Page 33 of Escaping Pirates (Legends of Neverland #4)

T he morning wind tangled my hair and stung my eyes, though I wasn’t sure if the sting was more from the wind or from the tears that threatened to fall. The shore was fading away, and I was still aboard the Fortune Hunter .

There had been no flare.

Not last night, not this morning. That had to mean either that Tyrone had been telling the truth and my cooperation had kept Harlan alive…or else that the entire thing was a bluff and there had never been a plan to have him killed.

Either way, I couldn’t gamble his life.

I had left the note, and for the time being, that was the best I could do to help both Harlan and myself. If only it were more.

A shout and scuffling came from below deck, followed by more shouts. Tyrone came out of his quarters, adjusting his hat and coat as he did so.

Dex and Croy, the first mate, came up, hauling a red-headed young man between them that I didn’t recognize.

He walked between them without any resistance.

There was a glint in his eyes, like mischief bottled up, and an eerie calm in the way he held his chin high, as if this were his ship and we were all the intruders.

“Captain!” Dex called out. “We found a stowaway! He was hiding belowdecks, but we spotted him.”

“A stowaway?” Tyrone asked, eyeing the young man up and down. Gil appeared at my shoulder, bright-eyed and eager as ever, staring at the young man with avid interest.

The stowaway met his gaze without a shadow of embarrassment or shame. “Guilty as charged. Add it to my lengthy list of crimes.”

“Any reason you’re here?”

“I needed a ride.”

“I’m not a ferry service,” Tyrone said coldly.

“Are you headed to Berkway?”

“I don’t give information to stowaways. What’s your business in Berkway?”

The young man smirked. “I don’t give information to pirates who participate in human trafficking, smuggle illegal cargo, and blackmail innocent women.”

A sharp silence fell over the deck.

Tyrone stepped forward slowly, eyeing him with newfound suspicion. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. But if it makes you feel better, then sure, pretend I’m the villain for stowing away. I’ve been accused of far worse.”

I saw Tyrone’s jaw tick. “I’ll ask again,” he said. “Why are you here?”

“Believe me, it gives me no pleasure. I don’t like the ocean in the slightest.” The boy spread his hands. “But based on what you’re planning, I figured I could trust you to act in your own best interest, which means I can temporarily trust you to get me to Berkway.”

Tyrone’s voice lowered. “And just what is it that you think I’m planning?”

The stowaway’s smile widened, too sharp to be harmless. “That’s the thing—I don’t care. It doesn’t concern me or anyone I care about, so do whatever you want.”

“I’m wanting to throw you overboard about now. You’re more dense than I thought if you assumed I’d just let you stay on my ship, free of charge, until you reach your destination.”

“Throwing someone overboard wouldn’t be very entertaining for long. A few minutes until they’re out of sight?” He clicked his tongue. “You could have so much more.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll fight a man a day for your entertainment in exchange for passage to Berkway,” he answered, so confidently that concern lurched in my stomach.

The red-headed young man couldn’t be much older than Gil, and I’d seen how quickly Gil lost even when the others were going easy on him. “Pick anyone. I put on a good show.”

For a full minute, Tyrone looked at the young man, calculating, then threw his head back and roared in laughter. “What’s your name, boy?”

The young man stuck out his hand, looking Tyrone dead in the eye. “I’m Peter Pan.”

My stomach churned even more than it had when I’d first set foot on a boat and been violently seasick.

The pirates huddled close to the roped-off fighting ring, all eagerly placing bets on how badly Peter would get beaten and how quickly he would get knocked out.

He was barely of age, maybe nineteen years old, and these men thought it was a good idea to beat the poor boy?

I knew the rumors that he’d been accused of a multitude of crimes, but looking at his youthful face… I didn’t want to see any boy get hurt.

“Maybe he could be a cabin boy like Gil instead,” I suggested to Tyrone as I watched both Peter and the pirate strip off their shirts and shake out their arms. I couldn’t rid myself of the image of Harlan after he’d been keelhauled.

The brutality of men on the high seas was unparalleled.

“I don’t want to watch something like this. ”

“You may want to close your eyes, then,” Tyrone answered carelessly. “He’s the one who offered.”

“Please, Tyrone?” I gently touched my hand to his arm. “For me?” If I could spare the world of a little cruelty and suffering, I would, no matter who the target was.

Tyrone cast a bemused eye at where my fingers grazed his skin, then he held up his other arm. “Wait!”

My heart leapt. Even if I couldn’t be rescued, I could at least save Peter from a fate like Harlan’s.

“This lady has requested that the fight be cancelled,” Tyrone began, and a chorus of groans met his words. “Out of respect for her, I’m willing to heed her?—”

“I’ll fight,” Peter called out, and the crew cheered and clapped each other on the back.

“Don’t ever interrupt me again, boy,” Tyrone spat. “Because I care about this woman here”—he threw an arm around my shoulders—“I’m willing to let you have room and board in our brig until we reach land if you prefer.”

“I don’t prefer that,” Peter insisted. “I want to fight. ”

A scream of frustration threatened to burst out of me. Did the stupid boy not recognize that I was offering him a way out? He would be safe and unharmed.

“Men?” Tyrone called to his crew. “What say you?”

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” they all chanted as one, pounding their fists against barrels or stomping on the deck.

Tyrone shrugged at me. “They want a fight.”

I bit my lip and turned away. There really was nothing else I could do if Peter wasn’t even willing to help himself.

“Proceed,” Tyrone called.

My jaw locked and I stared at the horizon, trying to block out the animalistic roar of the bloodthirsty crowd that thundered in my ears. I heard Gil’s thin voice call out, “Three…two…one…fight!”

It didn’t even matter that I wasn’t watching. The noise of the men echoed in my head as they screamed their support for their crewmate. There were gasps, shouts, then an almighty crash that shook the deck floor, followed by an absolute silence.

Fearing the worst, I glanced back at the ring, prepared to see Peter’s limp form laid out on the boards or bloodied beyond recognition.

Instead, I saw Dex’s massive body sprawled out on the deck, mouth sagging open and eyes closed.

Above him stood Peter, looking windswept and sweaty but perfectly fine.

“Who’s up tomorrow?” Peter said, casually pulling his shirt back on.

Tyrone leapt to his feet, and for a moment, I thought he was going to order Peter to walk the plank.

His face had darkened to a deep shade of maroon, and his mouth flapped open and closed.

At Peter’s feet, the other fighter slowly groaned and put a hand up to his head.

Gil began clapping, and several other men slowly followed suit until they were all shouting and slapping Peter’s back, complimenting him on such an efficient and unpredictable fight.

“Didn’t think a boy like you had it in him!”

“Amazing! Where did you learn to fight?”

Tyrone’s face slowly returned to its normal color, and he cleared his throat before descending the stairs to extend his compliments to Peter as well.

“I didn’t think it would go that way,” Tyrone told Peter, shaking his hand.

“Must have been a lucky punch,” Peter returned nonchalantly. “We’ll see how I fare tomorrow.” Harlan’s line about how people make their own luck had never seemed more fitting. This was a boy who made his own luck.

Already, there was a line of pirates all clamoring to be the next to get into the ring with Peter the following day.

I sighed and shook my head. In the past, I’d heard men complain that women were confusing, and yet women didn’t beg to face an opponent trying to knock them senseless.

At least women maintained their common sense.

I failed to see how we were the confusing gender.

The crowd was slowly dispersing, all talking excitedly about the fight I hadn’t witnessed. Even Peter’s opponent, who had finally sat up and was experimentally shaking his head, was impressed.

“I’m gonna fight like Peter one day,” Gil said, his young face shining with enthusiasm. “He’s young and he can fight.”

“I’ve heard of him,” I said. “And if I remember right, he was in prison for a few years already. He probably learned to fight from the other inmates.”

Gil’s eyes widened. “He must’ve been convicted when he was about my age then. I wonder what he did.” His voice had dropped to a reverent hush .

“I hope I never find out,” I answered fervently.

For the rest of the day, Peter seemed to crop up everywhere I looked, and he always seemed to have a captive audience.

At meals, he told such animated stories that even Flint smiled in appreciation.

I saw him pitching in to help with the dishes, then in the afternoon, he was teaching Gil to fight.

He would slow down his punches and show Gil how to block and return blows, similar to how Harlan had taught me.

For being a convicted criminal, he certainly was a charming, charismatic one.

“Peter has big plans,” Gil told me after his practice training session with Peter. “He says he is going to get rich and that I can join up if I want.”

“I wouldn’t trust him,” I warned him. “Criminals will lie, cheat, and steal with no remorse, no matter who you are.”

“Not Peter,” Gil assured me. “He says he always tells the truth to his friends, and he and I are friends now. You tried to stop the fight to be nice to him, so why don’t you want me to be friends with him?”

I sighed. Trust teenage boys to have no grasp on reality. “So how does he plan to get so rich?”

“Betting!”

“Ah yes, there is nothing like gambling to turn youth into wealthy lords,” I said drily. “What will you be betting on?”

“Fights, of course! Didn’t you see Peter today? There were lots of bets against him, but he won. We’re going to make people think that he isn’t any good, then get good odds. ”

“Excellent. An amateur hustler. Just what the world needs.”

Gil frowned, his young face annoyed. “What’s your suggestion to get rich then?”

“Work an honorable job, save up, and spend less than you make.”

Gil groaned and slouched dramatically against the cabin wall. “But that would take forever!”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe, but that way, you wouldn’t risk being sent to jail like Peter. Did he tell you why he ended up in prison for years?”

Gil shrugged. “A misunderstanding. He said there was a pirate who was out to get him. You don’t like pirates either.”

“No, I don’t.”

“What about bounty hunters?”

“No, they aren’t any better.”

“Spies?”

I let out a laugh. “No pirates, spies, assassins, bounty hunters, thieves, robbers, or anything of the sort.”

“What, do you want to hang out with princes and princesses?”

Harlan’s face burst into my mind’s eye. “I’m not that high class, and there is a lot of middle ground between royalty and criminals. My father is a merchant, so I guess I’m used to that.”

“Captain Tyrone’s a merchant. He’s nice to you.”

“He’s a pirate who calls himself a merchant, and he pretends to be nice.” Then, to engage him in a more productive conversation, I asked, “What sort of job do you want when you grow up?”

He fidgeted, picking up a ship in a bottle and holding it up to the porthole as if he was pretending that the ship was floating on the sea beyond.

“Something that makes a lot of money. Peter says he has lots of ideas to get rich, and he and I are going to go explore together next time we get into port.”

An idea struck me. “Gil, if I give you a letter to post, can you send it without telling the captain?”

He chewed on his lip. “But I can’t read.”

Even better. “You don’t need to read it. I can just let you take it. We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And friends help each other.” I wasn’t sure how I could make it out of this without manipulating Gil somehow. I would make it up to him. Once I was free, I could offer him a position, a reward, or whatever he wanted. But could I trust him to keep a secret?

“Yeah.”

“But we’re just going to keep this between us, right?”

“You bet.”

I had no choice but to trust him.

I spent the evening composing a letter to my father.

I gave it to Gil, but then fretted about it constantly after that, even though Gil assured me that he’d placed it in a spot only he knew about.

If Tyrone found it… With each passing day, my apprehension grew.

What if Gil accidentally let slip my plan before we made land?

What if someone else discovered it? Why hadn’t I been more patient and waited?

Tyrone continued to have me accompany him for dinner. He made no additional requests or advances, only polite conversation veiled with the threat of another flare. Occasionally, Tyrone insisted I watch yet another fight with him. Peter had surprised the entire crew and remained undefeated.

“What did you think of the fight today?” Tyrone asked me a week later. “I thought it was a good one, but a little too short-lived.”

“Peter fights dirty.”

Tyrone laughed. “Ah, you and your never-ending quest for moral superiority. How quaint. That reminds me, we’ll be headed back into Ebora tomorrow. I’ll need your assistance once more to put another deal through.”