One green light squinting over Kidd's Creek, which is near themouth of the pirate river, marked where the brig, the JOLLYROGER, lay, low in the water; a rakish-looking [speedy-looking] craft foul to the hull, every beam in her detestable, like groundstrewn with mangled feathers. She was the cannibal of the seas,and scarce needed that watchful eye, for she floated immune inthe horror of her name.

She was wrapped in the blanket of night, through which no soundfrom her could have reached the shore. There was little sound,and none agreeable save the whir of the ship's sewing machine atwhich Smee sat, ever industrious and obliging, the essence of thecommonplace, pathetic Smee. I know not why he was so infinitelypathetic, unless it were because he was so pathetically unawareof it; but even strong men had to turn hastily from looking athim, and more than once on summer evenings he had touched thefount of Hook's tears and made it flow. Of this, as of almosteverything else, Smee was quite unconscious.

A few of the pirates leant over the bulwarks, drinking in themiasma [putrid mist] of the night; others sprawled by barrels overgames of dice and cards; and the exhausted four who had carriedthe little house lay prone on the deck, where even in their sleepthey rolled skillfully to this side or that out of Hook's reach,lest he should claw them mechanically in passing.

Hook trod the deck in thought. O man unfathomable. It was hishour of triumph. Peter had been removed for ever from his path,and all the other boys were in the brig, about to walk the plank. It was his grimmest deed since the days when he had broughtBarbecue to heel; and knowing as we do how vain a tabernacle isman, 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 theaction of his sombre mind. Hook was profoundly dejected.

He was often thus when communing with himself on board ship inthe quietude of the night. It was because he was so terriblyalone. This inscrutable man never felt more alone than whensurrounded by his dogs. They were socially inferior to him.

Hook was not his true name. To reveal who he really was wouldeven at this date set the country in a blaze; but as those whoread between the lines must already have guessed, he had been ata famous public school; and its traditions still clung to himlike garments, with which indeed they are largely concerned. Thus it was offensive to him even now to board a ship in thesame dress in which he grappled [attacked] her, and he stilladhered in his walk to the school's distinguished slouch. Butabove all he retained the passion for good form.

Good form! However much he may have degenerated, he still knewthat 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 thenight when one cannot sleep. "Have you been good form to-day?"was their eternal question.

"Fame, fame, that glittering bauble, it is mine," he cried.

"Is it quite good form to be distinguished at anything?" thetap-tap from his school replied.

"I am the only man whom Barbecue feared," he urged, "and Flintfeared Barbecue."

"Barbecue, Flint -- what house?" came the cutting retort.

Most disquieting reflection of all, was it not bad form tothink about good form?

His vitals were tortured by this problem. It was a claw withinhim sharper than the iron one; and as it tore him, theperspiration dripped down his tallow [waxy] countenance andstreaked his doublet. Ofttimes he drew his sleeve across hisface, but there was no damming that trickle.

Ah, envy not Hook.

There came to him a presentiment of his early dissolution[death]. It was as if Peter's terrible oath had boarded theship. Hook felt a gloomy desire to make his dying speech, lestpresently 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 himselfin the third person.

"No little children to love me!"

Strange that he should think of this, which had never troubledhim before; perhaps the sewing machine brought it to his mind. For long he muttered to himself, staring at Smee, who washemming placidly, under the conviction that all children fearedhim.

Feared him! Feared Smee! There was not a child on board thebrig that night who did not already love him. He had said horridthings to them and hit them with the palm of his hand, because hecould not hit with his fist, but they had only clung to him themore. Michael had tried on his spectacles.

To tell poor Smee that they thought him lovable! Hook itchedto do it, but it seemed too brutal. Instead, he revolved thismystery in his mind: why do they find Smee lovable? He pursuedthe problem like the sleuth-hound that he was. If Smee waslovable, what was it that made him so? A terrible answersuddenly presented itself--"Good form?"

Had the bo'sun good form without knowing it, which is the bestform of all?

He remembered that you have to prove you don't know you have itbefore you are eligible for Pop [an elite social club at Eton].

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 [powerless] as he was damp,and he fell forward like a cut flower.

His dogs thinking him out of the way for a time, disciplineinstantly relaxed; and they broke into a bacchanalian [drunken]dance, which brought him to his feet at once, all traces of humanweakness gone, as if a bucket of water had passed over him.

"Quiet, you scugs," he cried, "or I'll cast anchor in you"; andat once the din was hushed. "Are all the children chained, sothat they cannot fly away?"

"Ay, ay."

"Then hoist them up."

The wretched prisoners were dragged from the hold, all exceptWendy, and ranged in line in front of him. For a time he seemedunconscious of their presence. He lolled at his ease, humming,not unmelodiously, snatches of a rude song, and fingering a packof cards. Ever and anon the light from his cigar gave a touch ofcolour to his face.

"Now then, bullies," he said briskly, "six of you walk theplank to-night, but I have room for two cabin boys. Which of youis it to be?"

"Don't irritate him unnecessarily," had been Wendy'sinstructions in the hold; so Tootles stepped forward politely. Tootles hated the idea of signing under such a man, but aninstinct told him that it would be prudent to lay theresponsibility on an absent person; and though a somewhat sillyboy, he knew that mothers alone are always willing to be thebuffer. All children know this about mothers, and despise themfor it, but make constant use of it.

So Tootles explained prudently, "You see, sir, I don't think mymother would like me to be a pirate. Would your mother like youto be a pirate, Slightly?"

He winked at Slightly, who said mournfully, "I don't think so,"as if he wished things had been otherwise. "Would your motherlike you to be a pirate, Twin?"

"I don't think so," said the first twin, as clever as theothers. "Nibs, would -- "

"Stow this gab," roared Hook, and the spokesmen were draggedback. "You, boy," he said, addressing John, "you look as if youhad a little pluck in you. Didst never want to be a pirate, myhearty?"

Now John had sometimes experienced this hankering at maths.prep.; and he was struck by Hook's picking him out.

"I once thought of calling myself Red-handed Jack," he saiddiffidently.

"And a good name too. We'll call you that here, bully, if youjoin."

"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 King?" Johninquired.

Through Hook's teeth came the answer: "You would have toswear, `Down with the King.'"

Perhaps John had not behaved very well so far, but he shone outnow.

"Then I refuse," he cried, banging the barrel in front of Hook.

"And I refuse," cried Michael.

"Rule Britannia!" squeaked Curly.

The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth; and Hookroared out, "That seals your doom. Bring up their mother. Getthe plank ready."

They were only boys, and they went white as they saw Jukes andCecco preparing the fatal plank. But they tried to look bravewhen 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 piratecalling; but all that she saw was that the ship had not beentidied for years. There was not a porthole on the grimy glassof which you might not have written with your finger "Dirty pig";and she had already written it on several. But as the boysgathered round her she had no thought, of course, save for them.

"So, my beauty," said Hook, as if he spoke in syrup, "you areto see your children walk the plank."

Fine gentlemen though he was, the intensity of his communingshad soiled his ruff, and suddenly he knew that she was gazing atit. 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 frightfulcontempt that he nearly fainted.

"They are," he snarled. "Silence all," he called gloatingly,"for a mother's last words to her children."At this moment Wendy was grand. "These are my last words, dearboys," she said firmly. "I feel that I have a message to youfrom your real mothers, and it is this: `We hope our sons willdie like English gentlemen.'"

Even the pirates were awed, and Tootles 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.

"Tie her up!" he shouted.

It was Smee who tied her to the mast. "See here, honey," hewhispered, "I'll save you if you promise to be my mother."

But not even for Smee would she make such a promise. "I wouldalmost rather have no children at all," she said disdainfully[scornfully].

It is sad to know that not a boy was looking at her as Smeetied her to the mast; the eyes of all were on the plank: thatlast little walk they were about to take. They were no longerable to hope that they would walk it manfully, for the capacityto think had gone from them; they could stare and shiver only.

Hook smiled on them with his teeth closed, and took a steptoward Wendy. His intention was to turn her face so that sheshould see they boys walking the plank one by one. But he neverreached her, he never heard the cry of anguish he hoped to wringfrom her. He heard something else instead.

It was the terrible tick-tick of the crocodile.

They all heard it -- pirates, boys, Wendy; and immediatelyevery head was blown in one direction; not to the water whencethe sound proceeded, but toward Hook. All knew that what wasabout to happen concerned him alone, and that from being actorsthey were suddenly become spectators.

Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. Itwas as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in alittle heap.

The sound came steadily nearer; and in advance of it came thisghastly thought, "The crocodile is about to board the ship!"

Even the iron claw hung inactive; as if knowing that it was nointrinsic part of what the attacking force wanted. Left sofearfully alone, any other man would have lain with his eyes shutwhere he fell: but the gigantic brain of Hook was still working,and under its guidance he crawled on the knees along the deck asfar from the sound as he could go. The pirates respectfullycleared a passage for him, and it was only when he brought upagainst the bulwarks that he spoke.

"Hide me!" he cried hoarsely.

They gathered round him, all eyes averted from the thing thatwas coming aboard. They had no thought of fighting it. It wasFate.

Only when Hook was hidden from them did curiosity loosen thelimbs of the boys so that they could rush to the ship's side tosee the crocodile climbing it. Then they got the strangestsurprise of the Night of Nights; for it was no crocodile that wascoming to their aid. It was Peter.

He signed to them not to give vent to any cry of admirationthat might rouse suspicion. Then he went on ticking.