From the quarterdeck, Hook watched, taking time to unsheathe his sword and practice a quick series of thrusts and parries. Jack, forgotten momentarily, watched the battle with an uncertain frown.

There was something familiar about Peter Pan.

"Don't I know him, Captain?" he asked cautiously.

"You've never seen him before in your life," Hook sneered, concentrating on his form.

The pirate attack was tightening about Peter, the sea of weapons coming closer and closer. Jukes and Noodler had regained their feet and were encouraging their fellows. Peter waited until they were almost on top of him, then launched himself skyward, flying up to the yardarm, where he shouted down to Jack.

"Jack! Jack, listen to me! You won't believe this, but I found my happy thought! It took three days, Jack, but when I finally did it, up I went! You know what my happy thought was, Jack? It was you!"

Hook was livid. Whirling away, he rushed to the deck railing and slashed the rope that bound the cargo net- which hung poised directly over Peter Pan.

Instinctively Jack cried out in warning, not stopping to think what he was saying. "Dad! Look out!"

Too late. The heavy cargo net collapsed on Peter, dragging him off the yardarm and down to the deck. Pirates descended on him with a yell, weapons flashing. Peter struggled to his feet, straightened with the Pan sword held high, and gave forth a battle crow.

Jack's jaw dropped. "That is my Dad!" he whispered to himself in disbelief. "It really is!"

Suddenly there were answering crows from all about and the Lost Boys appeared. They came from everywhere at once, yelling and sounding their battle cries. War paint streaked their faces, and they wore armor to shield their bodies-helmets formed of hollo wed-out gourds, vests and knee and arm pads of bamboo sticks laced together with leather thongs, shoulder pads of shells and wood, and brightly colored feathers and ribbons hanging everywhere. Rufio led the first wave of Lost Boys, catapulting from a springboard onto the ship's rigging. The Lost Boys' skiff, the Dark Avenger, seemed to appear out of nowhere to swing in next to the Jolly Roger. A boarding party clambered up the side. Ace and a handful more launched themselves from cranes and ship spars that jutted from the wharf. Others swung down on ropes and crawled over the railing from the waters below.

Hook stared in disbelief. It seemed to be raining Lost Boys. He snatched Smee by the shirt front. "Call out the militia! We'll need every last man!"

Smee charged up the stairs to the aft deck and began ringing a brass bell. "Oh, dear, oh, dear! What about Smee?" he muttered, his enthusiasm for Hook's war noticeably diminished.

The Lost Boys and pirates engaged in battle, Rufio and his band swinging down out of the rigging with war clubs in hand to clash with sharp-edged steel. Peter had freed himself from the cargo net and joined them. The main deck turned instantly into a battleground.

Hook charged to the quarterdeck railing, his eyes bright. "By Billy Bones's blood, I love a good war! The perfect start to a perfect day!" He wheeled back to Jack. "It'll be your first taste of blood, eh, son?"

Jack's small face went pale. First taste of blood? He was beginning to think that being a pirate wasn't so wonderful after all.

A small band of Lost Boys rushed up the stairs of the quarterdeck, war clubs waving. But Hook met them at the top and tumbled them down again like dominoes.

A new cry rose as Thud Butt appeared on the wharf front with the remainder of the Lost Boys. He charged up the gangplank, bowling over pirates as he went, knocking several into the drink.

Amidships, Peter and Rufio had rallied a skirmish line of Lost Boys to face a pirate charge forming below the quarterdeck. Thud Butt and Ace hurried to join them. Crossbows, longbows, blowguns, and slingshots released, sending a hail of hard, knobby, glue-tipped missiles into the pirates. Pistols and cutlasses went flying.

The pirate charge dissolved in a cacophony of yowls and screeches.

"Re-form your ranks, you bilge rats!" shrilled Hook in fury. "Remember the fires that forged you!"

The pirates, of course, had no idea what he was talking about, but hastened to obey anyway. It was doubtful that they knew what they were getting into, having learned nothing from their previous skirmishes with the Lost Boys. But they were nothing if not persistent, and so on they came, giving forth bloodcurdling cries amid clashes of steel.

At Peter's direction the Lost Boys formed two lines, the front kneeling, the back standing.

"Steady, boys," he soothed. "Let's show them the white light we're made from."

The pirates came on, howling. The Pan sword lifted.

"Front row-dazzle!" Peter cried.

Up rose a line of mirrors, catching the rising sun's brilliant light and sending it squarely back into the eyes of the attacking pirates. They squinted hopelessly, blinded by the glare. Pirates crashed into one another and tumbled down.

Then Ace appeared at the forefront of the Lost Boys holding a fearsome-looking cannon on which had been mounted a cage filled with squawking chickens. Ace swung the muzzle about, directing it at the pirates. Eggs shot out of the muzzle, splattering into the pirates, knocking them back. As fast as the chickens could lay, the eggs were fired. Yolks spat from the weapon in yellow streams. Eggshells ejected with a clatter. Faster lay the chickens and faster came the eggs.

And now the worst. Ace stepped back and the Lost Boy line re-formed. Bamboo tubes were lifted to shoulders, hand pumps were engaged, and streams of marbles caromed into the pirates and onto the deck. Feet skidded and pirates went down in a pile, arms and legs flailing.

More pirates appeared suddenly from the darkness of the tunnel, summoned by Smee's bell. They charged into the light, weapons drawn, shouting fiercely. But the Lost Boys were waiting. Two lines faced them. The front knelt with shoulder-braced Cataspluts drawn back. As the back dropped rotten tomatoes in place, the Cataspluts released. Once, twice, a third time. Pirates tumbled back, blinded and choking. Pirates slipped and slid into tangled heaps. When one misguided bunch attempted a frontal assault on the gangway, Thud Butt wrapped himself into a ball and the Lost Boys rolled him down the ramp, scattering the pirates like tenpins.

Rufio and a handful of Lost Boys had pried open the grating of the main hatch. As fast as pirates were captured, they were bundled up and rolled into the hold, cursing all the way. Bruised, egg-soaked, and tomato-splattered, Hook's crew was fast disappearing from view. Those who weren't shoved through the hatchways spilled down the gangplank onto the docks. Everywhere, the battle was being lost.

On the quarterdeck, Hook watched with a mix of despair and rage. Nothing was going as he had intended. "Smee," he wailed, "do something intelligent!"

Smee, not hesitating a moment, bolted into the captain's cabin. Hook glared. Very hard to get good help these days, he thought darkly.

He started for the quarterdeck stairs, determined that someone should pay for this injustice, and came face-to-face with Rufio.

"Hook!" the leader of the Lost Boys hissed.

Hook smiled and beckoned him on.

But then Peter was between them, having flown up from the main deck, the Pan sword cocked. "No, Rufio," he declared. "Hook's mine."

And the redoubtable captain might well have been, except that in the next instant Peter heard a familiar voice cry out from the docks below. "Jack! Jack! Help!"

"Maggie!" Peter cried out in recognition and off he flew again.

Down on the docks, the jailer whom Hook had entrusted with looking after Maggie and the slave kids had come to the conclusion that things weren't going the captain's way. Since his fearless leader was otherwise occupied at the moment and the path out of town seemed unobstructed, he decided now was a good time to think about saving himself.