Chapter 3: Peter's Awaited Return

201 4 1
                                    

The yellow sun was hot and bright. The massive ship that was the Jolly Roger gently rocked on the calm waters of Pirate's Cove. The mermaids sat off to the side on the large rocks that jutted out from the sea, basking in the rays and enjoying the peace and quiet of the afternoon. On the main deck of the ship, four of the crew members sat at a small round table, playing cards and passing a cigar around, while the others slept in chairs, against the deck barrier, or in the crow's nest, softly snoring with their arms crossed, some with a bottle loosely hanging in their hand. The ones who weren't sleeping or playing cards quietly hummed and fished or simply stared out into the sea, a longing gaze in their eyes.

   Past the sleeping pirates, and the card playing pirates, and the longing pirates at the very end of the deck, was a wooden door with a shiny brass handle, and through this door was a dusty, but smug office known as the Captain's Quarters. And at a large oak desk, smothered with maps and ash, sat many high stacks of golden coins.

And seated behind the desk in a plush velvety chair, was the notorious captain himself, Captain Hook, carefully adding more coins to the stacks, counting under his breath.

  Hook was a dangerous looking man, capable of putting a bullet through one of his own crew, which he has done many times before. His eyes were dark and cold like a raging storm, while the rest of his face only added to his menacing look, being scarred and pale. His nose was crooked and his mouth was thin and colorless. His mustache rested under his nose, pointing outwards to each side like the hands of a clock. Hook's greasy black locks of hair, peppered with grey, fell over his shoulders, and the light glinted off of his silver sharpened hook. It could only be the look of evil.

  With a steady hand and focused precision, Hook carefully added the last coin to the final stack. After seeing that it was going to stay, the Captain slowly pulled his arm away and leaned back in his chair, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction.

  Right at that moment, Smee burst in through the door with a smile on his face, carrying a tray that held a bowl of sloshing soup. The door slammed against the wall sending the stacks of coins falling and clattering on top of the desk. The Captain winced and stopped a spinning coin.

"Fine afternoon, isn't it Cap'n?" Smee asked with the usual cheerfulness in his voice. He obliviously sat the tray down on the desk, took a handkerchief off of the tray, and made his way around the desk to Hook. As Smee tucked the lace cloth into the collar of The Captain's blouse, Hook placed his hand on his forehead and sighed, vexed.

"Smee, how many times have I asked you to knock, you fool?" Hook pushed Smee's hands away and picked up the bowl of soup to set it in front of himself.

"My fault Sir. I just assumed you'd be countin' coins again like always." Smee stood in front of the desk and held his hands in front of him. Hook grunted and then picked up his spoon for a bite of soup.

"Speakin' o' always coutin' coins, the boys are complainin' of not havin' anything to do these days, Sir. We've all done the same thing over and over and..." Smee shuffled his feet and trailed off.

Hook shot him a puzzled look. "Well...get on with it, man!"

"The boys were wantin' to know if we could finally leave the island since it doesn't seem like Peter P-"

Hook quickly arose from his chair and slammed his fist onto the table, pointing his hooked hand at Smee. "Do not speak that devil's name! I've already told you we will wait here a thousand years if we have to until he comes back! That flying pest needs to be squashed once and for all. I just know he's hiding out around here somewhere." He said with a wave of his hand.

"B-but Capn', if he's already gone, then what's the point of takin' chances and waitin' for him to show up?"

Hook stormed over to Smee, his heavy boots thundering across the wooden floors, looking him dead into the eyes.

The Legacy of Peter PanWhere stories live. Discover now