Hook’s Revenge The Pirate Code

Many people love surprises, though I am not one, as the friends and family who once attempted to throw me a surprise birthday party could attest. I don’t care what the magistrate said; when a group of people burst forth from hiding in a dark room screaming “Surprise!” and throwing confetti, any reasonable person would have perceived it as a threat and taken measures to defend himself. I am nothing if not reasonable.

Speaking of fires (we were, weren’t we?), Tiger Lily signaled to the women to pull the meat from the flames and serve her guests. They carved hunks of smoking roast buffalo, piling them, along with sweet wild onion and some root vegetable Jocelyn couldn’t identify, into giant abalone-shell bowls. The meal was hot and rich, and Jocelyn felt it was the best she had ever eaten. She attacked it with gusto, relishing every bite and wiping the evidence on her new jacket sleeves. Meriwether perched on the edge of her bowl, finishing off her vegetables when she was too full to eat another bite.

Roger only picked at his food, distracted, but across the fire the rest of Jocelyn’s crew seemed to be having a wonderful time. They had a group of young women gathered round and were no doubt regaling them with tales of their exploits and cunning. One-Armed Jack had replaced his prosthetic arm again, trading his butterfly net for a short spear decorated with intricate beadwork. He seemed to be in the midst of some exciting tale, and he gesticulated wildly, nearly taking off the nose of an older woman trying to serve him more meat. Jocelyn hoped he got the hang of it before he injured someone.

As the meal wound down, the village boys added more wood to the flames and took up their poking again. Roger watched them mournfully until Jocelyn brought him a peace offering by way of a new stick. Roger grinned, their skirmish all but forgotten.

Meriwether, on the other hand, developed a sudden foul mood. The fairy gave the boy a jealous pinch on the arm and flew to the top of a nearby tipi. The spot afforded him a perfect angle for flashing his light in Roger’s eyes.

Jocelyn laughed off his bad behavior and reclaimed her seat between Evie and Roger. “Look at him! Jealousy is such a ridiculous emotion!”

Before Roger could reply, Tiger Lily stood and walked to the center of the circle of benches. The fire was at her back, darkening her features until she looked more shadow than girl. A sudden hush came over the camp. The flames danced higher and higher, and a feeling of expectation hung in the air. Somewhere outside the camp borders a wolf howled. Tiger Lily’s pup answered with a howl of her own. Jocelyn’s blood pumped. She had the wild urge to raise her voice and join in.

“It is time for the evening’s entertainment,” Tiger Lily announced. “First, we will have Two Bears reenact today’s battle in song and dance.” A drum beat out a rhythm, and Jocelyn’s heart kept time. The warrior’s movements were smooth, fluid. Jocelyn felt as if she could read the entire fight in the motion of his body. He flicked his hand and she saw Peter scratch a man with his short dagger. He spun in a circle and Jocelyn saw her own arrival, leading the pirate crew. He swayed and bent, and Jocelyn saw an arrow graze a lost boy’s backside as he retreated. His skill was mesmerizing.

No one applauded when he finished, but the silence held more awe and respect for his performance than a standing ovation. The very wind through the trees cried bravo, and the stars above cheered.

The girl was startled from her enraptured state when Tiger Lily motioned toward her. “And now our guests will entertain us.”

Jim McCraig jumped to his feet and said something unintelligible. His parrot translated by repeating it more loudly.

“Quiet that infernal chicken,” Mr. Smee said. “Beggin’ your pardon, Captain, but Jim is volunteering to favor us all with a song.”

Jocelyn liked Jim’s singing, particularly because it was the only time she could understand a word out of his mouth. Yet, after that magical performance, she couldn’t offer something quite so ordinary to Tiger Lily’s people.

“Thank you, Jim,” she said “but I think I would like to do this one myself.” After all, her voice had tamed a mermaid, and that was not something just anyone could say.

She got to her feet and faced Tiger Lily. “This is a song that my grandfather sang to me at night when I was young.” She cleared her throat and began to sing in her clear, high soprano:

Over the mountains

And over the waves,

Under the fountains

And under the graves…

Evie stood and joined her, adding a rich alto harmony that blended beautifully with Jocelyn’s voice. Even so, Jocelyn glared at her in irritation. This was supposed to be a solo! She fumbled over the next word but, not wanting to disappoint her audience, recovered and sang on.

Under floods that are deepest,

Which Neptune must obey,

Over rocks that are steepest,

Love will find out the way.

Both girls slowed their tempo and repeated the last line, imbuing the song with a sweet tenderness, just as Sir Charles always had. A sudden longing for home, to see her grandfather again, pricked Jocelyn’s heart.

The last notes echoed through the air. The music had been so transporting that Jocelyn had forgotten her audience, but she saw them now. They smiled at her, respect for the music showing on their faces. More than one person had been moved to tears. Jocelyn gathered Evie into a quick hug. She felt a sudden kinship with her, born of their harmony.

They rejoined Roger on their bench, and the next performance began. A group of men, with bells strapped to their wrists and ankles, danced in the moonlight. It sounded like an entire crowd of fairies, all clamoring for attention.

Meriwether settled onto Jocelyn’s head to watch, softly ringing in appreciation.

The tinkling bells of the dancers kept Meriwether’s attention so well, he didn’t attempt to retaliate.

“Thank you, Roger.” Evie spoke over her. “It was pretty good, wasn’t it?”

“And I like it! I really do, Jocelyn! It’s just that the two of you together, well, that was something extra special.”

Any feelings of goodwill Jocelyn had felt toward Evie popped like a soap bubble. “Yes, well, Evie appears to be good at stealing the show.”

“Oh, Jocelyn, I’m sorry! That was awful of me, wasn’t it? But when I heard that song, I couldn’t stay silent. My father sang it to me when I was a little girl, telling me his lullaby would keep any bad dreams away.”

The dancers picked up the pace, the rhythm of their bells and their pounding feet beating a staccato tempo that Jocelyn felt all the way to her bones.

Evie reached over and pulled Jocelyn’s hand into her own. “If I had had a little sister, I think I would have liked her to be someone very much like you.”

“I’m not sure a sister could look more like you than Jocelyn already does,” Roger said.

Thoughts started to tumble in the girl’s mind. She and Evie did look similar—very similar. And they knew the same song, sung to each of them to keep bad dreams away. Evie…She couldn’t be. Could she?

“Your name…is it…” Jocelyn swallowed, her throat dry. “Is Evie short for something?”

Evie flashed the dimples in her cheeks. “It is! My full name is Evelina Helene Hopewell. How did you guess?”

Jocelyn stared at her, caught in a war between fascination and horror. A fitting reaction, I think, to standing face-to-face with a young girl—only a year older than yourself—who also happens to be your mother.