Chapter 7 - Lessons
“Not like that, you idiot!” Jukes yelled in disgust. He snatched the cleaning rod away from Peter and shoved the boy to the ground.
“I was doing it like you said,” Peter snarled as he picked himself back up. “It’s not my fault you can’t give good directions. Clean Long Tom yourself, then!”
“I didn’t want you messin’ with my cannon in the first place. Now I have to check it to make sure you didn’t break anything. Why don’t you do everyone a favor and go jump over the railing. You don’t belong here,” Jukes taunted.
“I already tried that,” Peter growled angrily, but held himself in check. He wanted nothing more than to fight the gunner, but he knew the crew would take Jukes’s side. Jukes was one of them, and Peter was their prisoner. He held no illusions that anyone would care that Jukes constantly antagonized him and tried at every turn to humiliate and fight him. Peter didn’t understand why though, and it frustrated him to no end. In Neverland, Jukes would have never acted this way toward him. In Neverland, Peter could fly, and no-one could beat him. But this was the Jolly Roger, and Peter couldn’t escape. He was the lowest rank on ship, and Jukes apparently liked to lord it over him. We could have been friends, you’re a child like me. But you’re too much of a pirate I guess.
“I didn’t ask to come here. I didn’t want to touch your cannon. But I am here, and the Captain said for me to help you clean Long Tom. If you don’t want my help, then fine. I have other things I have to do but don’t want to,” Peter said through gritted teeth.
Billy smiled mischievously, “No, actually, Cap’n Hook said for you to help me. Since you’re too much of a klutz to be trusted with the cannon, you can take one of my other chores so I can take the time to do this right by myself. So, me bucko, you’ve got duty at the bilge pump. Have fun.”
“As long as I don’t have to look at you, then it’s an improvement,” Peter replied lightly. He turned and headed below, hearing Jukes laugh at him as he went. Inside, though, he was shaking with fury. Keep pushing me, Billy, and I’ll remind you why you pirates feared me.
Billy hummed happily as he went about his daily inspection and tweaking of his cannon. He wasn’t worried about any damage, Pan had actually been cleaning the barrel correctly. That had been the worst part, though. He didn’t want Pan touching his cannon, and the fact that he was doing it, and was learning so quickly how to work it, galled Jukes deeply.
He resented Pan’s presence on the ship. Billy thought back to his own first days on this ship, after the pirates had found him marooned. The crew had been cruel to him. They had delighted in giving him the worst duties, sabotaging his chores so that he had to do them again. They had taunted him at every opportunity, and Billy had lost count of the number of nights he had cried himself to sleep in the brig. He had had to sleep there until he had proved that he could be trusted enough to sleep with the crew. He had even served a stint as Hook’s unofficial cabin-boy, until he had proved himself of much more value as a gunner and a blacksmith. Only Mullins had ever shown him kindness in those first dark days, and even at that it had been nearly unendurable. But he had worked hard, jumped though the hoops, and earned his place on board.
The only thing that had helped him through the worst was the belief that the crew weren’t being malicious, but instead that it was what everyone who was new to ship’s life went through. That it was a part of paying your dues and earning respect from the old-salts. That’s what Mullins had told him.
In Neverland, Peter Pan had been the bane of their existence. He was the reason they couldn’t leave, and he constantly tormented the crew with his childish pranks. They had suffered humiliation at his hands, and they had suffered torment at Hook’s hand when Pan had enraged the captain, and he took it out on them. But Pan had been defeated and pressed into service. And was the brat treated like Billy had been? No.
Sure, he had been sick at first, and Hook had done something bad to him so that he nearly died. But when Billy had been brought aboard, he had been nearly starved to death, and had also been ill for awhile. But now Pan was better, and doing duty. No-one picked on him, though. The men did nothing to torment the boy, even though he was a prisoner, and therefore even easier prey than Billy had been. Instead, they showed him a small measure kindness or ignored him if they could. They acted like they were a bit afraid of him… but Jukes knew that Pan’s wings were clipped and his teeth were blunt. He was an ordinary kid now, and no more deserving of special consideration than Jukes had been. But Pan got special consideration. He slept in Hook’s cabin, and took his meals with the man. He was given leeway when he broke the rules or disobeyed orders. It wasn’t fair. So Jukes made it his duty to give Pan all the grief that he thought was the boy’s due. In Neverland, Pan had been the golden child who got everything he wanted. As far as Jukes was concerned, the same thing seemed to be happening on the Jolly Roger, and he hated Pan for it.
There was a war going on aboard the ship, and its captain didn’t have the slightest clue. The crew knew, but most of them stayed out of it. Jukes and Pan were the combatants, and their weapons were malicious pranks, underhanded tricks, and verbal assaults. But the rest of the men didn’t worry about it too much. They dismissed it as childish games, and decided that as long as no one was hurt or nothing was destroyed, the two boys were welcome to expend their extra energy playing.
No one realized that the pranks were escalating, or that they were soon going to get seriously out of hand.
“But I didn’t do it!” Peter yelled in frustration.
Hook glared at the boy angrily, and glanced up at where his flag should have been flying. Mr. Mullins had just finished removing the thing that had fluttered up there and was restoring the proper jolly-roger to its rightful place. “Who did it then? I found my flag under your bed. You are the only one who ever called me ‘Codfish’, which is what is written on that piece of cloth up there, with that caricature of me on it. No-one else in my crew is stupid enough to do anything that childish.”
“I’m not stupid, and I didn’t do it,” Peter insisted again, turning very red.
“You disappoint me, boy. I try to be patient, to let you adjust. But you still try to pull your pranks and make a fool of me! If you insist on behaving like a child, then I shall have to treat you like one!” Hook roared at the boy.
“I AM A CHILD,” Peter screamed back, enraged that the captain so easily assumed that he had done it, without giving him the chance to prove that it had been Billy.
Hook snarled and grabbed Peter roughly. The rest of the crew were on deck, watching the exchange nervously. Mason got himself ready in case Hook tried to kill Peter, so that he could intervene. But instead, Hook did something surprising. He dragged Peter to a crate and sat down on it. He picked the boy up and before Peter even realized what was happening, he was laying face-down across Hook’s lap. The pirate captain then proceeded to give Peter Pan the first spanking of his long childhood. Peter was horrified, and kicked and screamed, but that only seemed to make Hook hit him harder. He finally quit struggling and merely cried while he waited for the man to finish and let him up. He could hear the other men laughing and jeering at him, and the embarrassment and pain together were too much to bear. Finally, Hook decided it was enough, and pushed the child off of his lap onto the deck. Peter crouched defensively and looked up.
“If you don’t want to grow up, that’s fine. I will continue to treat you like a child then. You’ll see eventually that it is better to be a man on my ship and gain a measure of respect, than to be a whipping-boy. Maybe then you’ll grow up,” Hook explained coldly.
Peter wiped the tears from his eyes, and tried to glare at the men who were still laughing at him. But the shame was too much, and the happy smile that Jukes gave him was enough to drive him insane. “I hate you!” he screamed at everyone and no-one in particular, and ran to the cabin.
“BOY! I haven’t dismissed you,” Hook called, but Peter didn’t even look back. Hook ground his teeth together, then turned on his men. “Back to work, you dogs! I have no patience left, and do not doubt I’ll do the same to any of you that press me today.” He glared as the crew jumped to return to their duties, then stormed to the cabin to deal with his boy.
When he entered the room, he didn’t see Peter anywhere. But he could hear the quiet sobs, and knew the troublesome child was hiding somewhere. “Boy, come out, now,” he said quietly.
“Why don’t you believe me?” Peter’s voice came from under the bed, but he didn’t come out.
“No one else would have written…”
“I CAN’T READ!” Peter shrieked, cutting the man off.
Hook was floored. “What?” he asked, confused.
“I can’t read. I don’t know how to write. I don’t even know what most of the letters look like. I can’t spell ‘codfish’, much less write it. But you don’t care about that. You just wanted a reason to hurt me, so you wouldn’t even let me explain.”
Hook went to his chair and sat down. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He had never thought much about the boy’s education level. He had known that he was going to school the child eventually, but he had assumed that Peter could already read. I assumed he was guilty, and judged him without even considering any other options. He suddenly felt angry, not at Peter but at his crew. One of his men had done it and framed Peter. The guilty one had stood by and watched Peter being punished unjustly. Hook didn’t like being lied to, especially by one of his own crew. God damn it! How will I ever get the boy to trust me? Hook sighed, He has no reason to trust me, I’ve done nothing to earn his trust.
“Peter, come out,” he said again, softly this time. “I didn’t know you couldn’t read. I was wrong to assume you did it, and I was wrong to not let you vouch for yourself. But you’re wrong too. I don’t want a reason to hurt you. I don’t need a reason to do it. If I wanted to hurt you, I would do it whenever I wanted, without excuse. No-one on this ship would say a word. You are a member of my crew now, though a hostile one. If I merely wanted to torture you, I would have made you my slave. You’d do the same work, but you would have none of the benefits. I denied you one of your benefits, though. A crewman has the right to explain himself, and contest any charges against him. And as captain, I should have given you that right. I’m sorry. Please come out.”
I might as well, Peter thought, he’ll just get angry and drag me out if I don’t come. At least if I come out now, he’s in a better mood. Cautiously, Peter crawled out from under the bed. His rear hurt him a lot, so much that he couldn’t sit and even bending at his waist pained him. The tears still fell from his eyes, though his sobs had subsided, and his face was red and swollen. He glared at the man distrustfully, and backed up slowly till he bumped into the wall. He hissed in pain as his sore backside made contact with the wood, but he kept close to the wall to keep as much distance between them as he possibly could.
“Who would have framed you?” Hook asked him, frowning. Peter said nothing, his lips clamping together firmly. “I wronged you, Peter. Tell me who did it and I will see to it that they get worse than I gave you… much worse. Not only did they taunt me with that prank, they lied to me by not coming forward when I accused you. I will not tolerate that.”
“I’ll deal with the one that did it on my own. It’s our war, and I’ll win it,” Peter replied in a cold, even voice.
That he might, if I let him. Should I let him? “Very well. You deal with this. But I warn you: your ‘war’ had best not endanger the welfare of my ship, or my crew. If it does, you and your opponent will have to face MY wrath.”
Peter nodded in agreement.
“Now then, you can’t read or write. What letters do you know?” Hook asked cheerfully, trying to distract the boy.
“I know there’s an ‘A’, a ‘Z’, and … an ‘I’… but I don’t know what they look like.” Hook frowned slightly at that, trying to decide how to tackle the boy’s woeful lack of education. Peter, however, thought Hook might think he was stupid, and felt a flush of shame. He had never needed to read, and had never before cared about it. But he didn’t want Hook to think he was dumb, for some reason it mattered to him. His ignorance bothered him at first, but then he felt annoyed at Hook for judging him.
“Besides,” Peter continued, “I don’t want to learn how to read, or do numbers, or anything like that. Learning that boring stuff makes you grow up, and you only want me to learn so I will become a big ugly man like you are!” Peter held his breath, realizing he had gotten carried away. He waited for Hook to yell or hit him. He didn’t want either, but he wanted schooling less, so he figured it would be a good trade.
Hook glared at the boy, counting slowly in his head. It was a new trick he had figured out, and it had saved Peter broken bones on many occasions these past few weeks. “I know a great many grown men who cannot read, or add, and know nothing of history. I knew a great many children who know all those things, and still enjoyed playing games and causing trouble. Learning doesn’t age you. Experience ages you. Every man and boy on this ship can read and at least do simple math, except you.”
Peter fidgeted and looked down. He still stood against the wall, and looked extremely uncomfortable.
“Come sit down,” Hook ordered. Peter grimaced, but walked over and tried to sit at the desk. It pained him a lot, but he sat anyway, a soft moan escaping him as he settled his weight into the seat. “If it hurts too much, you can stand. Next time I decide to give you a spanking, even if you don’t think it’s deserved, you had best stay still. Fighting me will only make me angrier, and I won’t be paying attention to how hard I’m hitting you.”
Peter nodded and stood beside the desk.
“Now, I don’t think you’ll be much use on deck right now, so we will start your reading lesson today.”
“I don’t want to learn,” Peter protested stubbornly.
Hook was about to threaten the boy and try to scare him into paying attention. But then another idea crossed his mind. He had seen an insatiable curiosity in the boy; the trick was getting him interested. It wasn’t until Peter got interested in manning the wheel that Hook could get him to learn anything meaningful about how the ship sailed. After he got going, Peter had learned every inch of the ship’s steerage, mainsail to rudder, and understood how they interacted. From there, getting him to learn the rest of the ship had been easy.
He dug around in his desk drawer until he pulled out an old writing slate and some chalk. He carefully printed something on the slate, and showed it to Peter. “Do you at least recognize this?”
Peter glanced at it and shook his head.
“It’s your name.”
“What?” Peter said incredulously.
“It says Peter Pan,” Hook explained. He pointed to each letter and named them.
Peter watched closely, and then traced the letters lightly with his finger. “How does it say that, Captain?”
“Well, to tell you that, I’ll have to teach you the letters and the sounds they make. But I’m not going to waste my time if you don’t want to learn. I have other things I need to do.” He stood and acted like he was going to put the slate away.
“Wait,” Peter said. He was interested, and thought it would be grand if he could write his name. Besides, if I’m here, I don’t have to face the crew right now. Hook stopped and stared at Peter expectantly. Peter held the man’s gaze for a bit, considering. “Show me, please Captain. I want to try it. Maybe it won’t be so bad.” Hook still said nothing, and Peter thought Hook had changed his mind about teaching him, to be mean, so he added, “I don’t want you to think I’m stupid. I want to show you I can do it.”
Hook smiled suddenly, and Peter got a distinct impression that he had been manipulated. “Very well, Peter. We will start with the alphabet. Fortunately, there’s a little song that will help you remember all the letters.”
Hook was a demanding teacher and not given to patience. By the end of the short lesson, both he and Peter were aggravated and ready to be done. But Peter knew the song and could identify the first several letters – both upper and lower case.
That night, Hook did something that was new to both of them. He had a great many books on his bookshelves, but he also had a crate of some others that he had stored below. These books he had found in a cave in Neverland, covered with dust but wonderfully preserved. They were mostly children’s stories and other fiction, and Hook had not done much more than flip through them before he packed them away. One note of curiosity though, was in the dates some of the books: many of them had a ‘copyright’ date, and some of them were dated a hundred or a hundred-fifty years in his own future. Others, in condition just as good, seemed ancient, handwritten in Latin, Greek, or other obscure languages. From this selection, he picked one that looked promising.
Peter lay on his side on his cot, still too tender to want to lie on his back. Hook sat up in his own bed and opened the book. “Listen, Peter. I’m going to read something to you.”
“What? A bed-time story?” Peter asked, clearly in disbelief. “Why would you want to read me a bed-time story?”
“Its called ‘Treasure Island’, I haven’t read it but I think I like the title. I am going to read it to you because I want you to find a good reason to learn to read.”
Hook cleared his throat and began to read from the book. His plan worked, Peter was hooked. Peter loved stories, and couldn’t get enough of them. He listened, enraptured as Hook read the first few chapters. When the man closed the book, Peter protested loudly, wanting him to finish it.
“If you do your chores quickly and correctly tomorrow, and don’t get into trouble, I will read some more to you tomorrow night.”
“Yes, sir,” Peter answered. He thought for a moment. “Captain? If I learn, then I could read the book myself one day?”
Hook nodded, smiling, “If you learn to read, you can read any book I have.”
“They all have stories in them?”
“Most do. Some contain facts. Some have many stories in them.”
“Then I want to learn to read tomorrow.”
“It will take awhile. You can’t learn that much all at once.”
“But I’ll try, sir,” Peter closed his eyes.
Hook doused his light and was settling down when he heard a sound. “Boy? Are you crying again?”
“No,” Peter said, swallowing his tears. “I don’t remember anyone ever reading me a bed-time story before. If I wanted to hear a story, I had to fly to the real world and listen at windows to mothers telling their children stories. I can’t do that anymore. I miss the stories.”
“Well, when you learn to read, you will have lots of stories to read.”
“I still miss flying… and I miss home. But the story was nice; I want to hear more of it tomorrow.”
Hook said nothing, just rolled over to go to sleep. After awhile, he heard Peter begin crying again, as he cried every night when the boy thought Hook was asleep. The homesickness and loneliness the boy felt were overwhelming at night, and no matter how much he pulled back, Hook could still feel it. At first Hook had rather enjoyed listening to that sound. But recently he began to doubt himself and wondered if maybe he should have just killed Peter or left him alone, but done either in Neverland. Stop being weak! Did Pan feel bad for me when I cried at the loss of my hand? Did he regret tormenting me and humiliating me? No! He’s just a selfish child who is upset that someone finally decided to end his fun and raise him right.
He lay awake, listening until Peter had cried himself to sleep. Hook sighed and let himself drift off to get some rest before Peter woke him again with his dreams. That boy should appreciate me more. I let him sleep on a bed in my quarters, instead of a pallet in the brig. I made him a crewman instead of a slave. I treated his injuries. I comfort him when he has nightmares. I try to teach him, to rescue him from ignorant savagery. And he resists me at nearly every turn, too proud to accept his defeat. But… he’s come a long way already. It won’t be long before he’s tamed. What a man he will be! Hook felt a surge of anticipation and pride at the vision. My boy, he thought as he went to sleep. Peter did not have nightmares, and they both slept well through the night.
If he likes his cannon so much, then I’ll make sure he gets to spend plenty of quality time with it, Peter thought with a smile. Billy had just finished his morning inspection of the cannon, and had gone back down below. Peter took a quick look around and saw that no one was nearby to see what he was doing. Very quickly, he retrieved a bucket he had hidden behind some barrels earlier, and poured the thick, foul-smelling contents into Long Tom’s barrel, and then dumped another bucket of wood-shavings in after it. It’ll take him days to clean this out. Peter giggled quietly, then took up the buckets and beat a retreat before anyone could see what he had done.
It had been three days since the incident with the flag, and Peter had not exacted any retribution. Jukes himself had been impressed with the reaction the prank had received, and had not done anything else to antagonize Peter, choosing instead to spend his time watching for the retaliation he knew would come. But after three days… Pan was known for his impatience, so Jukes was beginning to believe his opponent had given up in defeat.
“Peter! My quarters, now!” Hook ordered as he went to his cabin. Peter looked up in alarm, thinking perhaps he had been found out. But then he remembered what Hook had said at breakfast: he was to begin his lessons at late morning everyday, and go until lunch, and then resume them in the evening after supper. He sighed in relief and made his way to the cabin. He felt a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t see Billy’s reaction when he found his present, but he figured he’d hear the commotion anyway. Jukes was nothing if not loud when he was upset, with a vocabulary only Hook could outdo.
A few minutes later, Jukes and Mason climbed on deck, each carrying one end of a barrel of powder. Jukes was smiling happily, despite the heavy burden he was carrying. It had been a long time since he had gotten to fire Long Tom, since now there weren’t any Lost Boys to shoot at. He had complained to the Captain that he was getting rusty, and needed to make sure the cannon would fire from time to time. Hook didn’t want to waste the powder and shot, but he also recognized it would be useless to have either if the cannon didn’t work Jukes was to test the cannon once a week now, to make sure it was still working and the sight was true. Humming happily to himself and giving the tiger effigy an occasional pat, Jukes loaded the cannon.
Peter looked up in alarm when he heard the explosion. “What was that?” he gasped, feeling an unease growing in the pit of his stomach.
“Long Tom. I told Jukes to test fire it today to make sure it’s battle-worthy,” Hook replied absently, but stopped suddenly when he heard the shouts of alarm outside. Like a shot, Peter jumped up from the desk and ran outside, Hook hot behind him.
Chaos reigned on the deck. Long Tom was a smoking mess, and it was easily seen by even Peter that the cannon had backfired and exploded. Across the deck, a good fifteen feet away, lay Jukes. Mullins and Starkey were huddled over him, checking the boy over and shouting for water and bandages. Billy wasn’t moving or making a sound.
Hook crossed to where Billy lay in a few great strides. “What the devil happened here? Mason! Check the cannon! Mullins! Get the boy to the galley and give him whatever he needs. Move it!” he shouted, breaking the men out of their panic and giving them the direction they needed.
A few moments later, Mason shouted from the cannon, “Sabotage! Somebody fouled the cannon up with some kind of gunk! That’s what made it explode in Billy’s face.”
Peter stared in shock, looking slowly back and forth between the ruined cannon and the fallen child. I killed Jukes. I didn’t know he was going to fire it, I didn’t know this would happen. I killed him, it’s my fault.”
Mullins stood and rounded on Hook, yelling, “Pan did it! He and Billy been doin’ this crap for weeks now. I guess Pan finally decided to end it! You should’a killed that brat, but instead you brought the little demon aboard! Look what it’s got us! Our cannon’s busted and Billy...” Mullins’ voice choked up on him, and he scooped the boy up with a cry and carried him below to treat his burns and wounds.
Hook turned slowly to Peter, a fire burning in his eyes. “Is this true, boy? Did you sabotage my cannon and try to murder a member of my crew?” Peter didn’t answer, too dazed and worried to register anything but that Jukes was dead because of him. Hook growled and went to where Peter stood. He hooked the boy by the shirt and lifted him up to eye level. “Did you do this, Pan?” he said with his coldest voice, glaring into the boy’s eyes.
Peter saw Hook staring at him, and the question finally registered in his mind. Slowly, he nodded, and his world exploded in pain.