Peter’s eyes followed the captain as he turned on his heel and began to take over the task of supervising the crew. The man acted as if nothing had happened, as if nothing could perturb him. But the softness of his voice after he spoke to Peter gave more away than this professional façade. Peter pitied the man. This was a shocking revelation for him to admit to himself. He was always so wrapped up in his own problems or taking care of the Lost Boys that there was little room in his underdeveloped mind for useless things such as sympathy. Yet there he stood watching Hook having to force his emotions about his lost friend down in order to keep the ship running, and Peter felt bad about what happened. Bad about what he actively covered up.
The rest of the day Peter set about working harder than he ever had before. Perhaps it was to shake the cloud of guilt hovering over his head. Or it could have been a way of making subliminal amends to Hook regarding his loss. Either way the redhead was spotted busying himself in nearly every corner of the ship. He cleaned the captain’s quarters until the polished wood shone with his own reflection. He took inventory and organized the entirety of the armory. He lent a hand in the kitchen, cutting prep time by about half. He even took on the revolting task of emptying the crew’s chamber pots below deck.
By the time he was finished running around, the sun had well made its descent past the horizon giving way to dusk. The boy never felt the weight of his sleep deprivation from the night before while he was working off pure momentum all day, but now his eyelids were heavy and his body sluggish. With a sleepy exaggerated yawn, Peter began to make his way below deck to the crew’s quarters. Before he descended, however, he caught a glimpse of the captain standing at the helm. His eyes were trained on the massive expanse of sea before them. He looked over his shoulder in the direction where Hook gazed. There was nothing to see. Peter looked once more toward the captain. His facial expression was hard to make out from this distance, but his body looked stiff, unmoving. The boy debated going over to say something. But what could he possibly say? What comfort could he offer? That pang of guilty sent a chill through his body again. He ignored it though and decided that the captain was best left alone with his thoughts.
When he returned to his hammock, he saw that once again Simon remained awake while the others slept. He sighed and asked tentatively, [#228B22 “You alright?”] The blond boy nodded but did not respond. [#228B22 “Well, it’s like I said: this is all about to blow over anyways. I saw Hook just now. I think he knows what happened.”] At the sudden widening of Simon’s eyes, he quickly continued, [#228B22 “I just mean he knows that Henry’s dead, s’all. Not that you did it.”] Simon winced at this bluntness. Peter was worried that he might start up crying again, but the other boy’s eyes were dry. Maybe he had no more tears left. Peter clapped a hand to his shoulder and offered him a half smile. [#228B22 “Cheer up, Simon. It’ll be okay. Try and get some rest, yeah?”] Though he still didn’t offer up anything to say, he leaned sideways and laid down. Peter clambered into his own hammock and plopped into it with a heavy sigh of relief. In spite of the scratchy material and surrounding snores of fellow crewmen, sleep took him almost instantly.
To say that Peter was grateful for the late start next morning would have been an understatement. Extreme fatigue from two consecutive days of hard labor finally caught up to him. He slept deeply that night. It took the Lost Boys a total of five minutes to rouse him when they were called to Mass. When they finally managed to get him up, the physical toll of the previous days also made itself known. He was sore and aching all over his body, the muscles tight and tense. Still, he managed to hobble his way to the congregational meeting with the rest of the crew.
The Lost Boys had never been to church before. They had a bare bone understanding of religion, but there was never much of it enforced in their orphanage. They didn’t even have Christmas. Brooks, their caretaker, looked down on the concept. He was convinced that it was a ridiculous thing to ask for a better lot in life to imaginary sky dwellers rather than facing problems head on. The bitter old man constantly countered religious boys with the same sneering statement, [#D2691E [i “If your god loves you so much, how do you suppose you ended up here?”]] Which, in Peter’s opinion, was a fair point. He himself didn’t really have an opinion one way or another on the subject. If anything, he, along with the other boys, did show mild interest in the proceedings of the church. Even if it was only out of pure curiosity.
Together, they watched with polite attentiveness as Hook ceremoniously passed the torch, so to speak, to Smee. Well, more or less. The captain ended up keeping the whip on account of the Irishman’s clumsiness. That was likely for the best though. Then, the captain began his eulogy on Henry. Peter felt Simon tensing up by his side and stepped on his toes with the sole of his shoe. Simon grimaced at the sudden burst of pain, shooting the redhead a dirty look, but did nothing else. They continued to sit respectfully as the crew recited the Lord’s Prayer. The boys mumbled along as best they could, but it was very clear that they did not know the words. They shifted uncomfortably in the silence that followed, wondering if anyone had noticed their blunders. Instead, a strong and steady shout of song came from the back of the room. All four boys jumped, swiveling in their chairs to try and see the singer. Suddenly the whole of the crew began to take up the song. For the second time in a span of minutes, the orphans found themselves at the center of a unison where they did not know the words. But this was far less solemn. The volume began to swell as the crew all leapt to their feet to bellow the classic sea shanty. Soon enough drinks and food began to circle the room, raising spirits as well as the raucous energy of the crew.
[#228B22 “C’mon, let’s go,”] Peter muttered to the other three boys. Seeing as the lads barely knew Henry before his demise, he thought it best that they take their leave. Better for his life to be celebrated by those who truly knew him. Before they reached the door, however, Peter was stopped by one of the drunker crewmates. The man shoved a mug into his hands, encouraging him to drink up on Henry’s behalf. Peter hesitated. He didn’t want to insult a dead man’s memory by refusing the offer, but it also smelled horrendous. Sensing his reluctance, the crew all began to take up a chant, pressuring him to down the alcohol. Putting on a brave face, Peter cast a cautious glance at the other Lost Boys and tossed back the entirety of the concoction. Then it came right back up.
The poor boy sputtered and choked as the alcohol stung his throat. The stuff burned so bad that it cleared out his sinuses and brought watery tears to his eyes. Bellowing laughter echoed around the crew as a couple of the men patted him on the back bracingly. Peter doubled over with his hands on his knees still coughing, but also laughing in spite of himself. [#228B22 “God! That stuff’s awful,”] he exclaimed as he straightened up and wiped the tears from his eyes. [#228B22 “It’s worse than medicine,”] he informed the boys who looked at him with concern. Understanding dawned in their eyes. Medicine was the foulest thing any child could have the misfortune of taking. It was a thick syrup with a sickly sweetness that was more than enough to make anyone gag. Despite this comparison however, Peter swiped up the next mug of Bumbo. [#228B22 “Best to get it over with quickly then!”] The men all cheered.
The next two servings went down easier than the first over the course of the next half hour. Not by much, but enough. He was able to keep both down at least. However, with such a small frame and next to nothing in his stomach for the day, the alcohol took hold of the boy very quickly indeed. A consistent buzzing made his head swim dizzyingly. And although the boy was stationary, he felt as though he were rocking worse than when the storm tried to overtake the Jolly Roger. Some of the crew took note of the youngster’s state and were kind enough to force feed him some stale bread and a heavy stew, but it was clear he’d already passed the point of no return. There was little the food could do to help him now in terms of sopping up the alcohol; it was already swimming in his blood.
[#228B22 “Wha d’ya do wit a drunken sailor, wha d’ya do wit a drunken sailor? Wha th’[i fuck] d’ya do wit a drunken sailor early in da moooorn-ing!”] He seemed to have a decent grasp on the words now. Sort of. Peter was smiling from ear to ear, his cheeks burning bright red, as he made merry with the rest of the crew. His eyes were glazed over, only half open as he swayed dangerously on the spot. Someone had the good sense to catch him by the upper arm before he toppled face first onto the floor.
[+mediumaquamarine “Oi! What happened with the lad’s crew? They ought to be getting him back, I think,”] said the man with a laugh. Simon, Teddy, and Oliver left shortly after Peter started drinking, however. Since they were too young to participate there wasn’t much sense for them to stick around.
[#228B22 “I don need’ta be goin’ nowhere,”] snapped Peter, wrenching him arm out of the other man’s grasp. He stumbled from the momentum but managed to seat himself in a nearby chair. [#228B22 “Juss gimme ‘nother drink instead why don’tcha!”] A mug passed through several hands, making its way over to Peter, but the older pirate stopped it before it reached him. [#228B22 “Hey - !”]
[+mediumaquamarine “I think you’ve had enough, lad.”] The man still smiled and laughed, but there was a finality to his tone that suggested he ought to be obeyed. [+mediumaquamarine “Trust me, you don’t wanna go drinking too much. You’ll be awful sore in the morning for it.”]
[#228B22 “Don go tellin’ me wha ta do.”] Peter stood from his chair, drawing himself up to his full height. There was a collective round of [i ooohs] from the nearby onlookers.
The two had a brief standoff where neither one of them moved. Then Peter suddenly lunged forward to make a grab for the mug of rum. The pirate easily sidestepped out of the way, sending the boy careening into the crowd observers. They caught him, all laughing and jeering before flinging him back toward the older man. [+mediumaquamarine “Quit bein’ stubborn, boy.”]
[#228B22 “Jus gimme the drink!”] Again, he lunged forward. The pirate sidestepped once more, but Peter was ready for the move this time. Rather than continuing forward he spun on the balls of his feet to switch direction and followed the man’s movement. In a move of surprising speed while in his drunken state, the boy grabbed the mug in one hand while simultaneously twisting the wrist of the man with the other to get him to let go. Once he released the drink, Peter quickly got out of the way of his follow up swipe and this time it was the pirate who stumbled into the crowd. The redhead let out a victorious cry which the crew immediately took up as well. He then brought the mug to his lips, ready to down his fourth helping of the day, but with a violent swat the older pirate sent the cup spiraling to the floor instead.
[+mediumaquamarine “Now I said that’s enough.”] This clearly wasn’t about the drink anymore, though. The man didn’t want to be shown up and made a fool by a drunken child. Peter smirked in his classic cocky fashion. He didn’t intend to get under the man’s skin, but it was always fun to piss off an adult.
[#228B22 “An’ I said I wan ‘nother drink.”] Another mug made its way to the front. While it would have been wiser to put a stop to the rising tension, the crew was far more eager to see a fight break out. They were, after all, just as drunk. Peter took a hold of his new helping of rum, swirling the contents around slowly, tauntingly.
[+mediumaquamarine “I’m warning ya, lad. Don’t. I’m tryin’ to look after ya. Don’t make me hurt ya to do it.”]
[#228B22 “Don need no one lookin’ afta me! I get along juss fine, thanks.”]
[+mediumaquamarine “Look, you may think you’re grown, but –”]
[#228B22 [i “I ain’t grown!”]] Peter shouted, infuriated.
[+mediumaquamarine “Aight, so put the rum down then. ‘Cuz that there’s for grown-ups, ya know.”]
Peter considered his cup with a slack jawed expression. He didn’t want to be drinking some grown-up swill, but he also didn’t want to be told what to do by some random crewmate who wasn’t even captain. Hell, Peter couldn’t even remember the man’s name. What authority did he have to call the shots? [#228B22 “Fine,”] he mumbled, still staring at the full mug. [#228B22 “You wanna have my drink s’bad? Takkit.”] With that, the boy launched the alcohol all over the man in front of him.
For a moment, everything seemed to pause. The older man stood dumbstruck and now soaking wet. All the other pirates surrounding them held their breath, not daring to intervene. Then without warning the man charged at Peter like a bull. Two hard blows landed smack dab into Peter’s face. The first hit him right on the nose. There was a sickening crack and blood immediately spurted all down his front. The second came from the side, dislodging the right side of his jaw. The boy stumbled over, falling onto the unforgiving ground. Stars were dancing in front of his eyes from the force of impact while the edges of his vision began to darken. He gave his head a shake in an attempt to clear it just as the man descended upon him again. Mustering up his strength, Peter slid his body backwards between the pirate’s open legs. With all his might, Peter kicked the man in the ass as he was doubled over, and he went down with a mighty crash. The man’s head had collided with a table on the way down and he looked just as dazed as Peter felt. Egged on by the many cheers of the bystanders, Peter leapt on top of the downed man’s chest effectively knocking the air out of him. He used his legs to pin the pirate’s arms to his sides while he in turn rained punches down on the man’s face. Now, one punch from a child could hardly do any damage. Several fueled by rage and alcohol, however, began to bruise and bloody the skin.
Once the older man was able to regain his breath, he violently bucked Peter off his chest. The man regained his feet and towered over the kid on the ground. He delivered a swift kick to Peter’s ribs, making the boy curl up in agonizing pain. Readying another kick, he drew his foot back. This time when it connected, however, Peter latched onto it tightly with the entirely of his body enclosed around the pirate’s leg. Shocked by this move, the man stumbled backwards and seizing his moment, Peter sank his teeth into the exposed skin of his calf. It was dirty fighting, true, but it was clear the boy wouldn’t be able to win this on brute strength alone. The older man howled in pain, trying to beat the boy off his leg. The more punches Peter took, however, the tighter his teeth clamped down. He could feel the warm metallic taste of blood on his tongue now. It was difficult to tell whether it was his own pouring from his nose or the pirate’s coming out of his leg. Finally, the man caught hold of Peter by the scruff of the neck and managed to yank him off. He hoisted the boy up off the ground so that he was face to face with him. Just as he was about to sink another punch full on to Peter’s face, the redhead brought his legs up to his chest and extended them forcefully into the man’s face instead. The pirate dropped Peter to the ground using his hands to double over and clutch his aching visage. Peter scrambled to his feet, using a nearby table as a means of support. There was a mug resting on its surface and the boy gripped the wooden container tightly before bringing it down hard over the back of the man’s head. It must have hit a pressure point because the older man’s body jerked before crumpling to the ground.
The boy stood over the man victorious and panting heavily. He wiped a combination of blood, sweat, and spit from his lips. If he didn’t need the drink before, he definitely needed one now. That was when he noticed the silence. Where once there was wild cheering all the men had now hushed and were eerily still. For a moment, Peter supposed he had simply impressed them too much with his fighting skills. As he turned, however, he saw the reason for their restraint. Hook stood at the edge of the crowd, watching Peter with a look he couldn’t read. The fight must have caused the noise to swell then carry out to the deck outside, alerting the captain. Exhausted from the fight, Peter was for once speechless. The adrenaline had burned off a good deal of the alcohol in his system, so he didn’t even get the escape of having to face the captain while drunk. The boy swallowed hard and averted his eyes to the ground. [#228B22 “Sorry,”] was all he could manage.
Hook beckoned the boy to follow him out. Peter grit his teeth and did as he was told. The crew parted for them like the Red Sea, their eyes boring into them both. He limped as he walked and cradled his ribs gingerly. The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the creeping dread that he could feel rising in the pit of his stomach. Peter felt like he had disappointed the captain. It was an odd feeling for him because no one had ever expected anything of him to begin with. And now, what was to be his punishment? Flogging? Stockades? Death, even? He hoped if it was the latter he'd at least get to say one final goodbye to his Lost Boys. Simon would have to look out for them from then on and, honestly, if that were the case they'd all be doomed too. When the pair reached the captain's quarters, Peter entered first with Hook following and shutting the door behind them. He kept his eyes trained to the ground, waiting for the pirate captain to make the first move.