“Peter! Peter!” Rosemary screamed as she burst into the grove, Gwen and Twill fast behind her.
Peter didn't seem interrupted. He'd been whittling a pipe at Oat's request. When he set the project aside it seemed he set it aside entirely his own accord. He looked up, but could not distinguish between this frightened tone and the joyful excitement that children so often screamed his name with.
“What nonsense are you about, Rosemary?” he asked, playful and chipper. He had forgotten he'd even sent the three of them on scouting duty.
“Tell him, Gwen! Tell him!”
Gwen was in no condition to do so. She panted, out of breath. The sight of the ship had given her such anxiety, her flight had faltered in spurts all the way back. She'd done plenty of running to keep pace with her frantic sister and poor, confused Twill.
Hollyhock zipped over with unabashed interest in Gwen's drama. The lost children in earshot came, creeping with curiosity, toward Gwen and away from their play-work. Her eyes darted between them, and back to Peter, before she had breath enough to say, “A ship. On the horizon.”
“A ship?” Peter repeated, the word tasting like excitement to him. “A pirate ship?”
Gwen shook her head, lest her weak voice fail her, “No.”
Peter gave her a distrustful gaze. “What kind of ship then? No one sails to Neverland but pirates. It must be pirates!”
“It didn't look like any pirate ship I've ever seen, Peter,” Rosemary told him, and Bracken and Thistle chattered over each other, their red and pink glows jittering as they elaborated, in language far too fast and colorful for Gwen to follow. Hollyhock, however, comprehended it all and launched into a trilling tizzy.
“It was a huge, metal ship. Nothing like a pirate ship. It looked modern. It looked like the military,” she explained. She tried not to let the wide-eyed expressions of the lost children unnerve her as she told him, “It looked like a warship.”
Peter became deadly serious. “From what direction?”
“Uhhh…”
“Sort of the curvy bit from like if they were heading round the beachy part before Cannibal's Cove,” Rosemary explained, motioning with her hands.
Peter seemed to understand this direction better than he would have precise degrees or standard directions. He looked to the lost children. “Get the others. Let's go.”
Rosemary fetched Sal, Newt, and the other tunnel diggers. Twill and Yam shot into the trees and made noises like whip-o-whirls in distress, a noise which echoed halfway across the island and brought everyone else back in a hurry. Peter ducked into the underground home just long enough to fetch an ancient sword from the precarious rack he kept it mounted on.
Together, they hiked through the jungle like a herd of skittish horses. Given the somber situation, it seemed improper to fly. The children scream-whispered their speculations to each other, and the more proactive boys and girls began working on their war chants and battle cries. As they went, they gathered a train of fairies who followed after them in reverent aprehension.
Neverland seemed imbued with the essence of their collective energy. The draping vines and slimy ground covers hung thicker and slimier than usual. It slowed their pilgrimage down, but benevolent Neverland scrunched its land like a paper map and let them cover the distance faster.
As they broke the treeline, the twittering children forgot themselves and leapt into the air, zooming down the grassy, hilly slope that hid Cannibal's Cove from view and led from rocky shore to sandy beach.
A dark smudge of a large vessel soiled the horizon, and now everyone saw it.
“Who is it?”
“Why are they coming?”
“Tell them to go away!”
Peter demanded his spyglass from Gwen and she handed it over. With a little extra twisting and tugging, he expanded it to almost twice the length anyone else had ever extended it.
“Can you see the people on board?”
“What do they look like?”
Questions burbled from the children like a geyser streaming into the sky. They fell quiet as Peter told them, “There's three ships, at least, and I'd wager not a single pirate sails aboard any of those ugly metal boats.”
“Then who?” Jam demanded, rather upset with this development.
“It'll be the black coats,” Peter replied. “The grown-ups have found us.”
“How!” howled Spurt, terrified by the thought.
“Stars and bones only know,” Peter answered, dismayed. “But they're coming now.”
“They're still so far off,” Twill remarked.
“Maybe they'll get lost before they get here,” Rosemary suggested.
Peter shook his head, staring at the fateful ships without the aid of the spyglass. The other children passed his pocket telescope around, but could hardly hold the fully-extended shaft.
“How long do we have?” Gwen asked.
“Neverland will slow them down,” Peter assured her. “It takes a long time to reach Neverland on sea for those who have never been before. We'll have four days, five at most.”
Newt turned to Sal. “How long is five days?”
“Not long enough,” Blink answered.
Peter did not care for her defeated tone. He led by example, and didn't let this bother him at all. Full of confidence, he began delegating tasks at once.
“Blink, go tell the redskins. You're the only one who knows how to track them well enough to find them. Hollyhock, I need you to gather what you need and go tell the other fairies.”
“What about the mermaids?” Inch asked.
“The ship is sailing over their domain—they will already know.”
He continued issuing orders, and soon these seemed merely the parameters of a grand new game they prepared to play. Peach, Pear, and Plum returned to the grove to fetch blankets—the lost children would sleep on the sand tonight, and keep watch on the ships to make sure they did not advance any faster than Peter had predicted.
Soon everyone was occupied. Even those without jobs went fast to work down in the damp sand, where they could sketch ideas for fortresses and great battles. Peter hung back, settling into a melancholy only Gwen could see or share in. He putted over to a driftwood log, washed high on the shore by a long-forgotten storm. She followed, and sat beside him.
“I don't understand,” she said. She felt confused and betrayed—by what, she didn't know. “How is it even possible for adults to come to Neverland?”
Peter stared off at the ominous blot on the horizon. “It's the Never Tree. It's weak. I've felt it in the island's magic ever since I took the root cutting and paid Piper with it. I knew the tree would suffer for it, but that alone shouldn't have enabled the grown-ups to find us… Piper's a dangerous man to make a deal with, though. Second only to mermaids.” Gwen shuddered. He had a look in his eye that, had it not been Peter, Gwen would have identified as regret. “It seems we've yet to pay the full brunt of Piper's price.”
He fell into silence and stayed in it. Gwen didn't know what to say. She patted his back and didn't say anything.
Peach, Pear, and Plum returned with more blankets than the three of them should have been able to carry. The boys and Yam started fishing for dinner. The girls and Twill hunted around for coconuts and bananas to accompany dinner. Wax and Dew built sand castles as scale models of their proposed fortresses. Blink returned from the redskin camp at the same time as the stars returned from their daytime slumber, but Hollyhock didn't return at all.
In the dark, Gwen's imagination plagued her with visions in the water. The shadowy shapes rising and vanishing with the waves almost looked like voyeuristic mermaids, and when Gwen tried to sleep that night, she couldn't shake the illusion that the wind carried the sound of aquatic laughter.
The other children fell straight out after a long day in the sun, but Gwen played the insomniac. She watched Peter with growing concern, waiting for him to retreat to bed too. When she finally fell asleep, Peter still stood beside the fire, etching battle plans in the sand and murmuring to fairies.
He would have only make-believe sleep for the night, but when morning came, he would have more energy and optimism than anyone. He would have a plan.