The ship looms large now, the sides the same dark wood as the rest of it. It rests on the waves, unbothered by the full moon or the black water beneath it. Above, I see shapes hurrying along the decks, some of them calling out to each other with nautical terms that have zero meaning for me.
It sends a chill through me, that this hulking craft of wood and treachery will probably be my last stop on my trip to Neverland.
Once again, I wonder if I’ll simply wake up. Walk the plank, wake up in my dorm room. Strung up on a rope, wake in my dorm. Sliced from ear to ear, asleep and drooling on my desk. I snicker to myself at the mix of gallows humor and false hope. Now that I’ve been here long enough, it’s the real world that begins to seem fantastical.
“Plummeted like Icarus, I tell you.” Someone’s voice echoes across the water, and I look up to find a pirate gawking down at us. “But here they are, not a lost limb between them.”
“Smee, stop your yapping and drop the tackles!” Starkey eases up on the oars, and we float closer to the brigand’s ship.
I can’t help but shiver as the ocean breeze brushes past me.
A wood frame swings out above us, and ropes are lowered from it. Once they reach the boat, Starkey and my pirate make quick work of getting our small boat hooked up. Then someone above yells, and a pulley begins to turn with a creak as we rise from the water.
“Hang on, lass.” My pirate stands, his balance impossibly good despite the wobbling of the boat, and grips the rope overhead, keeping it steady as we ascend.
“Swing her in!” another man yells as we crest the top deck of the ship, and the wooden frame pulls us onto the deck and lowers us slowly.
“Make fast, Starkey.” My pirate jumps out onto the deck, then offers me his hands.
I look around at the ship and meet several sets of curious eyes, though no one speaks to me. Starkey busies himself with pulling ropes tight and securing the rowboat onto the Jolly Roger’s deck.
I have nowhere else to go. It’s not like I’m going to jump back into the sea or somehow figure out how to lower the rowboat and escape. I don’t want to be here, but that choice wasn’t mine in the first place.
With a sigh, I reach for the pirate. He grips my waist and lifts me from the rowboat and onto the polished deck. I drip all over it, my clothes still drenched with seawater, but no one says anything.
A man with spectacles hurries up, his attire not terribly pirate-y either. Unlike Starkey, this pirate looks more like an accountant. A neat haircut and an even neater tunic with leather pants, he seems to have every hair in place. Giving me an appraising look, his brows draw together, worry in his eyes.
“Smee, escort her to the captain’s quarters.” My pirate gestures for me to follow the accountant.
“Hey, wait, I …” Completely ignoring me, my pirate stalks off toward the front of the ship. “Hey!” I yell after him, but he doesn’t turn around.
I jump as Starkey lands on the deck beside me. “Jeez!”
“I can take her to the captain’s quarters, Smee.” Starkey gives me a charming smile. “Give us a chance to get to know each other.”
If I didn’t already suspect he was a fuckboy, I know now for sure. Blond hair, bright green eyes, and dimples for days—he’s as handsome as they come, not to mention the physique. I suppose a pirate’s life keeps you in shape.
“No, thank you.” Smee cuts between the two of us and takes my elbow. “Right this way, miss.”
He leads me down the dark wood deck, pirates scattering this way and that as we pass ropes, masts, and various openings that lead to lower decks. I’m no expert on pirate ships—or any ships, for that matter—but this one certainly seems huge.
A rhythmic, grinding noise catches my attention, and I watch as two men, both shirtless, turn a crank attached to a thick chain that disappears beneath the water.
“What’s that?”
Smee stops and looks at me, his mouth twisting in disdain. “The anchor, of course.”
Something in the way he says it rubs me raw. “Look, buddy, I don’t need that tone, okay? I’m being kidnappedagain, and I’d rather not have to deal with your condescending attitude while I’m at it!” I snap.
His eyes widen, the spectacles dropping to the end of his nose.
What am I doing? Am I trying to get myself thrown into the sea to drown? Or worse, get eaten by mermaids? I step back from him and hold my breath.
“You tell him, girl.” A pirate strides by with a huge coil of rope over one shoulder and golden hoops dangling from his ears. “Smee needs someone to knock some sense into him.”
I recognize him from my first night on the island. He’s the one with the Italian accent who has a mermaid lover.
“Oh, shut it, Cecco,” Smee grumbles and motions for me to follow him.
