The pirates about Peter chanted wildly: "Show us the Hook! Hook! Hook! Show us the Hook! Hook! Hook!"

One thing Peter Banning was not was a coward. But he also understood that at times discretion was the better part of valor. He found himself wondering if now wasn't one of those times. Perhaps Tink had been right. Perhaps he wasn't ready for Hook.

Unfortunately, it was too late to worry about that now. The pirates were sweeping up the gangplank and onto the ship, and Peter was being swept right along with them.

^{Hook Confronted}

Crammed port to starboard and bowsprit to mainmast aboard the brigantine Jolly Roger, the pirates roared out, "Hook! Hook! Hook!" Arms raised, some brandishing weapons, some bare fists. The pirate ship rocked with their cries.

Atop the quarter deck, Smee stepped forward and signaled for silence.

"Good mawning, Neverlaaaannd!" he bellowed, cheeks puffing out, belly shaking. "Tie down the mainsail, mates, 'cause here he is-the cunning kingfish, the baaad barracuda, the sleaziest sleaze of the seven seas, and a shipshape dresser to boot, a man so deep he's nearly unfathomable and so quick he's even fast asleep! I give you our very own steel-handed stingray-Cap'n James Hook!"

A pirate named Tickles pumped wildly at a concertina white cannons exploded in sheets of fire and the cheers of the pirate crew rose to new heights.

From behind Smee, the doors to the captain's cabin burst wide and out strode the infamous James Hook.

At first glance he looked very like his ship-or perhaps it was the other way around. He was sleek and narrow and wicked looking from his sharp-nosed face to his pointed toes. His captain's coat was cut from red and black cloth and trimmed in gold filigree. He wore a gold-fringed sash across one shoulder with a cutlass sheathed at its loop. Ruffled white lace hung at his neck, and the angular face above it was reminiscent of a ship's prow cutting through a sea's white froth. His black hair hung down about bis shoulders in ringlets like the rigging from a mast. His captain's tricorne was broad-brimmed and tailored and looked exactly like the aft railing of his vessel save for the absence of serpents hissing at its corners. What was lacking in serpents, however, was more than made up for in Hook's face. Cruel, hard, sneering, with mustaches that coiled like vipers and eyes that could freeze a bird in flight, he was a formidable-looking figure standing there before his riotous band of brigands.

At the end of his left hand he had affixed the dreaded hook for which he was so well known, its newly sharpened hook point gleaming in the sunlight.

His sneer firmly in place as he faced the crowd, he lifted his lace-sleeved right hand condescendingly in acknowledgment of their adulation.

"See how greatly the men favor you, sir!" prompted Smee, beaming.

Hook's lip curled and out of the corner of his mouth he whispered, "The puling spawn. How I despise them."

Two hundred strong, and not a man among them could read past the second grade, only one or two could distinguish a spoon from a fork, and less than a handful could count to ten. It was disgusting.

Hook sighed. Still, they were his to command.

"Gentlemen!" he called out. "You ignorant, flogging, sorry, parasitic sacks of entrails!"

His crew cheered wildly at the praise.

Hook's claw slashed the air. "Revenge!" There was instant silence. Hook beamed. "Is mine. I have baited the hook-so to speak-with the fish's children. Peter Pan's kids will bring him to me. At long last I will be rid of that loathsome boy who cut off my hand and…" His voice lowered into the darkest recesses of his throat. "And threw it to the crocodile."

He choked on the words and could not go on. Smee quickly leaped into the gap.

"And who was it killed that cunnin' croc?" he demanded.

"Hook! Hook! Hook!" roared the pirates as one.

"Who stuffed 'im and quieted 'is clock for good?"

"Hook! Hook! Hook!"

"Who went 'round the world to snatch Pan's kids, all the way to England, sailing' uncharted waters and bravin' unknown perils?"

"Hook! Hook! Hook!"

The captain had recovered himself sufficiently to realize that Smee was usurping his speech. He collared his bosun roughly and shoved him aside.

"It's my show, Smee," he hissed. "Go away." He turned to his crew once more, and his gaze turned dark. "Now then-which of you doubted me?"

The raucous crowd quieted uneasily.

"That's right!" Hook snapped. "There's a doubter out there. Where is he? Who among us does not belong? Someone here does not belong."

He let his eyes flit across their terrified faces.

"A stranger amongst the loyal! He must be weeded out!"

Now there was utter silence. All the pirates stood frozen in place, not daring the twitch of an eyebrow, not the flicker of a lash. No one wanted to call attention to himself now. You could have heard a pin drop…

And suddenly one did. A pirate foolish enough to attempt to wipe the sweat from his brow loosened a silver stickpin from his cap and sent it tumbling to the deck.

Ping!

Every eye turned toward the unfortunate.

Hook snarled. He started to descend the quarterdeck stairs and abruptly stopped, horrified. His gaze settled on Smee.

"Where's my carpet, Smee?"

Smee gulped. "Sorry, Cap'n. Sorry, your worship." The bosun stamped on the deck purposefully. Gears groaned and squeaked, and the stairs flipped over to reveal a red carpet tacked beneath. Hook smiled and continued down. A long finger lifted and pointed.

"You! You, sir, you!"

Every pirate tried to disappear into the ship's woodwork.

"You!" he ignored the pin offender and pointed his hook toward a ratty little pirate hanging off to one side by a cringing, fat, one-legged pirate with atrocious taste in clothes. "Yes, you!" He forced himself to ignore the other. "You bet against me bringing Pan here, didn't you, you slimy bilge rat?"

The pirate, whose name was Gutless, though Hook wouldn't have remembered if given a week of Sundays to try, cringed as the captain approached. "No, Cap'n, I swear on me mother's sweet soul. I didn't, I didn't!"

Hook reached him, smiled, bent down, and gave him a fatherly pat on one shoulder. "Tell the truth now, come on, Captain wants to hear the truth…"

Gutless collapsed in Hook's arms, sobbing. "Oh, I did, I did!"

Hook's smile turned frosty. "Well, you made a boo-boo. The boo-boo box for you, then."

He shoved the other away disdainfully. Gutless crumpled to the deck, wailing. Other pirates reached down for him instantly, hauled him to his feet, and dragged him away.

Hook sauntered on, the crowd parting before him. "Don't think I didn't hear those who whispered when they thought I couldn't hear, 'He's off! Hook's finished!' "

"Or those who said, "That limp metal no-fingers will never rise again!' " added Smee before he could think better of it.

Hook gave him a withering glance. Off to one side, the lid to a coffinlike box was thrown open and Gutless was shoved inside, still sobbing pitifully. A bag filled with snakes, spiders, and centipedes was shoved in after him. Hook was pleased to discover that when the lid slammed shut, the cries quickly diminished.

"Look around, you scavengers!" he advised sternly, gesturing toward the remnants of the hulks that formed the buildings of the waterfront. "Look around and take note of the trophies I have won for you so that you could live a pirate life in a pirate city."

"It's paradise!" one pirate cried out enthusiastically.

"Yesss, isn't it?" Hook sniffed. Such idiots. "Raise your weapons high, mates!" he shouted suddenly. Cutlasses, clubs, daggers, pistols, and blunderbusses were hoisted aloft. Hook smiled wickedly. "Proud pirates, mates one and all, prepare yourselves for a celebration! Prepare for the killing of youth, the maiming of joy, and the strangling of innocence in her fetid cradle! Peter Pan is coming soon! And when he does, I will grind his bones to dust and salt my food with the leavings. I'll hurl Pan into the blackest abyss, the deepest coldest chasm, right off the face of the earth for all time!" Hook's arms rose. "I shall have my glorious war, and I shall win it!"