14 The Pirate Ship. One green light squinting over Kid's Creek which is 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 no sound from her could have reached the shore. There was little sound, and none agreeable save the whir of the ship's sewing machine at which Smee sat, ever industrious and obliging, the essence of the common place. 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, and more than once on summer evenings he had touched the fount of hooks-tears and made it flow. Of this, as of almost everything else, Smee was quite unconscious. A few of the pirates leaned 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, where even in their sleep they rolled skillfully to this side or that, out of hooks' reach, lest he should claw them mechanically in passing. Hook trod the deck and 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 grimest deed since the days when he had brought barbecue to heal, and knowing as we do how vain a tabernacle is man, could we be surprised had he now paced the deck unsteadily, bellied out by the winds 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 thus when communing with himself on board ship in the quietude of the night. It was because he was so terribly alone. This inscrutable man never felt more alone than when 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 lines must already have guessed, he had been at a famous public school, and its traditions still clung to him like garments, with which indeed they are largely concerned.  But above all he retained the passion for good form. Good form! However much he may have degenerated he still knew that this is all that really matters. From far within him he 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 bobble it is mine! he cried. Is it quite good form to be distinguished at anything? the tap-tap from his school replied. I am the only man whom Barbeque feared, he urged, and Flint feared Barbeque. Barbeque, Flint, what house? came the cutting retort. Most dequieting reflection of all, was it not bad form to think about good form? His vitals were tortured by this problem. It was a claw within him sharper than the iron one, and as it tore him the perspiration dripped down his tallow countenance and streaked his doublet.  Ah, envy not, Hook. There came to him a presentiment of his early dissolution. It was as if Peter's terrible oath had boarded the ship. Hook felt a gloomy desire to make his dying speech less 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 in the third person. No little children to love me! Strange that he should think of this, which 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 with 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 the spister in his mind. Why do they find Smee lovable? He pursued the problem like the sleuth-hound that he was. If Smee was lovable, what was it that made him so? A terrible answer suddenly presented itself. Good form? Had the Bose on 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 are eligible for pop. With a cry of rage he raised his iron hand over Smee's head, but he did not tear. What arrested him was this reflection. To claw a 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 dogs, thinking him out of the way for a time, disciplined instantly relaxed, and they broke into a bacchanalian dance, which brought him to his feet at once all traces of human weakness gone as if a bucket of water had passed over him. Quiet, you dogs! 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 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 unmelodiously, snatches of a rude song, and fingering a pack of cards. Ever and anon the light from his cigar gave a touch of color to his face. Now, then, bullies, he said briskly. Six of you walk to the plank tonight, but I have room for two cabin boys. Which of you is it to be? Don't irritate him unnecessarily, had been Wendy's instructions in the hold. So Toodles stepped forward politely. Toodles 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 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. You see, sir, I don't think my mother would like me to be a pirate.  He winked it slightly, who said mournfully, I don't think so, as if he wished things had been otherwise.  I don't think so, said the first twin, as clever as the others. Nibs would stow this gab! roared Hook, and the spokesmen were dragged back.  Did's never want to be a pirate, my hearty. Now John had sometimes experienced this hankering at Math's prep, and he was struck by Hook's picking him out. I once thought of calling myself Red-handed Jack, he said diffidently. And a good name, too.  What do you think, Michael? asked John. What would you call me if I join? Michael demanded. Blackbeard Joe. 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 of the kink? John inquired. Through 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 shone out now.  And I refuse, cried Michael. Rule Britania! squeaked Curly. The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth, and Hook roared out, That seals your doom! Bring up their mother, get the plank ready. They were only boys, and they went white as they saw Jukes and Cheko preparing the fatal plank. But they tried to look brave when Wendy was brought up. No words of mine can tell you how Wendy despised those 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.  And she had already written it 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. 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.  At this moment Wendy was grand. These are my last words, dear boys, she said firmly. I feel that I have a message to you from your real mothers, and it is this.  Even the pirates were odd, and toodles cried out hysterically. I am going to do what my mother hopes. What are you to do, nibs? What my mother hopes? What are you to do, twin? What my mother hopes? John, what are— But Hook had found his voice again. Tire up! he shouted. It was Smee who tied her to the mast. See here, honey, he whispered.  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 at her as Smee tied her to the mast. The eyes of all were on the plank.  They were no longer able to hope that they would walk in 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 the boys walking the plank one by one. But he never reached her. He never heard the cry of anguish he hoped to ring from her. He heard something else instead. It was the terrible tick, tick of the crocodile. They all heard it. Pirates, boys, Wendy. And immediately every head was blown in one direction, not to the water once the sound proceeded, but toward Hook. All knew that what was about to happen concerned him alone, and that from being actors they were suddenly become 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 heap. The sound came steadily nearer and in advance of it came this ghastly thought. The crocodile is about to board the ship. Even the iron claw hung inactive, as if knowing that it was no intrinsic part of what the attacking force wanted.  But the gigantic brain of Hook was still working, and under its guidance he crawled on the knees along the deck as far from the sound as he could go. The pirates respectfully cleared a passage for him, and it was only when he brought up against the bulwarks that he spoke. Hide me! he cried hoarsely.  They had no thought of fighting it. It was fate. Only when Hook was hidden 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 strangest surprise of the night of nights. For it was no crocodile that was coming to their aid. It was Peter. He signed to them not to give vent to any cry of admiration that might rouse suspicion. Then he went on ticking. CHAPTER XV Hook or me this time. Odd things happen to all of us on our way through life without our noticing for a time that they have happened. Thus, to take an instance, we suddenly discover that we have been deaf in one ear, for we don't know how long, but say half an hour. Now such an experience had come that night to Peter. When last we saw him he was stealing across the island with one finger to his lips and his dagger at the ready. He had seen the crocodile pass by without noticing anything peculiar about it. But by and by he remembered that it had not been ticking. At first he thought this eerie. But soon concluded rightly that the clock had run down. Without giving a thought to what might be the feelings of a fellow creature, thus abruptly deprived of its closest companion, Peter began to consider how he could turn the catastrophe to his own use. And he decided to tick, so that wild beasts should believe he was the crocodile and let him pass unmolested. He ticked superbly, but with one unforeseen result. The crocodile was among those who heard the sound and it followed him. But whether for the purpose of regaining what it had lost, or merely as a friend under the belief that it was again ticking itself, will never be certainly known.  Peter reached the shore without mishap and went straight on, his legs encountering the water as if quite unaware that they had entered a new element. Thus many animals pass from land to water, but no other human of whom I know. As he swam he had but one thought, hook or me this time. He had ticked so long that he now went on ticking without knowing that he was doing it. Had he known he would have stopped. For to bar the brig by help of the tick, though an ingenious idea had not occurred to him. On the contrary he thought he had scaled her side as noiselessly as a mouse, and he was amazed to see the pirates cowering from him with hook in their midst as abject as if he had heard the crocodile. The crocodile. No sooner did Peter remember it than he heard the ticking. At first he thought the sound did come from the crocodile, and he looked behind him swiftly. Then he realized that he was doing it himself, and in a flash he understood the situation. How clever of me he thought at once and signed to the boys not to burst into applause. It was at this moment that Ed Tyne Tay, the quarter master emerged from the forecastle and came along the deck. Now, reader, time what happened by your watch. Peter struck true and deep. John clapped his hands on the ill-fated pirate's mouth to stifle the dying groan. He fell forward. Four boys caught him to prevent the thud. Peter gave the signal, and the carrion was cast overboard. There was a splash and then silence. How long has it taken? One, slightly, had begun to count. None too soon, Peter, every inch of him on tiptoe, vanished into the cabin. For more than one pirate was screwing up his courage to look round. They could hear each other's distressed breathing now, which showed them that the more terrible sound had passed. It's gone, Captain, since me said, wiping off his spectacles, all still again. Slowly, Hook let his head emerge from his rough and listened so intently that he could have caught the echo of the tick.  Then, here's to Johnny Plank, he cried brazenly, hating the boys more than ever because they had seen him unbend. He broke into the villainous diddy.  To terrorize the prisoners the more, though with a certain loss of dignity, he danced along an imaginary Plank, grimacing at them as he sang. And when he finished, he cried, do you want a touch of the cat, a nine tails before you walk the Plank? At that they fell on their knees. No, no, they cried so piteously that every pirate smiled. Fetch the cat, Juke, said Hook, it's in the cabin. The cabin. Peter was in the cabin. The children gazed at each other. Eye-eyes said Juke's blithely, and he strode into the cabin.  They scarce knew that Hook had resumed his song, his dogs joining in with him.  It wailed through the ship and died away. Then was heard a crowing sound, which was well understood by the boys, but to the pirates was almost more eerie than the screech. What was that? cried Hook. Two said slightly solemnly. The Italian Seco hesitated for a moment and then swung into the cabin. He tottered out, haggard. What's the matter with Bill Juke's you dog, hissed Hook, towering over him? The matter with him is he's dead, stabbed, replied Seco in a hollow voice. Bill Juke's dead, cried the startled pirates. The cabin's as black as a pit, Seco said, almost gibbering, but there is something terrible in there, the thing you heard crowing. The exultation of the boys, the lowering looks of the pirates, both were seen by Hook. Seco, he said in his most steely voice, go back and fetch me out that doodle-doo. Seco, bravest of the brave, cowered before his captain, crying, no, no, but Hook was purring to his claw. Did you say you would go, Seco, he said musingly. Seco went, first flinging his arms despairingly. There was no more singing, all listened now, and again came a death screech and again a crow. No one spoke except slightly. Three, he said. Hook rallied his dogs with a gesture. Stealth and odds fish, he thundered, who is to bring me that doodle-doo. Wait till Seco comes out, growled Starkey, and the others took up the cry. I think I heard you volunteer, Starkey, said Hook, purring again. No, by thunder. Starkey cried. My Hook thinks you did, said Hook, crossing to him. I wonder if it would not be advisable, Starkey, to humor the Hook. I'll swing before I go in there, replied Starkey doggedly, and again he had the support of the crew. Is this mutiny, asked Hook, more pleasantly than ever. Starkey's ringleader. Captain, mercy, Starkey whimpered, all of a tremble now. Shake hands, Starkey, said Hook, pro-offering his claw. Starkey looked round for help, but all deserted him. As he backed up, Hook advanced, and now the red spark was in his eye. With a despairing scream, the pirate leapt upon long tom and precipitated himself into the sea. Four, said slightly. And now, Hook said courteously, did any other gentlemen say mutiny? Seizing a lantern and raising his claw with a menacing gesture, I'll bring out that doodle-doo myself, he said, and sped into the cabin. Five, how slightly long to say it, he wedded his lips to be ready, but Hook came staggering out without his lantern. Something blew out the light, he said a little unsteadily. Something, echoed Mullins. What of Seco, demanded Noodler? He's as dead as juke, said Hook, shortly. His reluctance to return to the cabin impressed them all unfavorably, and the mutinous sounds again broke forth. All pirates are superstitious, and Cookson cried. They do say the surest sign of ships accursed is when there's one on board more than can be accounted for. I've heard, muttered Mullins, he always boards the pirate craft last. Had he a tail, Captain? They say, said another, looking viciously at Hook, that when he comes it's in the likeness of the wickedest man aboard. Had he a hook, Captain? asked Cookson insolently. And one after another took up the cry. The ships doomed. At this the children could not resist raising a cheer. Hook had well nigh forgotten his prisoners, but as he swung round on them now his face slid up again. Ladds he cried to his crew. Now here's a notion. Open the cabin door and drive them in. Let them fight the doodle-doo for their lives. If they kill him, we're so much the better. If he kills them, we're none the worse. For the last time his dogs admired Hook, and devotedly they did his bidding. The boys pretended to struggle, were pushed into the cabin, and the door was closed on them. Now listen, cried Hook, and all listened. But not one dared to face the door. Yes, one, Wendy, who all this time had been bound to the mast. It was for neither a scream nor a crow that she was watching. It was for the reappearance of Peter. She had not long to wait. In the cabin he had found the thing for which he had gone in search, the key that would free the children of their manacles. And now they all stole forth, armed with such weapons as they could find. First signing them to hide, Peter cut Wendy's bonds, and then nothing could have been easier than for them all to fly off together. But one thing barred the way, an oath, Hook or me this time. So when he had freed Wendy, he whispered for her to conceal herself with the others, and himself took her place by the mast, her cloak around him so that he should pass for her. Then he took a great breath and crowed. To the pirates it was a voice crying that all the boys lay slain in the cabin, and they were panic-stricken. Hook tried to hearten them, but like the dogs he had made them, they showed him their fangs, and he knew that if he took his eyes off them now, they would leap at him. Ladds, he said, ready to cajole, or strike as need be, but never quailing for an instant. I've thought it out, there's a Jonah aboard. Aye, they snarled a man with a hook. No lads know it's the girl, never was luck on a pirate ship with a woman on board. We'll write the ship when she's gone. Some of them remembered that this had been a saying of flints. It's worth trying, they said doubtfully. Fling the girl overboard cried Hook, and they made a rush at the figure in the cloak. There's none can save you now, Missy, Mullins hissed jeeringly. There's one, replied the figure. Who's that? Peter pan the Avenger, came the terrible answer. And as he spoke, Peter flung off his cloak. Then they all knew who twas that had been undoing them in the cabin, and twice Hook assayed to speak, and twice he failed. In that frightful moment I think his fierce heart broke. At last he cried, cleave him to the brisket, but without conviction. Down boys and at them, Peter's voice rang out, and in another moment the clash of arms was resounding through the ship. Had the pirates kept together it is certain that they would have won, but the onset came when they were still unstrung, and they ran hither and thither, striking wildly, each thinking himself the last survivor of the crew. Man to man they were the stronger, but they fought on the defensive only, which enabled the boys to hunt in pairs and choose their quarry. Some of the miscreants leapt into the sea, others hid in dark recesses, where they were found by slightly who did not fight, but ran about with the lantern which he flashed in their faces, so that they were half-blinded and fell as an easy prey to the wreaking swords of the other boys. There was little sound to be heard, but the clang of weapons, an occasional screech or splash, and slightly monotonously counting, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven. I think all were gone when a group of savage boys surrounded Hook, who seemed to have a charmed life as he kept them at bay in that circle of fire. They had done for his dogs, but this man alone seemed to be a match for them all. Again and again they closed upon him, and again and again he hewed a clear space. He had lifted up one boy with his Hook and was using him as a buckler, when another, who had just passed his sword through Mullins, sprang into the fray. Put up your swords, boys, cried the newcomer. This man is mine. Thus suddenly Hook found himself face to face with Peter. The others drew back and formed a ring around them. For long the two enemies looked at one another, Hook shuddering slightly, and Peter with a strange smile upon his face. So Pan, said Hook at last, this is all you're doing. I, James Hook, came the stern answer, it is all my doing. Proud and insolent youth, said Hook, prepare to meet thy doom. Dark and sinister man, Peter answered, have at thee. Without more words they fell to, and for a space there was no advantage to either blade. Peter was a superb swordsman, and parried with dazzling rapidity. Ever and anon he followed up a faint with a lunge that got past his foes defense. But his shorter reach stood him in ill-steed, and he could not drive the steel home. Hook, scarcely his inferior in brilliancy, but not quite so nimble in wrist play, forced him back by the weight of his onset, hoping suddenly to end all with a favorite thrust. Taught him long ago by barbecue at Rio. But to his astonishment he found this thrust turned aside again and again. Then he sought to close and give the quietess with his iron hook, which all this time had been pawing the air. But Peter, doubled under it, and lunging fiercely, pierced him in the ribs.  The sword fell from Hook's hand, and he was at Peter's mercy. Now, cried all the boys, but with a magnificent gesture, Peter invited his opponent to pick up his sword. Hook did so instantly, but with a tragic feeling that Peter was showing good form. Hither, too, he had thought it was some fiend fighting him, but darker suspicions assailed him now. Pan, who and what art thou, he cried huskily? I'm youth, I'm joy, Peter answered at a venture. I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg. This, of course, was nonsense, but it was proof to the unhappy Hook that Peter did not know in the least who or what he was, which is the very pinnacle of good form. Taught again, he cried despairingly. He fought now like a human flail, and every sweep of that terrible sword would have severed in twain any man or boy who obstructed it. But Peter fluttered round him as if the very wind it made blew him out of the danger zone. And again and again he darted in and pricked. Hook was fighting now without hope. That passionate breast no longer asked for life, but for one boon it craved, to see Peter show bad form before it was cold forever. Abandoning the fight, he rushed into the powder magazine and fired it. In two minutes he cried the ship will be blown to pieces. Now, now, he thought true form will show. But Peter, issued from the powder magazine with the shell in his hands and calmly flung it overboard. What sort of form was Hook himself showing? Misguided man though he was, we may be glad, without sympathizing with him, that in the end he was true to the traditions of his race. The other boys were flying around him now, flouting, scornful, and he staggered about the deck striking up at them impotently. His mind was no longer with them, it was slouching in the playing fields of long ago, or being sent up to the headmaster for good, or watching the wall game from a famous wall. And his shoes were right, and his waistcoat was right, and his tie was right, and his socks were right. James Hook, thou not holy unheroic figure, farewell, for we have come to his last moment. Seeing Peter slowly advancing upon him through the air with dagger poised, he sprang upon the bullwarks to cast himself into the sea. He did not know that the crocodile was waiting for him, for we purposely stopped the clock that this knowledge might be spared him, a little mark of respect from us at the end. He had one last triumph which I think we need not grudge him. As he stood on the bullwark looking over his shoulder at Peter gliding through the air, he invited him with a gesture to use his foot. It made Peter kick instead of stab. At last Hook had got the boon for which he craved. Bad form he cried jeeringly and went content to the crocodile. Thus perished James Hook. Seventeen, slightly saying out, but he was not quite correct in his figures. Fifteen paid the penalty for their crimes that night, but two reached the shore. Starkey, to be captured by the Redskins, who made him nurse for all their papooses, a melancholy come down for a pirate, and Smee, who henceforth wandered about the world in his spectacles, making a precarious living by saying he was the only man that Jas Hook had feared. Wendy, of course, had stood by taking no part in the fight, though watching Peter with glistening eyes. But now that all was over she became prominent again. She praised them equally and shuddered delightfully when Michael showed her the place where he had killed one. And then she took them into Hook's cabin and pointed to his watch which was hanging on a nail. It said, half past one. The lateness of the hour was almost the biggest thing of all. She got them to bed in the pirate's bunks pretty quickly, you may be sure. All but Peter, who strutted up and down on the deck, until at last he fell asleep by the side of long Tom. He had one of his dreams that night and cried in his sleep for a long time, and Wendy held him tightly. Peter Pan by J. M. Berry Chapter 16 The Return Home By three bells that morning they were all stirring their stumps, for there was a big sea running, and toodles the boson was among them, with ropes end in his hand and chewing tobacco. They all donned pirate clothes cut off at the knee, shaved smartly, and tumbled up, with the true nautical roll and hitching their trousers. It need not be said who was the captain. Nibbs and John were first and second mate. There was a woman aboard. The rest were tar's before the mast, and live in the foesel. Peter had already lashed himself to the wheel, but he piped all hands and delivered a short address to them. Said he hoped they would do their duty like gallant hearties, but that he knew they were the scum of Rio and the Gold Coast, and if they snapped at him he would tear them. The bluff strident words struck the note sailors understood, and they cheered him lustily. Then a few sharp orders were given, and they turned the ship round and nosed her for the mainland. Captain Pan calculated, after consulting the ship's chart, that if this weather lasted they should strike the Azores about the twenty-first of June, after which it would save time to fly. Some of them wanted it to be an honest ship, and others were in favor of keeping it a pirate, but the captain treated them as dogs, and they dared not express their wishes to him, even in a round robin, one person after another, as they had to Captain Hook. Instant obedience was the only safe thing. Slightly got a dozen for looking perplexed when told to take soundings. The general feeling was that Peter was honest just now to lull Wendy's suspicions, but that there might be a change when the new suit was ready, which against her will she was making for him out of some of Hook's wickedest garments. It was afterwards whispered among them that on the first night he wore this suit, he sat long in the cabin with Hook's cigar holder in his mouth, and one hand clenched, all but for the forefinger, which he bent and held threateningly aloft like a hook. Instead of watching the ship, however, we must now return to that desolate home from which three of our characters had taken heartless flight so long ago. It seems a shame to have neglected number fourteen all this time, and yet we may be sure that Mrs. Darling does not blame us. If we had returned sooner to look with sorrowful sympathy at her, she would probably have cried, Don't be silly, what do I matter? Do go back and keep an eye on the children. So long as mothers are like this, their children will take advantage of them, and they may lay to that. Even now we venture into that familiar nursery only because its lawful occupants are on their way home. We are merely hurrying in advance of them to see that their beds are properly aired, and that Mr. and Mrs. Darling do not go out for the evening. We are no more than servants. Why on earth should their beds be properly aired, seeing that they had left them in such a thankless hurry? Would it not serve them jolly well right if they came back and found that their parents were spending the weekend in the country? It would be the moral lesson they have been in need of ever since we met them, but if we contrived things in this way Mrs. Darling would never forgive us. One thing I should like to do immensely, and that is to tell her in the way authors have, that the children are coming back, that indeed they will be here on Thursday week. This would spoil so completely the surprise to which Wendy and John and Michael are looking forward. They have been planning it out on the ship, mother's rapture, father's shout of joy, Nana's leap through the air to embrace them first, when what they ought to be prepared for is a good hiding. How delicious to spoil it all by breaking the news in advance, so that when they enter grandly Mrs. Darling may not even offer Wendy her mouth, and Mr. Darling may explain pettishly, dash it all, here are those boys again. However, we should get no thanks even for this. We are beginning to know Mrs. Darling by this time, and may be sure that she would upbrate us for depriving the children of their little pleasure. But, my dear madam, it is ten days till Thursday week, so that by telling you what's what, we can save you ten days of unhappiness. Yes, but at what cost, by depriving the children of ten minutes of delight? Oh, if you look at it in that way, what other way is there in which to look at it? You see, the woman had no proper spirit. I had meant to say extraordinarily nice things about her, but I despise her, and not one of them will I say now. She does not really need to be told to have things ready, for they are ready. All the beds are aired, and she never leaves the house, and observe the window is open. For all the use we are to her, we might as well go back to the ship. However, as we are here, we may as well stay and look on. That is all we are, lookers on. Nobody really wants us. So let us watch and say jaggy things in the hope that some of them will hurt. The only change to be seen in the night-nursery is that between nine and six the kennel is no longer there. When the children flew away, Mr. Darling felt in his bones that all the blame was his for having chained Nana up, and from the first to the last she had been wiser than he. Of course, as we have seen, he was quite a simple man. Indeed, he might have passed for a boy again if he had been able to take his baldness off. But he also had a noble sense of justice and a lion's courage to do what seemed right to him. And having thought the matter out with anxious care after the flight of the children, he went down on all fours and crawled into the kennel. To all Mrs. Darling's dear invitations to him to come out he replied sadly but firmly, No, my own one, this is the place for me. In the bitterness of his remorse he swore that he would never leave the kennel until his children came back. Of course this was a pity, but whatever Mr. Darling did he had to do in excess, otherwise he soon gave up doing it. And there never was a more humble man than the once proud George Darling as he sat in the kennel of an evening talking with his wife of their children and all their pretty ways. Very touching was his deference to Nana. He would not let her come into the kennel, but on all other matters he followed her wishes implicitly. Every morning the kennel was carried with Mr. Darling in it to a cab, which conveyed him to his office, and he returned home in the same way at six. Something of the strength of character of the man will be seen if we remember how sensitive he was to the opinion of neighbors, this man whose every movement now attracted surprised attention. Inwardly he must have suffered torture, but he preserved a calm exterior even when the young criticized his little home, and he always lifted his hat courteously to any lady who looked inside. It may have been chaotic, but it was magnificent. Soon the inward meaning of it leaked out, and the great heart of the public was touched. Crowds followed the cab, cheering it lustily, charming girls scaled it to get his autograph, interviews appeared in the better class of papers, and society invited him to dinner and added, do come in the kennel. On that eventful Thursday week Mrs. Darling was in the night nursery awaiting George's return home, a very sad-eyed woman. Now that we look at her closely and remember the gaiety of her in the old days, all gone now just because she has lost her babies, I find I won't be able to say nasty things about her after all. If she was too fond of her rubbishy children, she couldn't help it. Look at her in her chair where she has fallen asleep. The corner of her mouth, where one looks first, is almost withered up. Her hand moves restlessly on her breast as if she had a pain there. Some like Peter best, and some like Wendy best, but I like her best. Supposed to make her happy, we whisper to her in her sleep that the brats are coming back. They are really within two miles of the window now, and flying strong, but all we need whisper is that they are on the way. Let's. It's a pity we did it, for she has started up, calling their names, and there is no one in the room but Nana. Oh, Nana, I dreamt my dear ones had come back. Nana had filled me eyes, but all she could do was put her paw gently on her mistress's lap, and they were sitting together thus when the kennel was brought back. As Mr. Darling puts his head out to kiss his wife, we see that his face is more worn than of yore, but has a softer expression. He gave his hat to Liza, who took it scornfully, for she had no imagination, and was quite incapable of understanding the motives of such a man. Outside the crowd who had accompanied the cab home were still cheering, and he was naturally not unmoved. Listen to them, he said. It is very gratifying.  There were several adults today. He assured her with a faint flush, but when she tossed her head he had not a word of reproof for her. Social success had not spoiled him. It had made him sweeter. For some time he sat with his head out of the kennel, talking with Mrs. Darling of this success, and pressing her hand reassuringly when she said she hoped his head would not be turned by it. But if I had been a weak man, he said, good heavens, if I had been a weak man.  Full of remorse as ever, dearest, see my punishment living in a kennel. But it is punishment, isn't it, George? You are sure you are not enjoying it? My love! You may be sure she begged his pardon, and then, feeling drowsy, he curled round in the kennel. Won't you play me to sleep, he asked, on the nursery piano? And as she was crossing to the day nursery, he added, thoughtlessly, and shut that window, I feel adrift. Oh, George never asked me to do that. The window must always be left open for them, always, always. Now it was his turn to beg her pardon, and she went into the day nursery and played, and soon he was asleep, and while he slept, Wendy and John and Michael flew into the room. Oh, no. We have written it so, because that was the charming arrangement planned by them before we left the ship. But something must have happened since then, for it is not they who have flown in. It is Peter and Tinkerbell. Peter's first words tell all. Quick, Tink, he whispered, close the window, bar it. That's right. Now you and I must get away by the door, and when Wendy comes, she will think her mother has barred her out, and she will have to go back with me. Now I understand what hitherto puzzled me. Why, when Peter had exterminated the pirates, he did not return to the island and leave Tink to escort the children to the mainland.  Instead of feeling that he was behaving badly, he danced with glee. Then he peeped into the day nursery to see who was playing. He whispered to Tink, it's Wendy's mother. She is a pretty lady, but not so pretty as my mother.  Of course he knew nothing whatever about his mother, but he sometimes bragged about her. He did not know the tune, which was home, sweet home, but he knew it was saying, come back, Wendy, Wendy. And he cried exultantly, you will never see Wendy again, lady, for the window is barred. He peeped in again to see why the music had stopped, and now he saw that Mrs. Darling had laid her head on the box, and that two tears were sitting on her eyes. She wants me to unbar the window, thought Peter, but I won't, not I. He peeped again, and the tears were still there, or another two had taken their place. She's awfully fond of Wendy, he said to himself. He was angry with her now for not seeing why she could not have Wendy. The reason was so simple. I'm fond of her too. We can't both have her, lady. But the lady would not make the best of it, and he was unhappy. He ceased to look at her, but even then she would not let go of him. He skipped about and made funny faces, but when he stopped it was just as if she were inside him knocking. Oh, all right, he said at last, and gulped. Then he unbarred the window. Come on, Tink, he cried, with a frightful sneer at the laws of nature. We don't want any silly mothers, and he flew away. Thus Wendy and John and Michael found the window open for them after all, which of course was more than they deserved. They alighted on the floor, quite unashamed of themselves, and the youngest one had already forgotten his home. John, he said, looking around him doubtfully, I think I've been here before.  So it is, said Michael, but not with much conviction. I say, cried John, the kennel, and he dashed across to look into it. Perhaps Nana is inside it, Wendy said. But John whistled. Hello, he said, there's a man inside it. It's Father, exclaimed Wendy. Let me see Father, Michael begged eagerly, and he took a good look. He is not so big as the pirate I killed, he said, with such frank disappointment that I am glad Mr. Darling was asleep. It would have been sad if those had been the first words he heard his little Michael say. Wendy and John had been taken aback somewhat at finding their father in the kennel. Surely, said John, like one who had lost his faith in his memory, he used not to sleep in the kennel. John, Wendy said falteringly, perhaps we don't remember the old life as well as we thought we did. A chill fell upon them and served them right. It is very careless of mother, said that young scoundrel John, not to be here when we come back. It was then that Mrs. Darling began playing again. It's mother, cried Wendy, peeping. So it is, said John. Then are you not really our mother, Wendy? asked Michael, who was surely sleepy. Oh dear, exclaimed Wendy, with her first real twinge of remorse for having gone. It was quite time we came back. Let us creep in, John suggested, and put our hands over her eyes. But Wendy, who saw that they must break the joyous news more gently, had a better plan. Let us all slip into our beds, and be there when she comes in, just as if we had never been away. And so, when Mrs. Darling went back to the night nursery to see if her husband was asleep, all the beds were occupied. The children waited for her cry of joy, but it did not come. She saw them, but she did not believe they were there. You see, she saw them in their beds so often in her dreams that she thought this was just the dream hanging around her still. She sat down in the chair by the fire, where in the old days she had nursed them. They could not understand this, and a cold fear fell upon all the three of them. Mother, Wendy, cried. That's Wendy, she said, but still she was sure it was the dream. Mother, that's John, she said. Mother, cried Michael. He knew her now. That's Michael, she said, and she stretched out her arms for the three little selfish children they would never envelop again. Yes, they did. They went round Wendy and John and Michael, who had slipped out of bed and run to her. George, George! She cried when she could speak, and Mr. Darling woke to share her bliss, and Nana came rushing in. There could not have been a lovelier sight, but there was none to see it except little boy who was staring in at the window. He had had ecstasies innumerable that other children can never know, but he was looking through the window at the one joy from which he must be forever barred. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of Peter Pan This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Peter Pan by J. M. Berry. Chapter 17 When Wendy Grew Up I hope you want to know what became of the other boys. They were waiting below to give Wendy time to explain about them, and when they had counted five hundred they went up. They went up by the stair because they thought this would make a better impression.  They ought to have looked at Mr. Darling also, but they forgot about him. Of course Mrs. Darling said at once that she would have them, but Mr. Darling was curiously depressed, and they saw that he considered six a rather large number. I must say, he said to Wendy, that you don't do things by halves, a grudging remark which the twins thought was pointed at them. The first twin was the proud one, and he asked, flushing, do you think we should be too much of a handful, sir? Because if so, we can go away. Father, Wendy cried, shocked, but still the cloud was on him. He knew he was behaving unworthily, but he could not help it. We could lie doubled up, said Nibbs. I always cut their hair myself, said Wendy. George, Mrs. Darling explained, paying to see her dear one showing himself in such an unfavorable light. Then he burst into tears, and the truth came out. He was as glad to have them as she was, he said, but he thought they should have asked his consent as well as hers, instead of treating him as a cipher in his own house. I don't think he is a cipher, Toodles cried instantly. Do you think he is a cipher, Curly? No, I don't. Do you think he is a cipher, slightly? Rather not. Twin, what do you think? It turned out that not one of them thought him a cipher, and he was absurdly gratified, and said he would find space for them all in the drawing-room if they fitted in. We'll fit in, sir, they assured him. Then follow the leader, he cried gaily. Mind you, I am not sure that we have a drawing-room, but we pretend we have, and it's all the same. Hoopla. He went off dancing through the house, and they all cried, Hoopla, and danced after him, searching for the drawing-room, and I forget whether they found it, but at any rate they found corners and they all fitted in. As for Peter, he saw Wendy once more before he flew away. He did not exactly come to the window, but he brushed against it in passing, so that she could open it, if she liked, and call to him. This is what she did. Hello, Wendy, good-bye, he said. Oh, dear, are you going away? Yes. You don't feel, Peter, she said falteringly, that you would like to say anything to my parents about a very sweet subject? No. About me, Peter? No. Mrs. Darling came to the window, for at present she was keeping a sharp eye on Wendy. She told Peter that she had adopted all the other boys, and would like to adopt him also. Would you send me to school? He inquired craftily. Yes. And then to an office? I suppose so. Soon I would be a man? Very soon. I don't want to go to school and learn solemn things, he told her passionately. I don't want to be a man. Oh, Wendy's mother, if I was to wake up and feel there was a beard? Peter, said Wendy the Comforter, I should love you in a beard. And Mrs. Darling stretched out her arms to him, but he repulsed her. Keep back, lady. No one is going to catch me and make me a man. But where are you going to live? With Tink in the house we built for Wendy. The fairies are to put it high up among the treetops where they sleep at nights. How lovely, cried Wendy so longingly that Mrs. Darling tightened her grip. I thought all the fairies were dead, Mrs. Darling said. There are always a lot of young ones, explained Wendy, who was now quite an authority. Because you see, when a new baby laughs for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there are always new babies there are always new fairies. They live in nests on the top of trees, and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are. I shall have such fun, said Peter with an eye on Wendy. It will be rather lonely in the evening, she said, sitting by the fire. I shall have Tink. Tink can't go a twentieth part of the way round, she reminded him a little tartly. Sneaky tell tale, Tink called out from somewhere around the corner. It doesn't matter, Peter said. Oh Peter, you know it matters. Well then, come with me to the little house. May I, Mummy? Certainly not. I have got you home again, and I mean to keep you. But he does so need a mother. So do you, my love. Oh, all right, Peter said, as if he had asked her from politeness merely, but Mrs. Darling saw his mouth twitch, and she made this handsome offer—to let Wendy go to him for a week every year to do his spring cleaning. Wendy would have preferred a more permanent arrangement, and it seemed to her that spring would be a long time in coming, but this promise sent Peter away quite gay again. He had no sense of time, and was so full of adventures that all I have told you about him is only a half-penny worth of them. I suppose it was because Wendy knew this that her last words to him were these rather plaintiff ones. You won't forget me, Peter, will you, before spring cleaning time comes? Of course Peter promised, and then he flew away. He took Mrs. Darling's kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one else Peter took quite easily. Funny, but she seemed satisfied. Of course all the boys went to school, and most of them got into class three, but slightly was put into class four and then into class five. Class one is the top class. Before they had attended school a week, they saw what goats they had been not to remain on the island, but it was too late now, and soon they settled down to being as ordinary as you or me or Jenkins Minor. It is sad to have to say that the power to fly gradually left them. At first Nana tied their feet to the bed-posts so that they should not fly away in the night, and one of their diversions by day was to pretend to fall off buses. The English double-deckers. But by and by they ceased to tug at their bonds in bed, and found that they hurt themselves when they let go of the bus. In time they could not even fly after their hats. Want of practice they called it, but what they really meant was that they no longer believed. Michael believed longer than the other boys, though they jeered at him, so he was with Wendy when Peter came for her at the end of the first year. She flew away with Peter in the frock she had woven from leaves and berries in the Neverland, and her one fear was that he might notice how short it had become, but he never noticed. He had so much to say about himself. She had looked forward to thrilling talks with him about old times, but new adventures had crowded the old ones from his mind. Who is Captain Hook? He asked, with interest, when she spoke of the arch enemy. Don't you remember? She asked, amazed.  I forget them after I killed them, he replied carelessly. When she expressed a doubtful hope that Tinkerbell would be glad to see her, he said, Who is Tinkerbell? Oh, Peter, she said, shocked, but even when she explained he could not remember. There are such a lot of them, he said, I expect she is no more. I expect he was right, for fairies don't live long, but they are so little that a short time seems a good while to them. Wendy was pained, too, to find that the past year was but as yesterday to Peter it had seemed such a long year of waiting to her. But he was exactly as fascinating as ever, and they had a lovely spring cleaning in the little house on the treetops. Next year he did not come for her. She waited in a new frock because the old one simply would not meet, but he never came. Perhaps he is ill, Michael said. You know he is never ill. Michael came close to her and whispered with a shiver, perhaps there is no such person, Wendy, and then Wendy would have cried if Michael had not been crying. Peter came next spring cleaning, and the strange thing was that he never knew he had missed a year. That was the last time the girl Wendy ever saw him. For a little longer she tried, for his sake, not to have growing pains, and she felt she was untrue to him when she got a prize for general knowledge. But the years came and went without bringing the careless boy, and when they met again Wendy was a married woman. And Peter was no more to her than a little dust in the box in which she had kept her toys. Wendy was grown up. You need not be sorry for her.  In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than other girls. All the boys were grown up and done for by this time, so it is scarcely worth saying anything more about them. You may see the twins, nibs and curly, any day going into an office, each carrying a little bag and an umbrella. Michael is an engine driver. Slightly married a lady of title, and so he became a lord. You see that judge in a wig coming out the iron door? That used to be Toodles. The bearded man who doesn't know any story to tell his children was once John. Wendy was married in white with a pink sash. It is strange to think that Peter did not alight in the church and forbid the bands. Years rolled on again, and Wendy had a daughter. This ought not to be written in ink, but in a golden splash. She was called Jane, and always had an odd, inquiring look, as if from the moment she arrived on the mainland she wanted to ask questions. When she was old enough to ask them they were mostly about Peter Pan. She loved to hear of Peter, and Wendy told her all she could remember in the very nursery from which the famous flight had taken place. It was Jane's nursery now, for her father had bought it at the three percents from Wendy's father, who was no longer fond of stares. Mrs. Darling was now dead and forgotten. There were only two beds in the nursery now, Jane's and her nurses, and there was no kennel for Nana had also passed away. She died of old age, and at the end she had been rather difficult to get on with, being very firmly convinced that no one knew how to look after children except herself. Once a week Jane's nurse had her evening off, and then it was Wendy's part to put Jane to bed. That was the time for stories. It was Jane's invention to raise the sheet over her mother's head in her own, this making a tent, and in the awful darkness to whisper, What do we see now? I don't think I see anything tonight, says Wendy, with a feeling that if Nana were here she would object to further conversation. Yes you do, says Jane, you see when you were a little girl. That is a long time ago, sweetheart, says Wendy. Ah, me, how time flies. Does it fly? asked the artful child, the way you flew when you were a little girl. The way I flew. Do you know, Jane, I sometimes wonder whether I ever did really fly. Yes you did. The dear old days when I could fly. Why can't you fly now, mother? Because I am grown up, dearest, when people grow up they forget the way. Why do they forget the way?  It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly.  I do wish I were gay and innocent and heartless. Or perhaps Wendy admits she does see something. I do believe, she says, that it is this nursery. I do believe it is, says Jane, go on. They are now embarked on the great adventure of the night when Peter flew in looking for his shadow. The foolish fellow, says Wendy, tried to stick it on with soap, and when he could not he cried, and that woke me, and I sewed it on for him.  When you saw him sitting on the floor crying, what did you say? I sat up in bed and I said, Boy, why are you crying? Yes, that was it, says Jane, with a big breath. And then he flew us all the way to Neverland, and the fairies and the pirates and the redskins and the mermaids lagoon and the home under the ground and the little house. Yes, which did you like best of all? I think I liked the home under the ground best of all. Yes, so do I. What was the last thing Peter ever said to you? The last thing he ever said to me was, Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing. Yes. But alas, he forgot all about me. Wendy said it with a smile. She was as grown up as that. What did his crow sound like? Jane asked one evening. It was like this, Wendy said, trying to imitate Peter's crow. No it wasn't, Jane said gravely. It was like this.  Wendy was a little startled. My darling, how can you know? I often hear it when I am sleeping, Jane said. Ah, yes, many girls hear it while they are sleeping, but I was the only one who heard it awake. Lucky you, said Jane. And then one night came the tragedy. It was the spring of the year, and the story had been told for the night, and Jane was now asleep in her bed. Wendy was sitting on the floor, very close to the fire, so as to see to darn, for there was no other light in the nursery, and while she was darning she heard a crow. Then the window blew open as of old, and Peter dropped in on the floor. He was exactly the same as ever, and Wendy saw it once that he still had alas' first teeth. He was a little boy, and she was grown up. She huddled by the fire, not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman. Hello, Wendy, he said, not noticing any difference, for he was thinking chiefly of himself, and in the dim light her white dress might have been the nightgown in which he had seen her first. Hello, Peter, she replied faintly, squeezing herself as small as possible. Something inside her was crying, woman, woman, let go of me. Hello, where is John? he asked, suddenly missing in the third bed. John is not here now, she gassed. Is Michael asleep? he asked, with a careless glance at Jane. Yes, she answered, and now she felt that she was untrue to Jane, as well as to Peter. That is not Michael, she said quickly, lest a judgment should fall on her. Peter looked. Hello, is it a new one? Yes. Boy or girl? Girl. Now surely he would understand, but not a bit of it. Peter, she said falteringly, are you expecting me to fly away with you? Of course, that is why I have come, he added a little certainly. Have you forgotten that this is spring cleaning time? She knew it was useless to say that he had let many spring cleaning times pass. I can't come, she said apologetically, I have forgotten how to fly. I'll soon teach you again. Oh, Peter, don't waste the fairy dust on me. She had risen, and now at last a fear assailed him. What is it, he cried, shrinking? I will turn up the light, she said, and then you can see for yourself. For almost the only time in his life that I know of, Peter was afraid. Don't turn up the light, he cried. She let her hands play on the hair of the tragic boy. She was not a little girl broken-hearted about him. She was a grown woman smiling at it all, but they were wet-eyed smiles. Then she turned up the light and Peter saw.  What is it, he cried again. She had to tell him. I am old, Peter. I am ever so much more than twenty. I grew up long ago. You promised not to. I couldn't help it. I'm a married woman, Peter. No, you're not. Yes, and the little girl in the bed is my baby. No, she's not. But he supposed she was, and he took a step towards the sleeping child with his dagger upraised. Of course he did not strike. He sat down on the floor instead and sobbed, and Wendy did not know how to comfort him, though she could have done it so easily once. She was only a woman now, and she ran out of the room to try to think. Peter continued to cry, and soon his sobs woke Jane. She sat up in bed and was interested at once. Boy, she said, why are you crying? Peter rose and bowed to her, and she bowed to him from the bed. Hello, he said. Hello, said Jane. My name is Peter Pan, he told her. Yes, I know. I came back for my mother, he explained, to take her to the Neverland. Yes, I know, Jane said. I've been waiting for you. When Wendy returned diffidently, she found Peter sitting on the bed post crowing gloriously, while Jane in her nightie was flying around the room in solemn ecstasy. She is my mother, Peter explained, and Jane descended and stood by his side, with the look in her face that he liked to see on ladies when they gazed at him. He does so need a mother, Jane said. Yes, I know, Wendy admitted, rather forlornly. No one knows it so well as I. Goodbye, said Peter to Wendy, and he rose in the air, and the shameless Jane rose with him. It was already her easiest way of moving about. Wendy rushed to the window. No, no, she cried. It is just for the spring cleaning time, Jane said. He wants me always to do his spring cleaning. If only I could go with you, Wendy sighed. You see you can't fly, said Jane. Of course in the end Wendy let them fly away together. Our last glimpse of her shows her at the window, watching them receding into the sky until they were as small as stars. As you look at Wendy, you may see her hair becoming white, and her figure little again, for all this happened long ago. Jane is now a common grown-up, with a daughter called Margaret, and every spring cleaning time, except when he forgets, Peter comes for Margaret and takes her to the Neverland, where she tells him stories about himself, which he listens eagerly. When Margaret grows up she will have a daughter, who is to be Peter's mother in turn, and thus it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless. The End


I would like to put it in approximately three big points. I think one of the big challenges is to use all types of biomass so that we can combine agricultural biomass, forestry biomass and marine biomass and that we should have units that can also give the possibility to do refining locally of first steps in using these types of biomass so that we can continue and make more advanced products on other sites later on. So that comes to the second challenge, the functionalization of these resources and I think there is a great need in innovation. So here there is a need to not put too high demands on industry. We need industry. We really need to have industry partners to get good input on what's needed but we also need to do new innovation so that we can adapt the products to the new types of biomass that we are using. Fossils are less oxidized in general than the renewable biomass so we should adapt the products to this. And finally my third point in this goes back to the collaboration. It's super important with collaboration and in order to reach between researchers and industrial partners we need to have this correct scale so that we can make samples that are evaluated by industry so we are losing this valley of death.