Peter Pan - The Pirate Ship

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
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Peter Pan by J. M. Barry, Chapter fourteen, The Pirate
Ship one green light squinting over Kidd's Creek, which is

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near the mouth of the Pirate River, marked where the
brig the Jolly Roger lay low in the water, a
rakish looking craft, foul to the hull, every beam in
her detestable like ground, strewn with mangled feathers. She was
the cannibal of the seas, and scarce needed that watchful eye,
for she floated immune in the horror of her name.
She was wrapped in the blanket of night, through which

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no sound from her could have reached the shore. There
were little sound, and none agreeable, save the whirr of
the ship's sewing machine, at which Smee sat, ever industrious
and obliging the essence of the commonplace pathetic Smee. I
know not why he was so infinitely pathetic, unless it
were because he was so pathetically unaware of it. But
even strong men had to turn hastily from looking at him,

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and more than once on summer evenings, he had touched
the fount of Hook's tears and made it flow. Of this,
as of almost everything else, Smee was quite unconscious. A
few of the pirates lent over the bulwarks, drinking in
the miasma of the night. Others sprawled by barrels over
games of dice and cards. And the exhausted four who
had carried the little house lay prone on the deck,

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where even in their sleep they rolled skillfully to this
side or that, out of Hook's reach, lest he should
claw them mechanically. In passing, Hook trod the deck in thought,
oh Man unfathomable. It was his hour of triumph. Peter
had been removed forever from his path, and all the
other boys were in the brig about to walk the plank.
It was his grimcet deed since the days when he

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had brought a barbecue to heal. And, knowing as we do,
how vain a tabernacle is manned, could we be surprised?
Had he now paced the deck unsteadily, bellied out by
the wind of his success. But there was no elation
in his gait, which kept pace with the action of
his somber mind. Hook was profoundly dejected. He was often

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thus when communing with himself on board ship in the
quietude of the night. It was because he was so
terribly alone. This inscrubable man never felt more alone than
once surrounded by his dogs. They were socially inferior to him.
Hook was not his true name. To reveal who he
really was, would even at this date, set the country
in a blaze. But as those who read between the

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lines must already have get, he had been at a
famous public school, and its tradition still clung to him
like garments with which indeed they are largely concerned. Thus
it was offensive to him even now to board a
ship in the same dress in which he brackled her.
And he still appeared to his walk to the school's
distinguished slouch. But above all he retained the passion for
in good form, good form. However much he may have degenerated,

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he still knew that this is all that really matters.
From far within him, we heard a creaking as of
rusty portals, and through them came a stern tap tap tap,
like hammering in the night when one cannot sleep. Have
you been good form today? Was their eternal question. Fame, Fame,
that glittering bauble, It is mine, he cried. It's quite

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good form to be distinguished at anything. The tap tap
from his school replied, I am the only man whom
barbecue feared here, and flint feared barbecue, barbecue, flint? What
house in the cutting retort, most disquieting reflection of all,
was it not a bad form to think about good form?
His vitals were tortured by this problem. It was a

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claw within him, sharper than the iron one, And as
it tore him, the perspiration dripped down his tallow countenance
and streaked his doublets. Oft times he drew his sleeve
across his face, but there was no damning that trickle
ah and be not. Hook. There came to him a
presentiment of his early dissolution. It was as if Peter's

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terrible oath had boarded the ship. Hook felt a gloomy
desire to make his dying speech, lest presently there should
be no time for it. Better for Hook, he cried,
if he had had less ambition, It was in his
darkest hours only that he referred to himself and the
third person. No little children to love me. Strange that

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he should think of this, which I had never troubled
him before. Perhaps the sewing machine brought it to his mind.
For long he muttered to himself, staring at Smee, who
was hemming placidly under the conviction that all children feared him,
feared him, feared Smee. There was not a child on
board the brig that night who did not already love him.
He had said horrid things to them and hit them

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the palm of his hand because he could not hit
with his fist, but they had only clung to him.
The more. Michael had tried on his spectacles to tell
poor Smee that they thought him lovable. Hook itched to
do it, but it seemed too brutal. Instead, he revolved
this mystery in his mind. Why do they find Smee lovable?
He pursued the problem like the sleuthhound that he was.

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If Smee was lovable, what was it that made him so?
A terrible answer suddenly presented itself. Good form had the
bots in good form without knowing it, which is the
best form of all. He remembered that you have to
prove you don't know you have it before you're eligible
for pop. With a cry of rage, he raised his

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iron hand over Smee's head, but he did not take tear.
What arrested him was this reflection to claw man, because
he is good form, what would that be bad form?
The unhappy hook was as impotent as he was damp,
and he fell forward like a cut flower, his dog's
thinking him out of the way for a time. Discipline

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instantly relaxed, and they broke into a bacchanalian dance, which
brought him poo his feet. At once all traces of
human weakness gone, as if a bucket of water had
passed over him. Why at you scug? He cried, Or
I'll cast anchor in you? And at once the din
was hushed. Are all the children chained so that they
cannot fly away? Aye? Aye? Then hoist them up? The

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wretched prisoners were dragged from the hold, all except Wendy,
and ranged in line in front of him. For a
time he seemed unconscious of their presence. He lulled at
his ease, humming not unloadiously snatches of a rude song,
and fingering a pack of cards. Ever and anon, the
light from a cigar gave a touch of color to
his face. Now, then bullize, he said, briskly. Six of

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you will walk the plank tonight. But I have room
for two cabin boys. Which of you is it to be?
Don't irritate him? Unnecessarily have been Wendy's instructions in the hold,
so Tootles stepped forward politely. Tootles hated the idea of
signing under such a man, but an instinct told him
that it would be prudent to lay the responsibility on
an absent person. And though a somewhat silly boy, he

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knew that mothers alone are always willing to be the buffer.
All children know this about mothers and despise them for it,
but make constant use of it. So Toodles explained prudently.
You see, sir, I don't think my mother would like
me to be a pirate? Would your mother like you
to be a pirate? Slightly? He winked it slightly who
said mournfully, I don't think so, as if he wished

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things had been otherwise. Would your mother like you to
be a pirate? Twin? I don't think so, said the
first twin, as clever as the other's nibs would stow.
This gab roared, Hook and the spokesman were dragged back.
You boy, he said, addressing John, you look as if
you had a little pluck in you. Did stever want
to be a pirate? My hearty? Now John had sometimes

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experienced this hankering at maths prep, and he was stuck
by Hook picking him out. I once thought of my
calling myself red handed Jack, he said, difftantly, and a
good name too. We'll call you that here, Bully. If
you join, What do you think, Michael asked John? What
would you call me if I join? Michael demanded Blackbeard Joe.

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Michael was naturally impressed. What do you think, John? He
wanted John to decide, and John wanted him to decide.
Shall we still be respectful subjects at the king? John
inquired brow Hook's teeth came the answer, you would have
to swear down with the king. Perhaps John had not
behaved very well so far, but he's shown out now.

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Then I refuse, he cried, banging the barrel in front
of Hook. And I refuse, cried Michael. Rule. Bertania speaked Billy.
The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth, and Hook
roared out that seals your doom, and bring up their mother.
Get the plank ready. They were only boys, and they
went white as they saw Jukes and check out preparing

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the fatal plank. But they tried to look brave when
Wendy was brought up. No words of mine can tell
you how Wendy despised these pirates. To the boys. There
was at least some glamour in the pirate calling, but
all that she saw was that the ship had not
been tidied for years. There was not a porthole the
griming glass of which you might not have written with
your finger, dirty pig, And she had already written it

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on several But as the boys gathered round her, she
had no thought, of course, save for them. So, my beauty,
said Hook, as if he spoke in syrup. You are
to see your children walk the plank. Fine gentleman, though
he was, the intensity of his communings had soiled his rough,
and suddenly he knew that she was gazing at it.

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With a hasty gesture, he tried to hide it, but
he was too late. Are they to die? Asked Wendy,
with a look of such frightful contempt that he nearly fainted.
They are, he snarled. Silence all he cried gloatingly for
a mother's last words to her children at this moment,
Wendy was grand. These are my last words, dear boys,

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she said firmly. I feel that I have a message
to you from your real mothers, and it is this.
We hope our sons will die like English gentlemen. Even
the pirates were odd and Toodles cried out hysterically, I
am going to do what to my mother? Hopes? What
are you to do? Nis? What's my mother hopes? What
are you to do? Twin? What's my mother hopes? John?

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But Hook had found his voice again. Tie her up,
he shouted. It was Smee tied her to the mast.
See here, honey, he whispered, I'll see to you if
you promised to be my mother. But not even for
Smee would she make such a promise. I would almost
rather have no children at all, she said, disdainfully. It
is sad to know that not a boy was looking

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at her as Smee tied her to the mast. The
eyes of all were on the plank that last little
walk they were about to take. They were no longer
able to hope that they would walk it manfully, for
the capacity to think had gone from them. They could
stare and shiver. Only Hook smiled on them with his
teeth closed, and took a step toward Wendy. His intention
was to turn her face so that she should see

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the boys walking the plank one by one. But he
never reached her. He never heard the cry of anguish
he hoped to wring from her. He heard something else instead.
It was the terrible stick pick of the crocodile. They
all heard it. Pirates, boys, Wendy, and immediately every head

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was blown in one direction, not to the water, whence
the sound proceeded, but toward Hook. All knew that what
was about to happen concerned him alone, and that from
being actors there were suddenly becoming spectators. Very frightful was
it to see the change that came over him. It
was as if he had been clipped at every joint.
He fell in a little heat. The sound came steadily nearer,

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and in advance of it came this ghastly thought the
crocodile was about to board the ship. Even the iron
claw hung inactive, as if knowing that it was no
intrinsic part of the attacking force wanted let left so
fearfully alone. Any other man would lane with his eyes
shut where he fell. But the gigantic brain of Hook
was still working, and under its guidance, he crawled on

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the knees along the deck as far from the sound
as he could go. The pirates respectfully clear to pass
for him, and it was only when he brought up
against the bulwarks that he spoke, hide me, he cried hoarsely.
They gathered around him, all eyes averted from the thing
that was coming on board. They had no thought of
fighting it. It was fate. Only when Hook was hidden

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from them did curiosity loosen the limbs of the boys
so that they could rush to the ship's side to
see the crocodile climbing it. Then they got the strange
surprise of the night nights, for it was no crocodile
that was coming to their aid. It was Peter. He
signed them not to give vent to any cry of admiration.
It might arise suspicion. Then he went on ticking. End

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Chapter fourteen.