!" and then Wendy
would have cried if Michael had not been crying.
Peter came next spring cleaning; and the stran=
ge
thing was that he never knew he had missed a year.
That was the last time the girl Wendy ever saw
him. For a little longer she tried for his sake not to have growing pains; =
and
she felt she was untrue to him when she got a prize for general knowledge. =
But
the years came and went without bringing the careless boy; and when they met
again Wendy was a married woman, and Peter was no more to her than a little=
dust
in the box in which she had kept her toys. Wendy was grown up. You need not=
be
sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she
grew up of her own free will a day quicker than other girls.
All the boys were grown up and done for by this
time; so it is scarcely worth while saying anything more about them. You may
see the twins and Nibs and Curly any day going to an office, each carrying a
little bag and an umbrella. Michael is an engine-driver [train engineer].
Slightly married a lady of title, and so he became a lord. You see that jud=
ge
in a wig coming out at the iron door? That used to be Tootles. The bearded =
man
who doesn't know any story to tell his children was once John.
Wendy was married in white with a pink sash. I=
t is
strange to think that Peter did not alight in the church and forbid the ban=
ns
[formal announcement of a marriage].
Years rolled on again, and Wendy had a daughte=
r.
This ought not to be written in ink but in a golden splash.
She was called Jane, and always had an odd
inquiring look, as if from the moment she arrived on the mainland she wante=
d to
ask questions. When she was old enough to ask them they were mostly about P=
eter
Pan. She loved to hear of Peter, and Wendy told her all she could remember =
in
the very nursery from which the famous flight had taken place. It was Jane's
nursery now, for her father had bought it at the three per cents [mortgage
rate] from Wendy's father, who was no longer fond of stairs. Mrs. Darling w=
as
now dead and forgotten.
There were only two beds in the nursery now,
Jane's and her nurse's; and there was no kennel, for Nana also had passed a=
way.
She died of old age, and at the end she had been rather difficult to get on
with; being very firmly convinced that no one knew how to look after childr=
en
except herself.
Once a week Jane's nurse had her evening off; =
and
then it was Wendy's part to put Jane to bed. That was the time for stories.=
It
was Jane's invention to raise the sheet over her mother's head and her own,
thus making a tent, and in the awful darkness to whisper:
"What do we see now?"
"I don't think I see anything to-night,&q=
uot;
says Wendy, with a feeling that if Nana were here she would object to furth=
er
conversation.
"Yes, you do," says Jane, "you =
see
when you were a little girl."
"That is a long time ago, sweetheart,&quo=
t;
says Wendy. "Ah me, how time flies!"
"Does it fly," asks the artful child,
"the way you flew when you were a little girl?"
"The way I flew? Do you know, Jane, I
sometimes wonder whether I ever did really fly."
"Yes, you did."
"The dear old days when I could fly!"=
;
"Why can't you fly now, mother?"
"Because I am grown up, dearest. When peo=
ple
grow up they forget the way."
"Why do they forget the way?"
"Because they are no longer gay and innoc=
ent
and heartless. It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly.&q=
uot;
"What is gay and innocent and heartless? =
I do
wish I were gay and innocent and heartless."
Or perhaps Wendy admits she does see something=
.
"I do believe," she says, "that=
it
is this nursery."
"I do believe it is," says Jane.
"Go on."
They are now embarked on the great adventure of
the night when Peter flew in looking for his shadow.
"The foolish fellow," says Wendy,
"tried to stick it on with soap, and when he could not he cried, and t=
hat
woke me, and I sewed it on for him."
"You have missed a bit," interrupts
Jane, who now knows the story better than her mother. "When you saw him
sitting on the floor crying, what did you say?"
"I sat up in bed and I said, 'Boy, why are
you crying?'"
"Yes, that was it," says Jane, with a
big breath.
"And then he flew us all away to the
Neverland and the fairies and the pirates and the redskins and the mermaid's
lagoon, and the home under the ground, and the little house."
"Yes! which did you like best of all?&quo=
t;
"I think I liked the home under the ground
best of all."
"Yes, so do I. What was the last thing Pe=
ter
ever said to you?"
"The last thing he ever said to me was, '=
Just
always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing.'&qu=
ot;
"Yes."
"But, alas, he forgot all about me,"
Wendy said it with a smile. She was as grown up as that.
"What did his crow sound like?" Jane
asked one evening.
"It was like this," Wendy said, tryi=
ng
to imitate Peter's crow.
"No, it wasn't," Jane said gravely,
"it was like this;" and she did it ever so much better than her
mother.
Wendy was a little startled. "My darling,=
how
can you know?"
"I often hear it when I am sleeping,"
Jane said.
"Ah yes, many girls hear it when they are
sleeping, but I was the only one who heard it awake."
"Lucky you," said Jane.
And then one night came the tragedy. It was the
spring of the year, and the story had been told for the night, and Jane was=
now
asleep in her bed. Wendy was sitting on the floor, very close to the fire, =
so
as to see to darn, for there was no other light in the nursery; and while s=
he sat
darning she heard a crow. Then the window blew open as of old, and Peter
dropped in on the floor.
He was exactly the same as ever, and Wendy saw=
at
once that he still had all his first teeth.
He was a little boy, and she was grown up. She huddled by the fire not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman. <= o:p>
"Hullo, Wendy," he said, not noticing
any difference, for he was thinking chiefly of himself; and in the dim light
her white dress might have been the nightgown in which he had seen her firs=
t.
"Hullo, Peter," she replied faintly,
squeezing herself as small as possible. Something inside her was crying
"Woman, Woman, let go of me."
"Hullo, where is John?" he asked,
suddenly missing the third bed.
"John is not here now," she gasped. =
"Is Michael asleep?" he asked, with a
careless glance at Jane.
"Yes," she answered; and now she felt
that she was untrue to Jane as well as to Peter.
"That is not Michael," she said quic=
kly,
lest a judgment should fall on her.
Peter looked. "Hullo, is it a new one?&qu=
ot;
"Yes."
"Boy or girl?"
"Girl."
Now surely he would understand; but not a bit =
of
it.
"Peter," she said, faltering, "=
are
you expecting me to fly away with you?"
"Of course; that is why I have come."=
; He
added a little sternly, "Have you forgotten that this is spring cleani=
ng
time?"
She knew it was useless to say that he had let
many spring cleaning times pass.
"I can't come," she said apologetica=
lly,
"I have forgotten how to fly."
"I'll soon teach you again."
"O Peter, don't waste the fairy dust on
me."
She had risen; and now at last a fear assailed
him. "What is it?" he cried, shrinking.
"I will turn up the light," she said,
"and then you can see for yourself."
For almost the only time in his life that I kn=
ow
of, Peter was afraid. "Don't turn up the light," he cried.
She let her hands play in the hair of the trag=
ic
boy. She was not a little girl heart-broken about him; she was a grown woman
smiling at it all, but they were wet eyed smiles.
Then she turned up the light, and Peter saw. He
gave a cry of pain; and when the tall beautiful creature stooped to lift hi=
m in
her arms he drew back sharply.
"What is it?" he cried again.
She had to tell him.
"I am old, Peter. I am ever so much more =
than
twenty. I grew up long ago."
"You promised not to!"
"I couldn't help it. I am a married woman,
Peter."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, and the little girl in the bed is my
baby."
"No, she's not."
But he supposed she was; and he took a step
towards the sleeping child with his dagger upraised. Of course he did not
strike. He sat down on the floor instead and sobbed; and Wendy did not know=
how
to comfort him, though she could have done it so easily once. She was only a
woman now, and she ran out of the room to try to think.
Peter continued to cry, and soon his sobs woke
Jane. She sat up in bed, and was interested at once.
"Boy," she said, "why are you c=
rying?"
Peter rose and bowed to her, and she bowed to =
him
from the bed.
"Hullo," he said.
"Hullo," said Jane.
"My name is Peter Pan," he told her.=
"Yes, I know."
"I came back for my mother," he
explained, "to take her to the Neverland."
"Yes, I know," Jane said, "I ha=
ve
been waiting for you."
When Wendy returned diffidently she found Peter
sitting on the bed-post crowing gloriously, while Jane in her nighty was fl=
ying
round the room in solemn ecstasy.
"She is my mother," Peter explained;=
and
Jane descended and stood by his side, with the look in her face that he lik=
ed
to see on ladies when they gazed at him.
"He does so need a mother," Jane sai=
d.
"Yes, I know." Wendy admitted rather
forlornly; "no one knows it so well as I."
"Good-bye," said Peter to Wendy; and=
he
rose in the air, and the shameless Jane rose with him; it was already her
easiest way of moving about.
Wendy rushed to the window.
"No, no," she cried.
"It is just for spring cleaning time,&quo=
t;
Jane said, "he wants me always to do his spring cleaning."
"If only I could go with you," Wendy
sighed.
"You see you can't fly," said Jane. =
Of course in the end Wendy let them fly away
together. Our last glimpse of her shows her at the window, watching them
receding into the sky until they were as small as stars.
As you look at Wendy, you may see her hair
becoming white, and her figure little again, for all this happened long ago.
Jane is now a common grown-up, with a daughter called Margaret; and every
spring cleaning time, except when he forgets, Peter comes for Margaret and =
takes
her to the Neverland, where she tells him stories about himself, to which he
listens eagerly. When Margaret grows up she will have a daughter, who is to=
be
Peter's mother in turn; and thus it will go on, so long as children are gay=
and
innocent and heartless.
THE E=
ND