A Neverland Tale - HOOKED (eng)

Chapter 4.1 - Filou

Swaying like a drunken sailor, the little dinghy carried them faithfully over the waves that hissed and rumbled against the nutshell. Foam formed where they passed like ghosts and the dark mass parted. Meanwhile, the men struggled with powerful oar strokes against the waves pushing towards the surf. Getting ashore was always easy, but escaping Neverland was difficult - in more ways than one. Now, wisps of fog billowed around the paddles, flowing ghostly away across the sea, and the roar of the sea filled the soundscape with the groaning sounds of the pirates with more nervousness with each stroke of the oars. Something was in the air, intangible and yet all the muscles of the usually tough sea dogs were tense. Their eyes kept gliding restlessly around. Filou was half kneeling in the boat, the woman he had pushed down into the damp water in the belly of the rowboat beside him. The two rowers sat on the narrow wooden bench and gave all their strength to the fight against the waves. To stand would hardly be allowed by anyone who was not full of a death wish or foolish.

"Was there something there just now?" it murmured behind him and Filou immediately narrowed his eyes.

"WHERE?" hissed another, audible agitation in his voice.

"Be quiet." The mate returned in a harsh tone, raising his hand to reinforce the order. With narrowed eyes, his gaze furrowed into the fog flew over the water.... and saw here and there in the mist strange shadows without form. As if something from the nightmares flowed directly into this mist, but did not manage to take shape.

"Be alert." he then murmured and everyone understood. The fog was thicker than usual today, the swathes wafting treacherously over the waves. They all clung to the skeleton of the rowing boat somewhere as best they could, looking for somewhere to hold on to for safety. As soon as something bumped into them or a creature grabbed at them, they had to prevent the sirens from dragging them out of the safety of the boat. Once in the water, one would be as good as dead.
With a grim face, Filou gripped his cutlass and also the young woman's arm tighter. For her own protection, for he and these men were currently all that stood between her and the fangs of the monsters of these waters.

For some time, nothing could be heard but the deceptive sound of the waves and the splashing of the paddles... until finally the lights of the Jolly Roger and the mighty figure of the magnificent three-master peeled out of the fog. Some ships liked to glide across the sea with the waves, serving it and bowing to its whims. The Jolly Roger did not. She cut through the waves like a knife, seeming to be master of the sea instead of subject to it. Sometimes it seemed as if the Neverland Sea, capricious as it was, bowed to the captain's imperious gaze. Perhaps, as was told in so many stories by the locals, he had indeed made a pact with some devil, demon, or other entity. Filou didn't know, but there was no doubt that Hook could have done it. If he was honest, he didn't want to know.

The fact was: for them, the pirates who belonged to Hook's crew, the Jolly Roger was not just a flagship. It was home and meant safety on an island where there might not be many safe places left. Where once there was a colorful isle of joy and dreams in the seas, now the shadows found their way everywhere. When the dinghy bumped into the Jolly Roger and they moored it, Filou already knew something was wrong. The noise here was louder. Waves break against the ship, making the dinghy bump against it. The rattling of the wooden ladder hit the damp wood in time with the swaying ship. The roaring spray and the prevailing hustle and bustle on the ship here, alongside the wind at sea, filled his ears with roaring. Yet it seemed to him that restlessness tugged at his clothes like an impatient child.

"Come." He instructed the woman impatiently as a result, pulling her close to the ship and then giving orders upwards with a few hand signals to the men peering over the edge of the railing. From the looks of her, she probably wouldn't be able to climb the rickety ladder. Filou screwed up his face, then slid his weapon back into its scabbard and reached for the slender figure."Hold on to me."It took strength, yet he heaved her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. While she clung to him, he held her by the legs and then grabbed the sturdy hemp rope with his free hand to climb the rungs. When he finally reached the railing, strong hands were already grasping the female to take the unexpected prey from him, so that he could finally climb over the last obstacle.