“Gwen? Gwen? Come on, Gwen. Wake up.”
She heard fear in his voice. Gwen could tell, even before she attached the voice to a person, that someone feared she wouldn't wake up.
She didn't want to wake up. Her head hurt and she had endured a horrible nightmare. She wanted to escape the nightmare, into dreams. Where could she go but dreams when she knew she was still in Neverland? She didn't want to wake up, but she didn't want him to worry. She wanted to let him know she was only looking for better dreams. The worst of it had passed if she could dream now, and maybe find a Neverland in her mind didn't have nearly as much treachery.
She turned her head into him, nestling into the arms that held her. She didn't even notice he was soaking wet. After all, so was she.
She heard him sigh, and she could feel the strength of his relief through his chest as his lungs exhaled. “I was really worried about you for a minute there, Gwen.”
She opened her eyes. She saw two skies, two shorelines, and two Starkeys holding her. Everything appeared in subtle double. The images almost matched up, almost formed one picture, but everything fell a little off kilter. She tried to focus her eyes on Starkey and reduce the effect, but the pain in her head intensified, punishing her for the effort.
“Are you hurt?” he asked her.
“I hit my head…”
“Okay, you can talk. That's a good sign.” He started walking, wading through the water as he carting her in his arms. Her waterlogged satchel dragged behind her on the water. “We're going to get you something to eat and have you lie down for a bit. I think you might have a concussion, Gwendolyn.”
Confused by his use of we, Gwen tipped her head just enough to see two pirates approaching in a small boat. No longer confined to their dinghies, they piloted one of the black coats' motorized beach landers.
One shouted over to them, his words weighed down with a heavy French accent. “She awake? If she isn't, we can use one of Fishface Fletcher's socks. It's no smelling salts, but it'll do the trick.”
“How did you get one of their boats…?” Gwen muttered. Pirates in naval beach landers seemed out of place.
“We're pirates,” Starkey told her, smiling. “We stole it.”
The two pirates piloted the mechanical craft remarkably well for seafarers who looked like they'd never seen so much as an electric light. They beached, and Starkey carried Gwen over to the commandeered raft as the puttering engine idled.
“Mr. Starkey… you were right,” Gwen said. She felt like she was crying, but she couldn't tell. “You can't trust a mermaid.”
“Ah, so that's what this is,” Starkey sighed. The French pirate with the sharp blond mustache helped him as he lowered Gwen into the boat. “I'm sorry today of all days the mermaids came to reckon with you.”
“She tried to drown me!” Gwen cried, but her voice stayed sad and meek. Nothing humbled a girl like a betrayal, so swift and total.
“Nah, lass,” the swollen-faced and hoarse-voiced pirate told her. “If a mermaid tried to drown ye, ye'd be drowned.”
The other pirate agreed, “Oui, it's true. It's lucky that Capitan spotted you while we were hauling prisoners off the island.”
“Take us back to the ship, Fishface,” Starkey instructed.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” he croaked.
“No…” Gwen objected, weak and in pain. “I need to find Peter. I need his help.”
“You need rest,” Starkey told her. “You're not a child, Gwen. You can't run around pretending you're invincible. Your head needs time to recover. You've got bump the size of a blueberry there.” He put his hand on her head and checked the swelling again. She pulled back and yelped—her injury was unbearably sore to the touch.
The boat whizzed along, the lightweight craft bouncing as it pushed past the moderate waves of the sea's surface. A wretched feeling of nausea seized her. The jarring motion of the boat in conjunction with her dizzying headache made her feel trapped on a roller coaster that spun and moved in opposing directions
She couldn't argue with Starkey while the wind whipped by, too loud and fast to hold a conversation. She held tight to the boat's ropes, fearing she would fall off if they hit a large enough wave. The boat continued to crash through the surf toward the towering Grammarian, and the cannonfire bellowed on the other side.
The crew saw them approach, and threw down the ladder. “Lacroix, hold her steady. You go up first, Fishface,” Starkey told the ugly pirate. “Gwen and I will follow.”
She watched Fishface Fletcher effortlessly climb the ladder. She envisioned herself trying to get up, one rung at a time, like a sloth on a bad day. She didn't think she could make it. She started trying to count the rungs, but she already knew there were too many. She hadn't even tested to see if she could stand yet
Lacroix kept the landing craft beside the hull of the ship. Starkey could stand, but he kneeled down and took her arms, wrapping her around him. “Just hold onto me, Gwen. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, I think so,” she answered.
He stood, pulling her into a piggyback. Starkey went to the ladder and started up, his climbing slowed by her weight on his back and shoulders. He ascended at a steady pace, and although he couldn't spare the breath to give Gwen assurances, she felt completely safe. She held tight to Starkey and told herself that if he had the strength to carry her up the ladder, she could find the strength to hang on. She closed her eyes and held them shut, trying to block out her fears.
After a minute, they reached the top of the ship where mates helped them aboard. Gwen felt Starkey shrugging her off, and saw as Jimmy Sloat's four-fingered hand reached out and helped her to her feet.
Standing on the boat deck, Gwen slumped against the side of the boat to keep her balance. Jimmy Sloat began giving Starkey a full report of the battle's status—the siege had gone well. The crew was ready to sail up to the naval ship and board it for a proper pillaging.
“No,” Starkey told them. “They've got more manpower than we do and we'll need every man we have aboard the Grammarian if their main ship turns its attention to us. Finish them. Sink them like the first, and gather whatever flotsam the crew makes of itself. Who's at the helm?”
“Hangnail is, Captain,” Jimmy Sloat answered.
“Hurry up with that cannonball!” Madman Mulligan screeched from the other side of the ship.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Mr. Grouse exclaimed, confused and flustered as he lugged the iron ball over to the four pirates manning one of the cannons. The poor janitor had little experience with sailing, let alone eighteenth-century naval warfare. Twill, on the other hand, seemed in his element. The tiny boy, in an unbuttoned waist coat and pair of dirty trousers, ran over to the cannon with a bristled brush. Shoving it down the cannon's neck, he prepared it for another shot. He looked as sooty as a chimney cleaner, but his smile only stood out brighter for it.
Lacroix climbed aboard, abandoning the raft they'd commandeered as Starkey told Gwen, “You should lie down. If you can sleep, do. I'll check in on you as soon as I can.”
“I can't go to sleep! We're in the middle of a war!” Gwen declared.
“Yes—definitely a war,” Starkey agreed, distracted by everything aboard he needed to attend to. “And in wars there are casualties. Right now, you're one of them. Take it easy before you become a fatality. I'd be a poor teacher if I let one of my best students get killed in this hubbub.”
Fishface Fletcher took her arm, preparing to guide her away from the hectic deck and to quieter quarters. Gwen wouldn't stand for it. “You don't understand!” she exclaimed. “They've got a mermaid leading them to the Never Tree! She cut a deal with the black coats and now she's got legs and is taking them to the Never Tree. I have to find Peter.”
This got their attention, and Gwen felt the urge to take back what she'd just said. This detail engrossed and troubled the pirates.
“The Anomalous Activity Department made a deal with a mermaid?” Starkey asked, as if hoping a clarification would contradict his understanding of the statement.
“That's what she said.”
No one said anything, until Lacroix's blond mustache twitched and he asked, “What's the plan, Captain?”
“Sink that ship, and do it fast,” Starkey told him, his voice steeling with a hardness Gwen had never heard in it before. “I'm afraid we have much less time than we had anticipated. Now get to your posts!”
Lacroix, Jimmy Sloat, and Fishface Fletcher took off. Starkey took hold of Gwen and hurried her along in the other direction, explaining as he did so. “If she's no longer a mermaid we might have a chance, but if she struck that deal while she still had the favor of the stars… Neverland has no hope.”
“But Peter—”
“Even Peter has his limitations, not that he knows them or will heed them when he finds them.”
“What does that mean?” Gwen objected. She felt faint trying to keep pace with Starkey.
“It means we may have to leave very quickly if those do-gooders turn the tables on us.”
“Leave? We can't abandon Neverland!”
“Gwen, if they find the Never Tree, there won't be a Neverland left to abandon.”
They approached the captain's quarters and Starkey pulled out a dark but golden key. Unlocking the door, he ushered Gwen in, and Starkey told her, “If that happens, you can't risk getting caught on the island. The children are one thing—you're practically an adult, Gwendolyn. If the Anomalous Activity Department captures the tree and then finds you, you'll be worse off than any of them.”
The daylight made his quarters bright and charming. If not for the cannon fire punctuating the sound and sway of the sea, it would have been peaceful. Gwen looked back at Starkey, and saw him still standing in the doorway.
“But—they won't find it! Lasiandra was a mermaid. How could mermaids know where on land the Never Tree grows?”
“That,” Starkey announced, “is a story too long to tell, and one that never should have been written in the first place.”
“Then I need to find Peter right now!” she insisted.
“I'm sorry, Gwen,” Starkey announced, key still in his hand, “but you need to stay safe.”
He started to close the door and Gwen screamed, “No!”
She raced back to the door, but Starkey drew it shut faster. The slam had hardly finished reverberating before his key had locked it shut again. Gwen reached the door only in time to slam against it in a fury. Only her shouts could get through the solid door.
“Mr. Starkey! Come back! Let me out!” Gwen howled, but he didn't respond. He had already left to tend to the battle at hand. Losing her breath, Gwen slumped against the door and sat on the floor, kidnapped by pirates.