Chapter 17: Chapter 17: Back From the Dead

Back from the Dead:

(1911 A.D., the Capital City of Blackfrost Port, The People’s Republic of the Neverlands, the Neverlands, the Realm of Ishrakie)

Mead spills over the edge of wooden mugs. Sultry wenches giggle on the laps of drunken men. Roasted meat, glazed exotic fruits, and grilled vegetables lay in heaps on long platters. Two fiddlers play merry jingles in the corner. One man balances a full cup of ale on his forehead as another man grabs the lip of the cup with his teeth and chugs it empty without using his hands. There is a great cheer from their comrades, which grows ever louder when their Captain Adolphus Fritz joins in.

“A toast gents!” declares Old Pavy, Captain Fritz’s first mate, as he raises his glass.

“I’ll admit, I was a bit worried after the council meeting when we woke up and found our ship had been nicked. But our top-notch captain had us back on the waves doin’ what we do best before we got bored of the land and whores,” continues Old Pavy.

Fists pound on tables in agreement. “Hahaha!... Damn right!... Not before they got bored of you!” chimes in a random voice from the peanut gallery.

Pavy closes one eye, keeping the open one on the jokester, pointing a playful finger at him.

“Raise your glasses, you scurvy rats, to the new Pirate Lord of the Neverlands, our very own Captain Adolphus Fritz!”

“Yeeeaaaahh!” cheers the whole drunken lot. Twenty cups go up towards the sky in celebration. They all come down empty. A barmaid arrives with two full pitchers.

She moves around the table refilling. When she gets to Captain Fritz, a lace-covered hand stops her from pouring. Mistress Thorn takes the pitcher from her.

“Allow me to serve the captain. Run along and get another pitcher ready,” insists Mistress Thorn.

Dark curls spill over her shoulder when she leans to fill the cup. The men at the table subconsciously lower their voices. Captain Fritz keeps one hand on his cup to steady it but leans his shoulders back to look more directly at the Mistress.

“Wasn’t sure if you were ever coming down from your tower. You are quite striking tonight, Miss Catherine.”

“Thank you, Adolphus. I’ve heard you bought yourself a new ship. Congratulations.”

“Quite a lucky chance to get it so quickly. The shipbuilder had made it for the militia of the Western Isles, but when I told him of my sorry circumstances, he took pity and sold it to me instead.”

“And by sorry circumstance, I presume you mean the tip of your sword?” counters Mistress Thorn.

Captain Fritz smiles.

“I can’t believe you would think me so brutish,” replies Captain Fritz with mock-indignation.

“All men are brutes,” rebuts Mistress Thorn, flashing a disgusted sneer that she quickly hides away, mindful of her current situation.

“Even your precious, James…” muses Captain Fritz in an effort to rub salt in her emotional wound.

“He’s dead!” she blurts out louder than she means to, causing some of the girls to jump at her outburst. Many of the men put down their glasses to listen.

Captain Fritz waves a hand at them to continue their own business. He takes Mistress Thorn’s hand gently.

“My apologies. That was insensitive of me. Please allow me to make up for my… brutish… remarks by serving you dinner on my new ship,” continues Captain Fritz.

Mistress Thorn pulls her hand back and fiddles with the ring on her pinky finger in a manner that is uncharacteristically bashful.

The front door of the establishment flies open. A man pushes his way through the crowded brothel.

“I’m not sure, Adolphus. I…” replies Mistress Thorn, not paying attention to the man now making his way through the crowded whorehouse.

The man approaches Captain Fritz and bows.

“Captain,” says the man nervously.

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“What is it, Bradley? Can’t you see I’m speaking with Mistress Thorn?”

“My apologies, Captain, Miss Catherine, but we jus’ spied a ship comin inna tha bay. We’re preddy sure it’s the Stille Jäger,” explains Bradley.

“Preposterous! Show me the ship. You’ll spend a week in the bilge if you’re wasting my time,” Captain Fritz follows Bradley out to the port, followed by his fellow crewman from his table with Mistress Thorn in tow.

The sun slants down from the West. Thick-necked dock workers lift heavy boxes of tea and large rolls of silk onto wooden carts. Dead centre in the bay, the ship once called the Stille Jäger, now with glossy sails and a half-metal hull from its new upgrades turns to give the shore its broadside. Captain Fritz extends his spyglass and looks toward the helm.

“Dear lord!” His jaw drops, as does the spyglass, “It can’t be,” whispers Captain Fritz, horrified. A seed of dread suddenly takes root deep inside him.

“What is it, Captain?” asks Bradley, even more nervously now.

Before Fritz can answer, two bolts of lightning surge from The White Witch’s cannons, hitting stacks of spice crates, and a tethered goat, setting them ablaze. The dual-thunderclaps slam into the ears of the on-lookers, making their hearts stutter. They all watch with uneasy anticipation as the ship turns toward them again, continuing toward an open dock.

Bradley talks out of the side of his mouth, unable to take his eyes from the ship, “It’s da Jager elright, ba what ‘as ‘appened to her, Captain?”

The smell of roasted spices and goat meat fills the air. Captain Fritz’s hands and feet grew cold as his stomach twists. Mistress Thorn’s heart beats with a flushing mixture of fear and secret hope.

Nobody on the shore of the bay dares move even as the ship comes to a stop and Murphy slides the gangplank of the now docked White Witch into place. Captain Hook descends in splendour and glory down onto the dock, first followed by Smee and then Murphy. Noodler stands at the bow of the ship ready and waiting with a Fire-Cannon aimed toward the assembled group of rival pirates on the shore. Blickstein holds his potion high in the Crow’s Nest of the White Witch, his sniper-rifle at the ready. Hook strides towards Captain Fritz’s group looking more chipper than ever, whistling a joyous tune. He is garbed in black silk pants and a deep blue long coat. The clothes are sleek and well-fitting but have none of the frills or shiny buttons the current fashion provides.

Every pirate and citizen on the shore stands transfixed, watching his approach in bewildered disbelief. A soft whimper of fear briefly escapes Captain Fritz’s mouth. Captain Hook makes his way over to Captain Fritz and Mistress Thorn as they find themselves unable to look away from the black tendrils of carapace covering his lower right arm and good hand.

Hook comes to a stop, staring at Captain Fritz and Mistress Thorn from a few paces away. He turns, scanning the surrounding crowd with his signature glacial-blue gaze, smiling warmly.

“Hello, old friends! I’ve always wondered what the world would be like without Captain James Hook.” He takes a few more steps towards Captain Fritz. Hook winks coolly at his beloved Mistress Thorn, causing her heart to spring into euphoric glee. Hook plants himself firmly face to face with Captain Fritz. Bradley quivers in terror just off to the right of Fritz. Hook leans in close to Bradley.

“How did you find it? Was the world a bleak and dreary place without me?” whispers Hook, bitter anger in his voice.

Bradley whimpers.

“Perhaps the world was brighter? More pleasant?” shouts Hook, turning for a moment to address the larger crowd. He turns his attention to Captain Fritz with a smug grin.

“I am sure it must have been brighter for you most of all. No longer living in my shadow, hmm?” Hook’s eyes lock with Fritz.

The sheer force of Hook’s dominance causes Fritz’s eyes to waver in shame, revealing the true weak patheticness that lies within him.

“What of the Pan? Has he decided to torment you now that I was out of the picture?” presses Hook, his breath hot on Captain Fritz’s face.

Captain Fritz swallows.

“Haven’t seen him,” answers Fritz, his trembling becoming ever more obvious.

“What? Do you mean to say that Pan has been absent this whole time? He hasn’t brought his childish malevolence to bear on any other sea dog?” continues Hook, his soft voice becoming ever more menacing by the moment.

“Word is he celebrates night and day in his little clubhouse. Or with the squaws in their camp,” answers Fritz, barely managing to keep some measure of composure.

Captain Hook looks down and smiles.

“No, he wouldn’t, would he?” mutters Hook to himself. Hook lifts his good hand in challenge as he turns to address the surrounding crowd of onlookers.

“Who here can find the Pan?” shouts Hook.

A young girl who does the laundry for the brothel steps up to the side of Mistress Thorn.

“I know where he is. Sometimes the Lost Boys let me join their games if they need a princess to save,” says the young girl.

“Very well, little girl, what’s your name?” says Hook, turning and kneeling to face the young girl.

“Abigail,” answers the young girl, softly.

Hook supportively puts his hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Such a sweet girl. Okay, Abigail, I want you to deliver a message for me. You find Pan and tell him this… tell him that Captain Hook is back and that soon all the Neverlands will be his. Tell him I will not stop until all that Pan loves is burned to the ground and his heart is roasted and placed before me on a silver platter,” Hook smiles at Abigail tenderly before standing back up and sending her on her way.

*****

Under Hook’s decisive leadership and with the aid of the Pale Tower, Hook and his followers are able to work faster and more efficiently than ever. The mass industrialization of the Pirate Ports and surrounding lands that Hook had originally thought would take six months instead only took three. With the new level of industrial capability, Hook orders Smee to oversee the complete refitting and upgrading of all pirate ships in the Neverlands along with the rearming and training of every pirate. Every day Hook grows more proud of everything he and his men have managed to accomplish, making him even more sure of his path going forward.