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 romantic
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 mocking mouth
had one kiss on it that Wendy could never
get, though there is 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
that 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, and 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
mother 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 would have
made any woman respect him.

-1-

"Remember mumps," he warned her almost
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 course,
they had a nurse. As they were poor, owing
to the amount of milk the children 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 children important,
however, and the Darlings had become
acquainted with her in Kensington Gardens,
where she spent most of her spare time
peeping into perambulators, 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,

-2-

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 mother after
her children are asleep to rummage in their
minds and put things straight 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 can'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 sweet and not so
sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it
were as nice as a kitten, 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 aired, 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 of 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

-3-

children'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
was here and there in John and Michael's
minds, while Wendy's began to be scrawled
all 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 said 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
married 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
smiled pooh-pooh. "Mark my words," he
said, "it is some nonsense Nana has been
putting into their heads; just the sort of idea
a dog would have. Leave it alone, and it will
blow over."

-4-

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 she
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. She 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 next night showed, the night on which
the extraordinary adventures of these
children 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 slid away into
the land of sleep.

All were looking so safe and cosy that she
smiled at her fears now and sat down
tranquilly by the fire to sew.

It was something for Michael, who on his
birthday was getting into shirts. The fire was
warm, however, and the nursery dimly lit by

-5-

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 killed, 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
with 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
shadow carefully, but it was quite the
ordinary kind.

Nana had no doubt of what was the best
thing to 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 disturbing the children."

But unfortunately Mrs. Darling could not
leave it hanging out at the window, it looked
so like the washing and lowered the whole
tone of the house. She thought of showing it
to Mr. Darling, but he was totting up winter
great-coats for John and Michael, with a
wet towel around his head to keep his brain
clear, and it seemed a shame to trouble
him; besides, she knew 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
away carefully in a drawer, until a fitting
opportunity came for telling her husband. Ah
me!

The opportunity came a week later, on that

-6-

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 begun so
uneventfully, so precisely like a hundred
other evenings, with Nana putting 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!"

Then Mrs. Darling had come in, wearing her
white 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
saying:

"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
Mrs. 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.

-7-

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 don't
go to the office again, you and I starve, and
our children will be flung into 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 children stood around to see their
fate decided. Some men would have
resented her being 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
suddenly 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 are
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,

-8-

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 we well.'"

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, isn'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 not 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, "it'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," she
panted.

"You have been wonderfully quick," her
father retorted, with a vindictive politeness
that was quite thrown away upon her.
"Michael first," he said doggedly.

"Father first," said Michael, who was of a
suspicious nature.

-9-

"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
looking at him, just as if they did not admire
him. "Look here, all of you," he said
entreatingly, as soon as Nana had gone into
the bathroom. "I have 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 reproachfully 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 her, "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 crept 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, while she
comforted her boys, and Wendy hugged
Nana. "Much good," he said 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

-10-

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 stars. They were crowding round the
house, as if curious to see what was to take
place 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 she 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."

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

-11-

the little stars, and Peter dropped in. He had
carried Tinker Bell part of the way, and his
hand was still messy with the fairy dust.

"Tinker Bell," he called softly, after 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
answered 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
their 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 ever
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 passed 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, "why are you
crying?"

Peter could be exceeding polite also,

-12-

"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 thought 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 stick on. Besides, I
wasn't crying."

"It has come off?"

"Yes."

Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor,
looking so draggled, and she was frightfully
sorry for Peter. "How awful!" she 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 on to Peter's foot.

"I daresay it will hurt a little," she warned
him.

-13-

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," 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 Peter 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," he
replied stiffly, and not to hurt his feeling she
gave him a thimble.

"Now," said he, "shall I give you a kiss?" and
she replied with a slight primness, "If you
please." She made herself rather cheap by
inclining her face toward him, but he merely
dropped an acorn button into her hand, so
she slowly returned her face to where it had
been before, and said nicely that she would
wear his kiss on the chain 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, when 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 day I was

-14-

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 called 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!"

"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 language. I
think I hear her too."

The sound come 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, "I do
believe I shut her up in the drawer!"

He let poor Tink out of the drawer, and she
flew 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 said, but for
one moment Wendy saw the romantic figure

-15-

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
clever 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
bed, 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,
relenting, "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, "I don't
mean a kiss, I mean a thimble."

"What's that?"

"It's like this." She kissed him.

"Funny!" said Peter gravely. "Now shall I
give you a thimble?"

"If you wish to," said Wendy, keeping her
head erect this time.

-16-

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, "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 his 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 toward 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."

"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
your silly bed you might be flying about with
me saying funny things to the stars."

"Oo!"

-17-

but Peter suddenly signed silence. Their
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, stop!
Everything was wrong. Nana, who had
been barking distressfully all the evening,
was quiet now. It was her silence they had
heard.

"Out with the light! Hide! Quick!" cried 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 tamper, for she was
mixing the Christmas puddings in the
kitchen, and had been drawn from them,
with a raisin 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 said, 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,
breathed 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 bark again I shall go straight for
master and missus and bring them home
from the party, and then, oh, won't master

-18-

"I say, how do you do it?" asked John,
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."

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,
for 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 each 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
Michael let go first. He did not quite mean to
let go, but he did it, and immediately he was
borne across the room.

"I flewed!" he screamed while still in mid-
air.

John let go and met Wendy near the
bathroom.

"Oh, lovely!"

"Oh, ripping!"

"Look at me!"

-19-

Darling would have rushed upstairs, but
Mrs. Darling signed him to go softly. She
even tried to make her heart go softly.

Will they reach the nursery in time? If so, how
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 had 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 the
night, followed by John and Michael and
Wendy.

Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana rushed into
the nursery too late. The birds were flown.

Chapter 4 The Flight

"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 corners,
could not have sighted it with these
instructions. Peter, you see, just said
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 round
church spires or any other tall objects on the
way that took their fancy.

-20-

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 moment
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, because 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!"

"We could go back," Michael said.

"How could we ever find our way back
without him?"

"Well, then, we could go on," said John.

"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

-21-

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.
However, 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 several
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 cry 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 moons they
did reach it, and, what is more, they had
been going pretty straight all the time, not
perhaps so much owing to the guidance of
Peter or Tink as because the island was
looking for them. It is only thus that any one
may sight those 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-

-22-

island in gloom.

In the old days at home the Neverland had
always begun to look a little dark and
threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored
patches 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 certainty 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
close 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 and 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
front.

Sometimes he poised himself in the air,

-23-

"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."

"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 hand,

-24-

"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,
and 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, same as the stars."

"Then tell her to sleep at once," John 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, "these 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," Peter said,
"we could carry her in it." However, they had
set off in such 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

-25-

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 room 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 believe some of it was
bad words, but it sounded kind, and she
flew back and forward, plainly meaning
"Follow me, and all will be well."

What else could poor Wendy do? She called
to Peter 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.

Chapter 5 The Island Come True

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.

-26-

to his countenance, but instead of souring
his nature had sweetened 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
offered 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 her mischief], and she
thinks you are the most easily tricked of the
boys. 'Ware Tinker Bell.

Would that he could hear us, but we are not
really on the island, and he passes by, biting
his knuckles.

Next comes Nibs, the gay and debonair,
followed 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 the 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 band 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
pause, 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:

-27-

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 elegance 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 courage, 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 attire 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 enabled him to
smoke two cigars at once. But undoubtedly
the grimmest part of him was his iron claw.

Let us now kill a pirate, to show Hook's
method. Skylights will do. As they pass,
Skylights lurches clumsily against him,
ruffling his lace collar; the hook shoots forth,
there is a tearing sound and 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 Pan is pitted. Which will win?

On the trail of the pirates, stealing

-28-

appear again, for the procession must
continue indefinitely until one of the parties
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," every
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 the
pirates," Slightly said, in the tone that
prevented his being a general favourite; but
perhaps some distant sound disturbed him,
for he added hastily, "but I wish he would
come back, and tell us whether he has
heard anything 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," Nibs 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 just 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:

-29-

for everything, and his cutlass was Johnny
Corkscrew, because 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
weapon.

"Johnny's a silent fellow," he reminded
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 in a moment their Captain and Smee
were alone. Hook heaved a heavy sigh, and
I know not why it was, perhaps it was
because of the soft beauty of the evening,
but 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 often 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, wincing, "to a

-30-

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.

"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 thickness with green sugar
on it. There can be but one room below, for
there is but one 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 with 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 ever I
heard of!" he cried, and in their exultation

-31-

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
moment is the long one, but victory came
quickly, for as the boys advanced upon
them 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 instantly, "there
are birds called Wendies."

"See, it comes!" cried Curly, pointing 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.

"Hullo, Tink," cried the wondering boys.

Tink's reply rang out: "Peter wants you to
shoot the Wendy."

It was not in their nature to question when

-32-

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, pretty 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; "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 heard Peter
crow.

"Peter!" they cried, for it was always thus
that he signalled his return.

"Hide her," they whispered, and gathered
hastily around Wendy. But Tootles stood
aloof.

Again came that ringing crow, and Peter
dropped 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, "why do you not
cheer?"

-33-

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 Wendy lady, see,
her arm!"

Wonderful to relate [tell], Wendy had raised
her arm. Nibs bent over her and listened
reverently. "I think she said, `Poor Tootles,'"
he whispered.

"She lives," Peter said briefly.

Slightly cried instantly, "The Wendy lady
lives."

Then Peter knelt beside her and found his
button. You remember she had put it on a
chain that she wore round her neck.

"See," he said, "the arrow struck against
this. It is the kiss I gave her. It has saved her
life."

"I remember kisses," Slightly interposed
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
could 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,
and almost never had they seen him look so
stern.

-34-

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, though 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 captainy
voice, "see that these boys help in the
building of the house."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Build a house?" exclaimed John.

"For the Wendy," said Curly.

"For Wendy?" John said, aghast. "Why, she

-35-

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," 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"; 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 the sound of axes; almost everything
needed for a cosy dwelling already lay at
Wendy's feet.

"If only we knew," said one, "the 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,

-36-

course, they could no longer see her. Peter
strode up and down, ordering finishing
touches. Nothing escaped his eagle eyes.
Just when it seemed absolutely finished:

"There's no knocker on the door," he said.

They were very ashamed, but Tootles gave
the sole of his shoe, and it made an
excellent knocker.

Absolutely finished now, they thought.

Not of bit of it. "There's no chimney," 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 head,
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, smoke 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 them;
"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 still 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

-37-

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 first
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 night 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 had 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 just
tweaked Peter's nose and passed on.

Chapter 7 The Home Under The Ground

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 down, 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 being 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

-38-

baby 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, could 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, known 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
inevitable, 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 pot, and even if
there was nothing in it, even if there was no
pot, she had to keep watching that it came
aboil just the same. You never exactly knew
whether there would be a real meal or just a
make-believe, it all depended upon Peter's
whim: he could eat, really eat, if it was part
of a game, but he could not stodge [cram

-39-

was that John remembered his parents
vaguely only, as people he had once known,
while Michael was quite willing to believe
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 setting 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 passed
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
really dreadful what a number of crosses
even John made. Of course the only boy
who 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
despised 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

-40-

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 the 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 Tootles answered,
"Redskin; what are you, Nibs?" and Nibs
said, "Redskin; what are you Twin?" and so
on; and they were all redskins; 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 narrate. 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
cooked so that the boys might eat it and
perish; and how they placed it in one
cunning 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

-41-

on the mainland, just one heavenly moment;
if there could be two moments you might
see the surf and hear the mermaids singing.

The children often spent long summer days
on this 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 as 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,
except 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 tell, 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 one 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

-42-

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 on 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 stick 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
out. 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 they could do was to
stand ready to obey. The order came sharp
and incisive.

"Dive!"

-43-

Tiger Lily: it was two against one 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, staring at
each other in surprise.

"He must be swimming out to us," Starkey
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

-44-

"The game's up," he cried, "those 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 had started up, crying, "What was
that?"

"I heard nothing," said Starkey, raising 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
moment 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, "that is the fear
that haunts me."

He was roused from this dejection by

-45-

go," said Starkey.

"Brimstone and gall," thundered Hook,
"what cozening [cheating] is going on here!"
His face had gone black 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."

"It is passing queer," Smee said, and they
all fidgeted uncomfortably. Hook raised his
voice, but there was a quiver 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, even 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 cried
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?"

"A codfish," replied the voice, "only a
codfish."

-46-

"No!" This answer rang out scornfully.

"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.

"Well, then," he cried, "I am Peter Pan."

Pan!

In a moment Hook was himself again, and
Smee and Starkey were his faithful
henchmen.

-47-

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 almost 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. Quick as thought he
snatched a knife from Hook's belt and was
about to drive it home, 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
what dazed Peter. It made him quite
helpless. He could only stare, horrified.
Every 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
difference between him and all the rest.

So when he met it now it was like the first
time; and he could just stare, helpless.
Twice the iron hand clawed him.

A few moments afterwards the other boys
saw Hook in the water striking wildly for the
ship; no elation on the pestilent face now,
only white fear, for the crocodile was in

-48-

"Shall we swim or fly, Peter?"

He had to tell her.

"Do you think you could swim or fly as far as
the island, Wendy, without my help?"

She had to admit that she was too tired.

He moaned.

"What is it?" she asked, anxious about 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?"

"Look how the water is rising."

They put their hands over their eyes to shut
out the sight. They thought they would soon
be no more. As they sat thus something
brushed against Peter as light as a kiss,
and stayed there, as if saying timidly, "Can I
be of any use?"

It was the tail of a kite, which Michael had
made 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 bravely.

"And you a lady; never." Already he had tied

-49-

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
though 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, and 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 best, 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," 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.

-50-

discovered the glittering hoard, and when in
a mischievous mood used to fling showers
of moidores, diamonds, pearls 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,
watertight, with a broad brim. Peter put the
eggs into this hat and set it on the lagoon. 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 his 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 barque [small ship, actually the Never
Bird's nest in this particular case in point] 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 pieces, and often Starkey came to
the shore of the lagoon, and with many bitter
feelings 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 the 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 biggest
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

-51-

Always when he said, "Peter Pan has
spoken," it meant that they must now shut
up, and they accepted it humbly 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 father.
"Father knows best," she always said,
whatever her private opinion must be. Her
private opinion was that the redskins should
not call her a squaw.

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 uneventful, and
now the redskins in their blankets were at
their posts above, while, below, 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 their
chatter and recriminations, the noise, as
Wendy said, was positively deafening. To
be sure, she did not mind noise, but she
simply would not have them grabbing
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 politely and saying, "I complain of
so-and-so;" but what usually happened
was that they forgot to do this or did it too

-52-

"As I can't be father," he said heavily, "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."

"Nibs is speaking with his mouth full."

"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 her work-basket, a heavy load of
stockings and every knee with a hole in it as
usual.

-53-

"Dance away, my little man," said Peter,
who was in high good humour.

"But we want you to dance."

Peter was really the best dancer among
them, but he pretended to be scandalised.

"Me! My old bones would rattle!"

"And mummy too."

"What," cried Wendy, "the mother 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 wanted to do
anything special they said this was
Saturday night, and then they did it.

"Of course it is Saturday night, Peter,"
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
must 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 turning 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

-54-

"You are so queer," he said, frankly puzzled,
"and Tiger Lily is just the same. There is
something she wants to be to me, but she
says it is not my mother."

"No, indeed, it is not," Wendy replied 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,
eavesdropping, 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 in 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 their last
hour on the island, let us rejoice that there

-55-

"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 called out,
determined that she should have fair play,
however beastly a story it might be in his
opinion.

"The gentleman's name," Wendy continued,
"was Mr. Darling, and her name was Mrs.
Darling."

"I knew them," John said, to annoy the
others.

"I think I knew them," said Michael rather
doubtfully.

"They were married, you know," explained
Wendy, "and what do you think they had?"

"White rats," cried Nibs, inspired.

"No."

"It's awfully puzzling," said Tootles, who
knew the story by heart.

-56-

"It's awfully sad," the first twin said
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." 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 for 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, every 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?

-57-

concealed.

"Long ago," he said, "I thought like you that
my mother would always keep the window
open for me, so I stayed 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
knows 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 mourning 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 coolly as if she
had asked him to pass the nuts.

Not so much as a sorry-to-lose-you

-58-

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
they 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 down, "I
have asked the redskins to guide you
through the wood, as flying tires you so."

"Thank you, Peter."

"Then," he continued, in the short sharp
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
answer, 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 called, "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, and she
said so in still more offensive language.
Then she pretended to be asleep again.

"She says she won't!" Nibs exclaimed,
aghast at such insubordination, whereupon
Peter went sternly toward the young 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]."

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you your medicine before 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 always 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 pipes.
She had to run about after him, though it
was rather undignified.

"To find your mother," she coaxed.

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 out,
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."

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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 rent 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 toward 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 battle was in
his eye.

Chapter 12 The Children Are Carried Off

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 be 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 stirring a
blade. The brushwood closes behind them,
as silently as sand into which a mole has
dived. Not a sound is to be heard, save
when they give vent to a wonderful imitation
of the lonely call of the coyote. The cry is
answered by other braves; and some of

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Hook. From the accounts afterwards
supplied by such of the scouts as escaped
the carnage, he does not seem even to
have paused 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. Even 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 never 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

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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 led, owing to the crocodile's
pertinacity [persistance], hardly account for
a vindictiveness 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 bush, 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 lived, 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
the thinnest ones. They wriggled
uncomfortably, for they knew he would not
scruple [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 figures, 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 pandemonium 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

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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, who came last. With ironical
politeness Hook raised his hat to her, and,
offering her his arm, escorted her to the
spot where the others were being gagged.
He did it with such an air, he was so
frightfully DISTINGUE [imposingly
distinguished], 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 others, 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 them 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 which
to tie a knot. The pirates kicked him in their
rage, just as you kick the parcel (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

-64-

The first thing he did on finding himself
alone 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 refreshingly through
his hair. Dark as were his thoughts his blue
eyes were as soft as the periwinkle. Intently
he listened for any sound from the nether
world, but all was as silent below as above;
the house under the ground seemed to be
but one more empty tenement in the void.
Was that boy asleep, or did he stand waiting
at the foot of Slightly's tree, with his dagger
in his hand?

There was no way of knowing, save by
going down. 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 the trees
took shape; but the only one on which his
greedy gaze rested, long sought for and
found at last, was the great bed. On the bed
lay Peter fast asleep.

Unaware of the tragedy being enacted
above, Peter 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 always tucked them
inside it, because you never know that you

-65-

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
forward 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
caught 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
carried about his person a dreadful drug,
blended by himself of all the death dealing
rings that had come into his possession.
These he had boiled down into a yellow
liquid quite unknown to science, which was
probably the most virulent poison 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; merely 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 looked 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

-66-

"Oh, you could never guess!" she cried, and
offered him three guesses. "Out with it!" he
shouted, and in one ungrammatical
sentence, as long as the ribbons that
conjurers [magicians] pull from their
mouths, she told of the capture of Wendy
and the boys.

Peter's heart bobbed up and down as he
listened. 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?"

"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 words
had left no room for doubt. The cup was
poisoned.

"Besides," said Peter, quite believing
himself "I never fell asleep."

He raised the cup. No time for words now;
time for deeds; and with one of her lightning

-67-

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
affirmative, 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; but 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. She never thought of thanking
those who believed, but she would have like
to get at the ones who had hissed.

"And now to rescue Wendy!"

The moon was riding in a cloudy heaven
when Peter 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 nothing unwonted
should escape his eyes; but in that fitful light
to have flown low would have meant trailing
his shadow through the trees, thus
disturbing birds and acquainting a watchful

-68-

Creek, which is near the mouth of the pirate
river, marked where the brig, the JOLLY
ROGER, 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 feathers. 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,
through which no sound from her could have
reached the shore. There was little sound,
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 fount of Hook's tears and made
it flow. Of this, as of almost everything else,
Smee was quite unconscious.

A few of the pirates leant over the bulwarks,
drinking in the miasma [putrid mist] of the
night; others sprawled by barrels over
games of dice and cards; and the
exhausted four who had carried the little
house lay prone on the deck, where even in
their sleep they rolled skillfully to this side or
that out of Hook's reach, lest he should claw
them mechanically in passing.

Hook trod the deck in thought. O man
unfathomable. 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 grimmest
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 deck
unsteadily, bellied out by the winds of his

-69-

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
was a claw within him sharper than the iron
one; and as it tore him, the perspiration
dripped down his tallow [waxy]
countenance and streaked his doublet.
Ofttimes 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 ship. Hook felt
a gloomy desire to make his dying speech,
lest presently there should be no time for it.

"Better for Hook," he cried, "if he had had
less ambition!" It was in his darkest hours
only that he referred 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 mind. 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 on his spectacles.

-70-

The wretched prisoners were dragged from
the hold, 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 boys. 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 it, 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 twin, 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
hankering at maths. prep.; and he was

-71-

No words of mine can tell you how Wendy
despised 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 years. There was not
a porthole on the grimy glass of which you
might not have written 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 are 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 will 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 "

But Hook had found his voice again.

-72-

knowing that it was no intrinsic part of what
the attacking force wanted. Left so fearfully
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 knees along
the deck as far from the sound as he could
go. The pirates respectfully 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
Fate.

Only when Hook was hidden from them did
curiosity 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 Night 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.

Chapter 15 "Hook Or Me This Time"

Odd things happen to all of us on our way
through 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 pass by without noticing
anything peculiar about it, but by and by he
remembered that it had not been ticking. At

-73-

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, reader,
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 forward. Four boys
caught him to prevent the thud. Peter gave
the signal, and the carrion 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
tiptoe, vanished into the cabin; for more
than one pirate was screwing up his
courage 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, wiping 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 cried
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
with a certain loss of dignity, he danced

-74-

"Bill Jukes dead!" cried the startled pirates.

"The cabin's as black as a pit," Cecco 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 his 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
despairingly. There was no more singing,
all listened now; and again came a death-
screech and again a crow.

No one spoke except Slightly. "Three," 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?"

-75-

accurst is when there's one on board more
than can be accounted for."

"I've heard," muttered Mullins, "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 Cookson
insolently; and one after another took up the
cry, "The ship's doomed!" At this the
children could not resist raising a cheer.
Hook had well-nigh forgotten his prisoners,
but as he swung round on them now his face
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 pushed
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 the 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

-76-

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 voice
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 thither, 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
enabled the boys to hunt in pairs and
choose their quarry. Some of the
miscreants leapt into the sea; others hid in
dark recesses, where they were found by
Slightly, 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 reeking 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 boys 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
and again he hewed a clear space. He had
lifted up one boy with his hook, and was
using him as a buckler [shield], when
another, who had just passed his sword
through Mullins, sprang into the fray.

"Put up your swords, boys," cried the
newcomer, "this man is mine."

-77-