From time to time, when I was a younger man, I would return from sea for a brief visit with my family. Those times I came home to find they had thrown a party were always a surprise—to them.

How my parents hated when my unexpected arrival put a damper on their festivities.

When Jocelyn returned with her men to the Hook’s Revenge, she found that Nubbins was nearly finished preparing a celebratory feast. In her honor. How strange.

If the girl was hardly in the mood for a party, she was the only one. The men attacked their food with gusto, noisily sucking their fingers and belching loud enough to rattle the trenchers. They sang while they ate, spewing bits of half-chewed meat all over the table. When a Loudest Flatulence contest broke out, Jocelyn excused herself to the far end of the galley, where she sat alone. She almost missed the quiet dining hall at Miss Eliza’s.

Mr. Smee joined her. “Your mum didn’t like pirate feasts all that much either.”

The empty place in Jocelyn’s heart sat up and began paying attention. “Is that why she left my father?”

Smee wriggled in his seat. “I’m not supposed—”

“Mr. Smee, as your captain, I order you to tell me what you know about my mother.”

“But miss—”

“Spill it, you dirty, stinking bilge rat!”

Smee beamed at her. “Aye, Captain, thank you, sir! Your mum—lovely girl, she was. She looked a gentlewoman through and through, but she was a pirate at the core. Who else could have stolen the captain’s heart?”

That was certainly not how Sir Charles had ever described his daughter. To hear her grandfather speak, Evelina had been as perfect and pure as a newborn baby angel.

“I believe they truly were happy. For a while, anyways. But then came the end. It was the same old story. The captain never did care much for high society teas, and though we couldn’t understand it, Miss Evelina got tired of plunder and murder. She left for home with a small bit of pirate’s gold in her purse and…well, a surprise of sorts. You were born later that year.”

Smee and Jocelyn lapsed into thoughtfulness. Their silence was broken by One-Armed Jack, whose lusty retelling of the adventure in the cave went awry when he tripped over his own feet and landed in Smee’s lap. Jack didn’t miss a beat, jumping up and continuing his tale, but when he got to the part where Jocelyn froze, he paused, looking confused. “Cap’n, what did happen back there?” he asked. “Why didn’t you strike the monster?”

“None of your business, you stinking codfish! I am the captain—how dare you question me?”

Smee looked fit to burst with pride. “That’s telling him, miss! You’re shaping up to be every bit a captain as your old dad. If you want me to get out the cat-o’-nine, just say the word.”

Before the men could start lining up for their chance to be lashed, Jocelyn stormed off to the main deck. There she stood, alone at the bow, thinking about the crocodile. Jocelyn recalled being in the dinghy, sword at the ready, victory in her sights and then…it all fell apart.

For the briefest of moments she thought she heard the faint ticking of a clock, but then the wind changed direction and carried the sound away.

She opened her locket and looked at her father’s picture. “I am trying so hard to be the kind of captain you were, but how can I do what you could not?” she whispered. “Perhaps I’m not exactly suited for pirating, like my mother.” But if Jocelyn couldn’t be a pirate, what would she do?

A tear fell on her locket, landing on her father’s face. It was quite possibly the first to be present there. It looked absurd on his cheek. Jocelyn dried the locket on her sleeve and snapped it closed. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she looked to the horizon. Somewhere out there, the beast lurked.

It had stolen her father from her. It had made her look foolish in front of her men. It was a monster, a danger to anyone it came in contact with. The girl gathered her resolve. One failure may have rattled her, but she would not surrender.

Time was running out for the crocodile.

I’ve found that, occasionally, a good cry is really all that is needed. They don’t even have to be my own tears to be therapeutic. Making another person miserable enough to hiccup and sob generally does the trick for me, but to each his own.

After taking a few moments to compose herself, Jocelyn returned to the galley to find her somewhat subdued men getting acquainted with Dirty Bob. With the exception of Mr. Smee (who surely knew better than to be taken in by the braggart’s fancy talk), the crew fawned over him like a bunch of starry-eyed schoolgirls.

“Is it true you were marooned? You lucky devil!”

“Can you explain exactly what ‘bucko’ means?”

“Tell us about your days sailing with Hook! What was he really like?”

That last question was a particular affront to poor Mr. Smee. He muttered quietly to Johnny, “Why, we sailed with the captain for years. Who knows him better than his own bo’sun? No one, that’s who.”

Jocelyn smoothed his ruffled feathers by asking for advice. “Mr. Smee, I have unfinished business with the crocodile. It is clear that none of the other men know how to find it, but I have a feeling you might be able to come up with something that will help.”

“Of course, of course. Let me think.…” He removed his spectacles and polished them on the hem of his shirt. As he had recently employed his hem as a replacement for his handkerchief, they came up quite a bit dirtier than before. “Let’s see…Tiger Lily, the Indian princess, might have warriors of some sort that can track the beast for us. We could kidnap her and force her to help us.”

“Excellent idea, Smee, though I’m not sure kidnapping is in order. Perhaps we can simply ask her for help?”

“Ask her? I don’t know, miss. The captain would’ve kidnapped her. Asking doesn’t seem to be very sporting.”

“All right, then, kidnapping it is. Polish the manacles and let’s be on our way.”

Like a puppy seeking attention, the main island of the Neverland crept closer during the night. If the girl hadn’t already planned her return, she likely would have found the entire landmass wriggling in her lap, begging for a belly rub. Instead of days, the return voyage took no more than a few hours.

Jocelyn explained to the men that she would be leading an expedition to Tiger Lily’s village. “Mr. Smee will accompany. Are there any other volunteers?”

She expected them to jump at a chance for more adventures, but only Dirty Bob stepped forward. The rest of the men stared at the deck.

“What is the matter with you dogs?” she snapped. “I thought you were thirsting for adventure!”

One-Armed Jack answered. “Um, Cap’n? We can’t go. Her village is too close to Peter’s camp.”

“Whose camp?” Jocelyn asked.

“Don’t you know Peter Pan, the leader of the lost boys?”

“That irritating flying boy? What does he have to do with anything?” Jocelyn asked.

Jack shuffled his feet. “We haven’t gone anywhere near his camp, Cap’n—not since we were boys. We’ve been banished.”