A Neverland Tale - HOOKED (eng)

Chapter 1.2 - Capt. J. Hook

Hook's POV

Captain James Hook closed his eyes to simply listen for a moment. The sounds of the sea had been clearing his mind ever since he first heard them. Gurgling waves rolled in shallowly on the white powder beaches of Cannibal Cove, nestling over the lukewarm sand and drenching it with salt water. The cool water left darker stains on the crushed bones, crushed further and further by tides until nothing remained of the dead but shimmering white sand. Boot prints formed deeper hollows here and there on the beach, but they were hardly noticeable among the scattered shells, smaller rocks, and clumps of seaweed and seagrass that the sea had washed up. Not far from the beach, palm trees waved their green fronds above longer and shorter trunks, casting jagged shadows on the shore and partly the surf. They provided the only shade in the Cove on hot days, if you didn't want to venture too far into the woods.... and that's what Hook would have advised anyone who asked.
For where dry palm fronds slowly became scarcer, merged into smaller bushes, and mossy soil, and were finally replaced entirely by mighty tree trunks... there prowled figures even worse than many a pirate pack. Behind the sparse huts around the small landing place built by his people in the Cove, the forest became denser and denser until finally the course of the Mirror Lake broke through and fed the nearby lake with fresh water.

The Jolly Roger rocked a little further out, where the water still possessed the clear hue of azure, and only about fifty meters below Hook's feet shimmering schools of fish moved over many-facetted reefs. On particularly clear days, if you leaned far enough over the railing and stared strained through the water, you could see some colors shining through the water even from here. Far from sight, broken parts of the ship between the corals served as dwellings for all kinds of sea creatures. Overgrown wooden beams, parts of wrecks that had long since collapsed and been completely disfigured, which for decades had held neither treasures nor other useful things. The smell of salt drifted with the balmy sea breeze through the bay and into the forest, where it became increasingly lost in the deep green.

Above Hook's head, a few screaming gulls circled, their grey-whitewashed plumage looking rather reddish in the setting evening sun. The captain started moving slowly and strolled from the bow of the ship along the railing towards the stern. His hand glided over the polished wood, worn by countless battles... almost lovingly as if he could pay his respects to the Jolly Roger like a long-time companion. She was a magnificent galleon. With her three proud masts and her spotless sails, she seemed almost too innocent to the captain for the suffering that the crew on board, every single cannon, and the iron-reinforced bow could cause. The masses of fabric in the rigging had just been caught up, countless ropes, each with a different name, wound around faded canvas and patches of the same color.

At the thought of all the victorious battles, his crew had been able to record with their captain, a smile almost slipped across the tall man's lips. Only almost, because it would have taken more than a simple victory to elicit a smile from Captain James Hook. Practiced fingers traced the notches in the Jolly Roger's wood in a few places, he examined a few knots in passing and nodded to Smee, who was just trudging out of the galley. Heaven knew what or who he was looking for again.

James crossed the ship until he climbed the first flight of stairs to his cabin, then the second to the wheel. Here the wooden railing was particularly meticulously polished, the worn handrail still showed a carving or two, and the wooden struts of the railing were decorated with worn frescoes. Dark wood, worked over by years of sun, salt water, and storms, accompanied one up to the top, where the imposing steering wheel was made of the same material. A gilded metal strip was embedded here and reflected the sun in light bronze. On the gleaming brass, remarkably accurate letters proclaimed the words Hostis rubris Sanguis, which James had read so many times before that he no longer remembered the first time. The red blood of the enemy with which, according to the stories, their flag, fluttering dark (admittedly, somewhat faded) red at the very top of the tallest mast above the crow's nest, had been dyed. Threat and warning to any ship that dared enter the Cove and also the rest of Hook's pirate sea grounds.