THE PIRATE SHIP
_The stage directions for the opening of this scene are as follows:--1
Circuit Amber checked to 80. Battens, all Amber checked, 3 ship’s
lanterns alight, Arcs: prompt perch 1. Open dark amber flooding back,
O.P. perch open dark amber flooding upper deck. Arc on tall steps at
back of cabin to flood back cloth. Open dark Amber. Warning for slide.
Plank ready. Call Hook._
_In the strange light thus described we see what is happening on the
deck of the_ Jolly Roger, _which is flying the skull and crossbones and
lies low in the water. There is no need to call Hook, for he is here
already, and indeed there is not a pirate aboard who would dare to call
him. Most of them are at present carousing in the bowels of the vessel,
but on the poop Mullins is visible, in the only great-coat on the ship,
raking with his glass the monstrous rocks within which the lagoon is
cooped. Such a look-out is supererogatory, for the pirate craft floats
immune in the horror of her name._
_From Hook’s cabin at the back Starkey appears and leans over the
bulwark, silently surveying the sullen waters. He is bare-headed and is
perhaps thinking with bitterness of his hat, which he sometimes sees
still drifting past him with the Never bird sitting on it. The black
pirate is asleep on deck, yet even in his dreams rolling mechanically
out of the way when Hook draws near. The only sound to be heard is made
by Smee at his sewing-machine, which lends a touch of domesticity to
the night._
_Hook is now leaning against the mast, now prowling the deck, the
double cigar in his mouth. With Peter surely at last removed from his
path we, who know how vain a tabernacle is man, would not be surprised
to find him bellied out by the winds of his success, but it is not so;
he is still uneasy, looking long and meaninglessly at familiar objects,
such as the ship’s bell or the Long Tom, like one who may shortly be
a stranger to them. It is as if Pan’s terrible oath ‘Hook or me this
time!’ had already boarded the ship._
HOOK (_communing with his ego_). How still the night is; nothing
sounds alive. Now is the hour when children in their homes are a-bed;
their lips bright-browned with the good-night chocolate, and their
tongues drowsily searching for belated crumbs housed insecurely on
their shining cheeks. Compare with them the children on this boat
about to walk the plank. Split my infinitives, but ’tis my hour of
triumph! (_Clinging to this fair prospect he dances a few jubilant
steps, but they fall below his usual form._) And yet some disky spirit
compels me now to make my dying speech, lest when dying there may be
no time for it. All mortals envy me, yet better perhaps for Hook to
have had less ambition! O fame, fame, thou glittering bauble, what if
the very---- (SMEE, _engrossed in his labours at the sewing-machine,
tears a piece of calico with a rending sound which makes the Solitary
think for a moment that the untoward has happened to his garments_.)
No little children love me. I am told they play at Peter Pan, and that
the strongest always chooses to be Peter. They would rather be a Twin
than Hook; they force the baby to be Hook. The baby! that is where
the canker gnaws. (_He contemplates his industrious boatswain._)
’Tis said they find Smee lovable. But an hour agone I found him
letting the youngest of them try on his spectacles. Pathetic Smee, the
Nonconformist pirate, a happy smile upon his face because he thinks
they fear him! How can I break it to him that they think him lovable?
No, bi-carbonate of Soda, no, not even---- (_Another rending of the
calico disturbs him, and he has a private consultation with_ STARKEY,
_who turns him round and evidently assures him that all is well. The
peroration of his speech is nevertheless for ever lost, as eight bells
strikes and his crew pour forth in bacchanalian orgy. From the poop
he watches their dance till it frets him beyond bearing._) Quiet, you
dogs, or I’ll cast anchor in you! (_He descends to a barrel on which
there are playing-cards, and his crew stand waiting, as ever, like
whipped curs._) Are all the prisoners chained, so that they can’t fly
away?
JUKES. Ay, ay, Captain.
HOOK. Then hoist them up.
STARKEY (_raising the door of the hold_). Tumble up, you ungentlemanly
lubbers.
(_The terrified boys are prodded up and tossed about the deck._ HOOK
_seems to have forgotten them; he is sitting by the barrel with his
cards_.)
HOOK (_suddenly_). So! Now then, you bullies, six of you walk the plank
to-night, but I have room for two cabin-boys. Which of you is it to be?
(_He returns to his cards._)
TOOTLES (_hoping to soothe him by putting the blame on the only person,
vaguely remembered, who is always willing to act as a buffer_). You
see, sir, I don’t think my mother would like me to be a pirate. Would
your mother like you to be a pirate, Slightly?
SLIGHTLY (_implying that otherwise it would be a pleasure to him to
oblige_). I don’t think so. Twin, would your mother like----
HOOK. Stow this gab. (_To_ JOHN) You boy, you look as if you had a
little pluck in you. Didst never want to be a pirate, my hearty?
JOHN (_dazzled by being singled out_). When I was at school I--what do
you think, Michael?
MICHAEL (_stepping into prominence_). What would you call me if I
joined?
HOOK. Blackbeard Joe.
MICHAEL. John, what do you think?
JOHN. Stop, should we still be respectful subjects of King George?
HOOK. You would have to swear ‘Down with King George.’
JOHN (_grandly_). Then I refuse!
MICHAEL. And I refuse.
HOOK. That seals your doom. Bring up their mother.
(WENDY _is driven up from the hold and thrown to him. She sees at the
first glance that the deck has not been scrubbed for years._)
So, my beauty, you are to see your children walk the plank.
WENDY (_with noble calmness_). Are they to die?
HOOK. They are. Silence all, for a mother’s last words to her children.
WENDY. These are my last words. Dear boys, I feel that I have a message
to you from your real mothers, and it is this, ‘We hope our sons will
die like English gentlemen.’
(_The boys go on fire._)
TOOTLES. I am going to do what my mother hopes. What are you to do,
Twin?
FIRST TWIN. What my mother hopes. John, what are----
HOOK. Tie her up! Get the plank ready.
(WENDY _is roped to the mast; but no one regards her, for all eyes
are fixed upon the plank now protruding from the poop over the ship’s
side. A great change, however, occurs in the time_ HOOK _takes to
raise his claw and point to this deadly engine. No one is now looking
at the plank: for the tick, tick of the crocodile is heard. Yet it
is not to bear on the crocodile that all eyes slew round, it is that
they may bear on_ HOOK. _Otherwise prisoners and captors are equally
inert, like actors in some play who have found themselves ‘on’ in a
scene in which they are not personally concerned. Even the iron claw
hangs inactive, as if aware that the crocodile is not coming for it.
Affection for their captain, now cowering from view, is not what has
given_ HOOK _his dominance over the crew, but as the menacing sound
draws nearer they close their eyes respectfully_.
_There is no crocodile. It is_ PETER, _who has been circling the
pirate ship, ticking as he flies far more superbly than any clock.
He drops into the water and climbs aboard, warning the captives
with upraised finger (but still ticking) not for the moment to give
audible expression to their natural admiration. Only one pirate sees
him_, WHIBBLES _of the eye patch, who comes up from below_. JOHN
_claps a hand on_ WHIBBLES’ _mouth to stifle the groan; four boys
hold him to prevent the thud_; PETER _delivers the blow, and the
carrion is thrown overboard. ‘One!’ says_ SLIGHTLY, _beginning to
count_.
STARKEY _is the first pirate to open his eyes. The ship seems to
him to be precisely as when he closed them. He cannot interpret
the sparkle that has come into the faces of the captives, who are
cleverly pretending to be as afraid as ever. He little knows that the
door of the dark cabin has just closed on one more boy. Indeed it is
for_ HOOK _alone he looks, and he is a little surprised to see him_.)
STARKEY (_hoarsely_). It is gone, Captain! There is not a sound.
(_The tenement that is_ HOOK _heaves tumultuously and he is himself
again_.)
HOOK (_now convinced that some fair spirit watches over him_). Then
here is to Johnny Plank--
Avast, belay, the English brig
We took and quickly sank,
And for a warning to the crew
We made them walk the plank!
(_As he sings he capers detestably along an imaginary plank and his
copy-cats do likewise, joining in the chorus._)
Yo ho, yo ho, the frisky cat,
You walks along it so,
Till it goes down and you goes down
To tooral looral lo!
(_The brave children try to stem this monstrous torrent by breaking
into the National Anthem._)
STARKEY (_paling_). I don’t like it, messmates!
HOOK. Stow that, Starkey. Do you boys want a touch of the cat before
you walk the plank? (_He is more pitiless than ever now that he
believes he has a charmed life._) Fetch the cat, Jukes; it is in the
cabin.
JUKES. Ay, ay, sir. (_It is one of his commonest remarks, and is only
recorded now because he never makes another. The stage direction_
‘_Exit_ JUKES’ _has in this case a special significance. But only the
children know that some one is awaiting this unfortunate in the cabin,
and_ HOOK _tramples them down as he resumes his ditty_:)
Yo ho, yo ho, the scratching cat
Its tails are nine you know,
And when they’re writ upon your back,
You’re fit to----
(_The last words will ever remain a matter of conjecture, for from
the dark cabin comes a curdling screech which wails through the ship
and dies away. It is followed by a sound, almost more eerie in the
circumstances, that can only be likened to the crowing of a cock._)
HOOK. What was that?
SLIGHTLY (_solemnly_). Two!
(CECCO _swings into the cabin, and in a moment returns, livid_.)
HOOK (_with an effort_). What is the matter with Bill Jukes, you dog?
CECCO. The matter with him is he is dead--stabbed.
PIRATES. Bill Jukes dead!
CECCO. The cabin is as black as a pit, but there is something terrible
in there: the thing you heard a-crowing.
HOOK (_slowly_). Cecco, go back and fetch me out that doodle-doo.
CECCO (_unstrung_). No, Captain, no. (_He supplicates on his knees, but
his master advances on him implacably._)
HOOK (_in his most syrupy voice_). Did you say you would go, Cecco?
(CECCO _goes. All listen. There is one screech, one crow._)
SLIGHTLY (_as if he were a bell tolling_). Three!
HOOK. ’Sdeath and oddsfish, who is to bring me out that doodle-doo?
(_No one steps forward._)
STARKEY (_injudiciously_). Wait till Cecco comes out.
(_The black looks of some others encourage him._)
HOOK. I think I heard you volunteer, Starkey.
STARKEY (_emphatically_). No, by thunder!
HOOK (_in that syrupy voice which might be more engaging when
accompanied by his flute_). My hook thinks you did. I wonder if it
would not be advisable, Starkey, to humour the hook?
STARKEY. I’ll swing before I go in there.
HOOK (_gleaming_). Is it mutiny? Starkey is ringleader. Shake hands,
Starkey.
(STARKEY _recoils from the claw. It follows him till he leaps
overboard._)
Did any other gentleman say mutiny?
(_They indicate that they did not even know the late_ STARKEY.)
SLIGHTLY. Four!
HOOK. I will bring out that doodle-doo myself.
(_He raises a blunderbuss but casts it from him with a menacing
gesture which means that he has more faith in the claw. With a
lighted lantern in his hand he enters the cabin. Not a sound is to
be heard now on the ship, unless it be_ SLIGHTLY _wetting his lips to
say ‘Five.’_ HOOK _staggers out_.)
HOOK (_unsteadily_). Something blew out the light.
MULLINS (_with dark meaning_). Some--thing?
NOODLER. What of Cecco?
HOOK. He is as dead as Jukes.
(_They are superstitious like all sailors, and_ MULLINS _has planted
a dire conception in their minds_.)
COOKSON. They do say as the surest sign a ship’s accurst is when there
is one aboard more than can be accounted for.
NOODLER. I’ve heard he allus boards the pirate craft at last. (_With
dreadful significance_) Has he a tail, Captain?
MULLINS. They say that when he comes it is in the likeness of the
wickedest man aboard.
COOKSON (_clinching it_). Has he a hook, Captain?
(_Knives and pistols come to hand, and there is a general cry ‘The
ship is doomed!’ But it is not his dogs that can frighten_ JAS HOOK.
_Hearing something like a cheer from the boys he wheels round, and
his face brings them to their knees._)
HOOK. So you like it, do you! By Caius and Balbus, bullies, here is
a notion: open the cabin door and drive them in. Let them fight the
doodle-doo for their lives. If they kill him we are so much the better;
if he kills them we are none the worse.
(_This masterly stroke restores their confidence; and the boys,
affecting fear, are driven into the cabin. Desperadoes though the
pirates are, some of them have been boys themselves, and all turn
their backs to the cabin and listen, with arms outstretched to it as
if to ward off the horrors that are being enacted there._
_Relieved by_ PETER _of their manacles, and armed with such weapons
as they can lay their hands on, the boys steal out softly as
snowflakes, and under their captain’s hushed order find hiding-places
on the poop. He releases_ WENDY; _and now it would be easy for them
all to fly away, but it is to be_ HOOK _or him this time. He signs
to her to join the others, and with awful grimness folding her cloak
around him, the hood over his head, he takes her place by the mast,
and crows._)
MULLINS. The doodle-doo has killed them all!
SEVERAL. The ship’s bewitched.
(_They are snapping at_ HOOK _again_.)
HOOK. I’ve thought it out, lads; there is a Jonah aboard.
SEVERAL (_advancing upon him_). Ay, a man with a hook.
(_If he were to withdraw one step their knives would be in him, but
he does not flinch._)
HOOK (_temporising_). No, lads, no, it is the girl. Never was luck on a
pirate ship wi’ a woman aboard. We’ll right the ship when she has gone.
MULLINS (_lowering his cutlass_). It’s worth trying.
HOOK. Throw the girl overboard.
MULLINS (_jeering_). There is none can save you now, missy.
PETER. There is one.
MULLINS. Who is that?
PETER (_casting off the cloak_). Peter Pan, the avenger!
(_He continues standing there to let the effect sink in._)
HOOK (_throwing out a suggestion_). Cleave him to the brisket.
(_But he has a sinking feeling that this boy has no brisket._)
NOODLER. The ship’s accurst!
PETER. Down, boys, and at them!
(_The boys leap from their concealment and the clash of arms resounds
through the vessel. Man to man the pirates are the stronger, but they
are unnerved by the suddenness of the onslaught and they scatter,
thus enabling their opponents to hunt in couples and choose their
quarry. Some are hurled into the lagoon; others are dragged from dark
recesses. There is no boy whose weapon is not reeking save_ SLIGHTLY,
_who runs about with a lantern, counting, ever counting_.)
WENDY (_meeting_ MICHAEL _in a moment’s lull_). Oh, Michael, stay with
me, protect me!
MICHAEL (_reeling_). Wendy, I’ve killed a pirate!
WENDY. It’s awful, awful.
MICHAEL. No, it isn’t, I like it, I like it.
(_He casts himself into the group of boys who are encircling_ HOOK.
_Again and again they close upon him and again and again he hews a
clear space._)
HOOK. Back, back, you mice. It’s Hook; do you like him? (_He lifts up_
MICHAEL _with his claw and uses him as a buckler. A terrible voice
breaks in._)
PETER. Put up your swords, boys. This man is mine.
(HOOK _shakes_ MICHAEL _off his claw as if he were a drop of water,
and these two antagonists face each other for their final bout. They
measure swords at arms’ length, make a sweeping motion with them, and
bringing the points to the deck rest their hands upon the hilts._)
HOOK (_with curling lip_). So, Pan, this is all your doing!
PETER. Ay, Jas Hook, it is all my doing.
HOOK. Proud and insolent youth, prepare to meet thy doom.
PETER. Dark and sinister man, have at thee.
(_Some say that he had to ask_ TOOTLES _whether the word was sinister
or canister_.
HOOK _or_ PETER _this time! They fall to without another word._ PETER
_is a rare swordsman, and parries with dazzling rapidity, sometimes
before the other can make his stroke_. HOOK, _if not quite so nimble
in wrist play, has the advantage of a yard or two in reach, but
though they close he cannot give the quietus with his claw, which
seems to find nothing to tear at. He does not, especially in the most
heated moments, quite see_ PETER, _who to his eyes, now blurred or
opened clearly for the first time, is less like a boy than a mote of
dust dancing in the sun. By some impalpable stroke_ HOOK’S _sword is
whipped from his grasp, and when he stoops to raise it a little foot
is on its blade. There is no deep gash on_ HOOK, _but he is suffering
torment as from innumerable jags_.)
BOYS (_exulting_). Now, Peter, now!
(PETER _raises the sword by its blade, and with an inclination of
the head that is perhaps slightly overdone, presents the hilt to his
enemy_.)
HOOK. ’Tis some fiend fighting me! Pan, who and what art thou?
(_The children listen eagerly for the answer, none quite so eagerly
as_ WENDY.)
PETER (_at a venture_). I’m youth, I’m joy, I’m a little bird that has
broken out of the egg.
HOOK. To ’t again!
(_He has now a damp feeling that this boy is the weapon which is to
strike him from the lists of man; but the grandeur of his mind still
holds and, true to the traditions of his flag, he fights on like
a human flail._ PETER _flutters round and through and over these
gyrations as if the wind of them blew him out of the danger zone, and
again and again he darts in and jags_.)
HOOK (_stung to madness_). I’ll fire the powder magazine. (_He
disappears they know not where._)
CHILDREN. Peter, save us!
(PETER, _alas, goes the wrong way and_ HOOK _returns_.)
HOOK (_sitting on the hold with gloomy satisfaction_). In two minutes
the ship will be blown to pieces.
(_They cast themselves before him in entreaty._)
CHILDREN. Mercy, mercy!
HOOK. Back, you pewling spawn. I’ll show you now the road to dusty
death. A holocaust of children, there is something grand in the idea!
(PETER _appears with the smoking bomb in his hand and tosses it
overboard_. HOOK _has not really had much hope, and he rushes at his
other persecutors with his head down like some exasperated bull in
the ring; but with bantering cries they easily elude him by flying
among the rigging_.
_Where is_ PETER? _The incredible boy has apparently forgotten the
recent doings, and is sitting on a barrel playing upon his pipes.
This may surprise others but does not surprise_ HOOK. _Lifting a
blunderbuss he strikes forlornly not at the boy but at the barrel,
which is hurled across the deck._ PETER _remains sitting in the air
still playing upon his pipes. At this sight the great heart of_
HOOK _breaks. That not wholly unheroic figure climbs the bulwarks
murmuring_ ‘Floreat Etona,’ _and prostrates himself into the water,
where the crocodile is waiting for him open-mouthed_. HOOK _knows the
purpose of this yawning cavity, but after what he has gone through he
enters it like one greeting a friend_.
_The curtain rises to show_ PETER _a very Napoleon on his ship. It
must not rise again lest we see him on the poop in_ HOOK’S _hat and
cigars, and with a small iron claw_.)