One does not always know the worst possible scenario until one is faced with it. Up until recently, if you were to have asked me the most dreadful way to spend an afternoon, I would have said swabbing the splintery deck of the largest galleon in the Portuguese fleet, under a blistering hot sun, using my tongue for a mop—but that was before I’d spent any time with you.
Just as I have come to adjust my idea of terrible ways to while away an afternoon, Jocelyn needed to adjust her worst-case thoughts regarding the Jolly Roger. In the few seconds between when the question formed on her lips and the answer came forth from Smee’s, she’d feared that he would tell her the ship had sunk, making the search for her father’s portrait rather difficult. Still, the idea of recovering the ship from deep inside Davy Jones’s locker was far more appealing than having to ask that irritating Peter Pan about it.
And yet Jocelyn was never one to shy away from a job to be done, no matter how awful, so she made up her mind to go find Pan and learn from him what she must. As Roger and most of the crew at one time or another had all been lost boys, and as each had been banished by Peter Pan, Jocelyn decided to go alone. It would be hard enough getting that boy to tell her what she needed to know without bringing banished lost boys into his camp.
By the time the ship was securely hidden in the cove, and after everyone had taken a few hours’ rest, it was early afternoon, and Jocelyn could put off the task no longer. As the girl made ready to go, Mr. Smee pulled her aside.
“With all the fluster and fuss over getting away from Krueger,” he said, “I nearly forgot to give you this.” Smee presented her with a soft parcel wrapped in brown paper.
“What is it?” she asked, but didn’t wait for a reply before tearing the package open. Inside was a new white dress—extra long so as to give plenty of yardage for tearing away sections of hem, as the need might arise—and a jacket, similar in styling to the one that had belonged to her father, but sized to the girl, and in her favorite shade of blue. The clothes were so perfectly suited to Jocelyn’s needs and taste that she couldn’t restrain herself from throwing her arms around Mr. Smee in a hug.
“There’s no need for that, miss,” he said. “I’d accept a kick to my backside as thanks enough.” He patted her back awkwardly, then pulled away. “Anyway, I did it as much for myself as for you. I couldn’t have anyone thinking I wasn’t doing right by my captain. That wouldn’t serve at all now, would it?”
Jocelyn made her face look stern. “No. Not at all, Mr. Smee. Glad to see you have remedied the situation at last.”
He beamed with gratitude. “Thank you, Cap’n. Oh, and I made some new things for your young navigator as well. He’s down below now, putting them on.”
Jocelyn slipped into her cabin to do the same. When she emerged, the whole crew gathered around to see her off. She twirled for them, showing off her new skirts, and they clapped appreciatively, though none louder than Roger.
She stopped to take a look at his new clothing. He was attired in a linen shirt with broad blue and white stripes, which made a striking contrast against his brown skin. Even better, however, were his remarkable new breeches. Smee had nearly gone overboard in his application of pockets: front pockets, side pockets, back pockets, knee pockets, hem pockets. Pockets sized to carry a single coin and pockets large enough to fit a spyglass, fully extended. Expandable pockets. Pockets inside pockets. And one custom-sized to fit his compass. The boy reached into it, withdrew its contents, and pressed the familiar cool brass case into Jocelyn’s hands, along with his Neverland map. “Here, take these with you, so you don’t get lost.”
“Thank you, Roger. I’ll take good care of them.”
“I know you will. But take good care of yourself, too.” He gave her his just-for-Jocelyn smile. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?”
She did, but she was the captain. There were things she simply had to do on her own. “I’ll be fine. I’d best get this over with.”
After receiving a few last-minute directions on how to find Peter’s camp, she had little to do but leave. Jocelyn stood still while Meriwether gave her a thorough coating of fairy dust.
Roger tugged at her new jacket. “Have fun,” he said with a wink. “Don’t forget about us.”
Jocelyn grinned. “Not a chance.”
Jocelyn hoped she never got used to the feeling of flying. Once you were used to something, it threatened to become routine, perhaps even dull. But how could the ability to lift off from the earth, breaking all the laws of gravity—oh, how the girl loved to break things—ever become mundane?
She took her time, playing tag with flocks of birds on their afternoon migration and punching holes in clouds. Even so, like all good things, it was over far too quickly, and she found herself outside Peter’s camp. Between Roger’s directions, the map, and the compass, it hadn’t been difficult at all to uncover.
A nearby wood held a flurry of lost boy activity. So engrossed were they, the boys didn’t notice Jocelyn watching. A lost boy wearing jackalope fur—Jocelyn recognized him as Ace—was high in a magnolia tree, attempting to build a tree house. Things did not appear to be going well, as he was trying to construct the main support by sticking branches together with nothing more than spit and hope.
Fredo, still wearing a far-too-small jacket of pieced-together squirrel skins, stood below the tree and hollered, “How about we use this for the floor, Ace?” He held up a leaf nearly as large as himself. Fredo attached it to a dangling rope, and Ace hauled it up, laying the leaf between two tree limbs. It sagged in the middle.
Ace scratched his head and surveyed the new floor. “It looks good, but do you think it will hold her? Mother doesn’t look very heavy.”
The twins, two boys who couldn’t have looked more different, were attempting to saw a log with a large white goose feather. They stopped and joined Fredo at the base of the tree.
“Let’s have the baby test it out,” the tall, dark twin suggested.
“Yes, let’s!” the short, ginger twin agreed. “Baby, get up there.”
The “baby” was a new addition to the lost boys since Jocelyn had seen them last. He looked to be a baby in the same way that the twins were twins. The boy must have been at least three, perhaps as old as four, and he was so sweet-looking that even Jocelyn, who was not particularly interested in young children, couldn’t help but stare. The child noticed her gaze and peered back with deep blue eyes rimmed in long lashes. He flashed a shy, secret smile, his teeth a row of perfect baby pearls.
Jocelyn wondered if a more angelic-looking child had ever graced the earth. She had only heard of one who could possibly contend—her own mother as a girl. This boy was a living embodiment of the perfection Jocelyn’s grandfather, Sir Charles, had always described.
The child toddled over and reached for her. She couldn’t resist scooping him up. He flashed those perfect pearls again before placing a chubby thumb into his sweet mouth.
“Oh, hey, it’s that girl. Hello, girl,” Fredo said. “Are you here to be our mother now?”
Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “You boys need to get over your preoccupation with mothers. It’s not healthy.” She shifted the little boy to a more comfortable position on her hip. “But to answer your question, no, I am not.”
“That’s good, since Peter already got us one. Right, Ace?” the ginger twin said.
“Right. And we are building her a little house of her very own, isn’t that right, Fredo?”
Jocelyn spoke before he could answer. “I’m glad you have a new mother, but I’m not here about that. I need—”
Fredo spoke right over her. “Right. And Mother is waiting in the home under the ground so as not to spoil the surprise.”
“Peter said girls love surprises. Almost as much as they love babies, right—”
“Yes, yes,” Jocelyn interrupted. “And now you will say, ‘Right, Baby?’ But I don’t really care. I—”
“Oh, no, girl.” The dark-haired twin’s eyes were wide. “We’d never ask the baby.”
“Tully isn’t allowed to talk,” the other explained.
Jocelyn scowled at him. “And why not? Because he has to pretend to be a baby? That’s ridiculous!” She turned her back on Ace and spoke only to the baby. “Tully, is it? Do you want to talk?”
Tully nodded his head, making his curls bounce.
“Don’t, girl!” Ace yelled, hurrying down the ladder.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Jocelyn yelled back. “Go ahead then, Tully.”
The little boy plucked his thumb from his mouth.
The lost boys edged away, covering their ears.
Tully opened his bow-shaped lips and released a stream of the loudest, shrillest, foulest words Jocelyn had ever heard. She nearly dropped the child in shock. It took him some minutes to exhaust his supply of curses, but once finished, he batted his long lashes and tucked his plump thumb back into his adorable mouth with a contented air.
The boys uncovered their ears. Jocelyn stood still, her jaw hanging open.
“We told you,” Ace said, shaking his head.
Jocelyn felt it best to change the subject. “Where is Peter?”
Fredo answered. “He went to get a present for Mother: Tiger Lily’s favorite, all-white, wolf pup.”
“Tiger Lily must think highly of Peter to give him such a gift,” Jocelyn said.
“She’s not going to give it to him…” said one twin with a chuckle.
“He’s going to steal it—right, Ace?” said the other.
“Right! That’s how Mother will know it means something.”
That was a perfect opening to the subject Jocelyn really wanted to talk about. “Speaking of stealing, I’m looking for my father’s ship, the Jolly Roger. Peter was the last to have it. Do you know where it is?”
The twins answered in unison. “We don’t. Do you know, Fredo?”
“I’ve never heard of it. Have you, Tully?”
“Don’t ask Tully!” the rest of the boys shouted together.
Tully smiled and graced them with a new series of swears, both classic and invented. Jocelyn put him down and took a step back, feeling faintly sick.
Ace uncovered his ears. “One time Peter told me about when he was a pirate and he killed another crew with his bare hands and took command of their ship. Then he sailed it all around the world, twice, and stayed up far past his bedtime. But I don’t know what he did with it when he was done.”
Jocelyn sighed. She had hoped to avoid meeting with Peter Pan altogether. “I suppose I’ll simply have to ask him myself.”
As if he had been summoned, Peter Pan flew between the tree branches. The small amount of headway Ace had made on the tree house came crashing to the ground in his wake. Pan landed in front of Jocelyn, a wriggling white wolf pup in his arms. “Ask me what?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and greeted the lost boys. “Good news, boys! The raid was a success. I have the white wolf!” He held up the pup so they could get a good look at her. She let out a mournful howl.
Peter set her on the ground, placed his hands on his hips, and turned to Jocelyn, acting as if he had just noticed her. “Oh, hello, girl. Are you here to have a war? I’m busy tonight. Can you come back Tuesday?”
I have it on the highest authority that Peter had just learned about Tuesdays and was eager to show off his great knowledge. But Jocelyn, as ever, was unimpressed with him.
“I simply wanted to ask you a question. Mr. Smee said you took command of the Jolly Roger after my father died.”
He gnashed his teeth and spat, “That’s a dirty lie!”
Jocelyn hated to flatter the boy, but finding her father’s ship was the first step in finding the treasure. She needed whatever was behind that portrait in order to translate the map. “So you didn’t become a great pirate captain and steal the ship of the most feared man to ever live?”
Peter smiled. “I certainly did! Anyone who says I didn’t is a liar.”
“Right. So where is the Jolly Roger now?” she asked.
“I told you, I didn’t take it. And it should be right where I left it.”
Jocelyn felt a headache coming on. “Which is where, exactly?”
Peter scratched his head. “Let me think.…Oh yes! In the middle of Notgonna.”
“Notgonna?” she asked, reaching for Roger’s map.
“Yeah. Not gonna tell you!” Pan laughed so hard he nearly choked. “Come on, boys, let’s go give our mother her new puppy.”
Peter picked up the wolf pup and, without a backward glance, walked away, the lost boys trailing in his wake. Tully brought up the rear. He opened and closed his hand in a babylike wave, bidding Jocelyn a sweet farewell.
She ground her teeth and muttered a few of the new words she’d learned.