Second on the Right (33 page)

"Absolutely."

Before Benedict was out of the cabin, James
had already begun to spread the parchment out on the table.

By morning, James had completed his task of
charting out the island of Neverland. It was a crude map, but would
serve his purpose well enough. He sat back in his chair, rubbing
his eyes and face with his hand. Benedict had been in and out of
the cabin, though James hardly took notice. He was too deep in
thought, remembering what the map had looked like in Patrick's
apartment before it had disintegrated.

"We head fer shore t'day. See tha blacksmith.
Not quite sure tha choice ye made was tha right one…," Benedict
trailed off, his eyes resting on the stump of James' right arm. He
shrugged. "Perhaps t'will be o' use ta ye."

"What choice have I?" James said, rubbing the
stump with his left hand. "I'd rather have a hand than a—" His
words failed.

"Are ye finished?" Benedict motioned to the
map.

"Aye," James replied, then corrected himself.
"Yes."

"Neverland?" Benedict asked. "Never heard of
it."

"Nor have I," James answered. "I discovered a
similar map back home. I need to locate this," he said, pointing to
the label '
Peter's Hideout
'. "I have no idea what I’ll find
there, but I must learn more of the creature's origins. He had the
appearance of a boy, yet his eyes held the look of an old
soul."

Benedict propped his feet up on the table. He
continued to look over the map as he asked, "Tell me 'bout tha boy.
He killed Eileen?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "Eileen and Robbie."
Then clearing his throat, his face hardened. "This boy, if he is a
boy, is not…well, at least I can't imagine he’s human. He had the
strength to kill my best friend and pull Eileen and Robbie to the
stern of the yacht. He had the power and agility to cut through my
wrist with his knife, taking my hand. I didn't even know knives
could
do
that."

"If yer strong enough…anythin' could be made
a weapon," Benedict murmured.

"Captain, the boy could
fly
. How is
that possible?"

Benedict’s head shot up. Memories of when he
was a young cabin boy came flooding back. Was the past finally
catching up to him, or was this all coincidence?

James continued, "It's probably a long shot,
going to this island. But I have to see with my own eyes. A boy,
but yet not a boy. Something more corrupt…
evil
. As if it
were some creature that had tapped into the Fountain of Youth, or
some sort of nonsense. A guess. I honestly know nothing of this
creature, other than the name he gave me: Peter."

“Peter…,” Benedict whispered.

James stopped pacing. "Oh yes…that and the
fact that he has ruined my life!" he said.

Benedict took in a breath and exhaled
forcefully. "James," he warned. "Ye need ta control that rage.
It'll do ye no good in battle. Or anywhere’s else, for that
matter."

James glared at him, but then calmed down.
Benedict was right, again. James’ jaw tightened.

"I plan ta go with ye, ta survey the island.
Ta see tha boy."

"I said he's mine!" James snapped.

"At ease, lad," he chuckled. "I won't take
away what is yers. I merely want ta see 'im. Get a better idea what
yer up against. Then we'll take a ship and crew for ye. And then ye
can be on yer way ta revenge."

"It be time for ye ta go ashore. When ye
return, we set sail for El Tiburón."

A few crewmen joined James on the trip to
shore. As they gathered supplies, he stopped by the blacksmith’s
shop, located a short distance away from the main part of town. The
shop was a tall structure. The large doors were open to allow the
cool sea breeze to run through. Despite the wind from the ocean,
the inside of the building was stifling.

Benedict strolled about the place, picking up
random weapons as if he were an inspector. One sword in particular
seemed to catch his interest. He picked up the blade and examined
the clamshell hilt. Every once in a while he would give a swipe at
the air. The smithy knew him well and said nothing, but kept a
watchful eye on the pirate.

James examined the various weapons hung on
the walls. The blacksmith called James over. On the old scraped and
scarred wooden table, he placed a rapier. It was relatively long
and slender, with both edges sharpened and a guard for protecting
the hand. The cupped hilt itself was decorated with complex
engravings. Due to the limited space, the blacksmith had carved in
"JAS" for James. Though the style was Spanish in origin, James
agreed with the smithy’s choice. It was best to have a cup rather
than complex but open hilt. He couldn’t afford to lose his left
hand.

Once James received the hook, harness, and
the sword, Benedict stepped forward to complete payment. He set a
few small daggers and one sword on the table. “I’ll be takin’ this
as well,” Benedict noted and the two men initiated
negotiations.

James noted the additional
purchases. His eyes widened at the sight. The clamshell sword
Benedict was purchasing look to be an exact copy of the one that
hung over his father’s fireplace. He chided himself silent.
It’s the same sword, moron. It’s been passed down
through the Benedict family line.

When James finished his visit with the
blacksmith, he returned to where the crew was waiting and boarded
the small boat. The harness fit snugly. It extended up and over the
back of his shoulders and across his chest. The buckle fastened at
his mid-chest. Straps, similar to a brace, ran down his right arm,
attaching to a cap. The cap completely covered the stump. On the
flat portion of the cap was a key hole, where the base of the hook
could be inserted, turned and locked into place.

Boarding the
Mistral Thief
, he made
his way below deck, avoiding any further contact with Benedict.
Benedict took notice, but waved it off. He was more interested in
the Neverland map. Manning the helm he pointed the
Mistral
Thief
to their next destination, El Tiburón. With a small sigh,
the captain handed over control to the quartermaster. He strolled
over to the side of the ship to watch as Saint Vincent Island
slowly shrunk out of his sight. Benedict loved the sea, but he had
hoped to spend more time ashore. He made up his mind that,
following the visit to El Tiburón and his promise to assist at
Neverland, he would make a point to return. With James serving as a
constant reminder of Eileen's absence, Benedict longed for female
companionship.

The
Mistral Thief
crashed through the
sea, pushing forward with the aid of the winds through its large
sails. Benedict’s thoughts dwelled on the mysterious island. He’d
never heard of Neverland, but that certainly didn’t mean it didn’t
exist. He hoped by offering to help James it would fulfill his
bargain with Daria. He pored over the Neverland map and frowned.
They were nearing El Tiburón, but he had yet to determine the best
place to anchor off Neverland.

"Bo'sun!" he shouted. Smythe ran up to the
helm.

"Yes, cap'n?" he asked, awaiting orders.

Benedict had a twinkle in his eyes. "I
beseech the presence of James Benedict to ascertain the coordinates
of that which we seek." He waited expectantly.

Smythe blinked at Benedict. He opened and
closed his mouth several times before nodding slowly. Still, he
hesitated.

Benedict rolled his eyes, knowing full well
the bo'sun was clueless. From time to time, he enjoyed playing with
words. They had the potential to hold such power over uneducated
men.

"Bring James to me," he said simply.

Smythe ran to the lower deck. He escorted
James to the helm where Benedict hovered over the map.

"Problem?" James inquired, avoiding eye
contact by focusing on the map.

"Aye. Be this the North shore o’ tha island?
Followin’ tha second star is not much ta go by. And, might ye know
tha depth o’ tha Cove?"

He stepped aside, allowing James to look over
the map. At last, James corrected and added what details that he
could. Benedict insisted on reviewing the corrections, to best plan
for the location to make anchor. James anxiously paced back and
forth behind him. The rhythmic pacing irritated Benedict. Unable to
stand it anymore, the Captain spun around and shouted, "Avast!"

James stopped. His eyes widened at Benedict's
sudden outburst. "P-pardon?" he stammered.

Benedict closed his eyes, taking in a deep
breath to suppress his anger. Opening them again, he gave a faint
smile, "I’ll thank ye ta stop pacin'."

The night grew its darkest, just before dawn,
when every man aboard the
Mistral Thief
heard a strange
triumphant crow. Benedict shot up with a start. Recognizing the
familiar sound, he grabbed hold of his sword and burst out onto the
deck. He could make out the figure of the boy, Peter.

He heard the sound of his crew, spooked by
the noise of what shouldn’t be on board a ship. They scurried to
light the deck lamps. As the light grew stronger, Benedict could
see more clearly a petite figure on the mast, hands on hips, weapon
at the side. Glancing back to the deck, he saw James coming from
below. Benedict decided to hold off on approaching the figure,
knowing of James' desire for revenge. He kept a watchful eye, fully
aware of James' tendency to act on impulse.

"Peter
,
" James said in a low growl.
"Show yourself!" he shouted.

“That crow. I’ve heard that before,” Benedict
commented.

Peter alighted onto the railing with such
ease and grace it irritated James. He gave a slight bow, as if
observing the niceties. Pulling one of two bags from his belt, he
held it up in his hand. James held the sheath of his sword with his
hook, struggling only momentarily to hurriedly unsheathe it.

Peter laughed and shook his bag, "Need a
hand?" He howled even more, causing chills to run through
James.

James advanced towards him, but stopped
short. Peter had reached into the bag he had been holding and had
removed a rotting hand, with fingers missing. It was all too
familiar to James: his right hand. James and Benedict cringed,
disgusted at the sight.

Peter tossed it at James, who jumped back in
disgusted. The splat of soft, decomposing flesh hit the wood. Peter
spun up in flight, and landed back down on the deck, retrieving the
hand. Pieces were left behind from its initial fall.

"No? Much happier with a hook, are we? You're
welcome
,
" he sneered. "There’s one who would appreciate a
hand. Yours, in fact." He floated to the railing to glance at the
waters below. "Come, take a look. I promise I won't bite," he
grinned, moving away to allow James to draw near.

James and Benedict cautiously took a glimpse.
What they saw was the silhouette of an enormous crocodile.