An Awfully Big Adventure

Chapter 1: An Unpleasant Arrival

Harry awoke slowly, unable to move, and coughed weakly.

"Oh, good, you're alive. Here." A tall, blurry figure kneeled over him and slowly poured a small trickle of water into his mouth. Harry tried his best not to choke.

"Thank you," Harry croaked. He had no idea where he was or what was happening, but he was too tired to figure it out, so he simply laid there.

"Come on," the voice spoke again, "you've got to at least try to hang in there. I'm not sure what happened before your boat wrecked, but it looks as if you hadn't eaten for quite a while beforehand. And your skin is yellow, probably really need water as well."

Harry started to remember. His ship! She was wrecked? He hoped she would be fixable...then he remembered the weeks before. The feeling of quickly losing hope after sailing for so long, certain he was lost. The rest of the small crew had abandoned him in the middle of the night, making off with the dinghy, but he doubted they'd been much better off than him. Then he'd run out of food. The ship scared away any sort of ocean life and there was never any land in sight. He had spent much of his time just bringing up buckets of water to boil to stay alive after he'd finished the rest of the brandy.

"She's a ship," he corrected, "not a boat. And who are you?"

The man laughed.

"That little thing? Well if you say so. I am called...Robert. How did you get out here? I had always thought me and my crew were the only ones on these waters?"

"I'm honestly not sure. I had been heading for South America and I'm sure I got very lost. It's been months and months and I haven't seen land since I left. My crew abandoned me, and I haven't the faintest clue where I am."

"South America? You're...so you're from...hmm," the man shifted to look over Harry more carefully.

"You are in a place called Neverland," he finally continued.

"Neverland? I've never heard of that? What ocean are we in? What continent?"

Robert sighed. "Neverland. It's just Neverland, all of it I'm afraid."

"But— but, what is it?"

"I'm afraid you have likely taken the entrance through the Atlantic area? There were storms, you said? Any whirl-pooling? Anything strange with your compass? Perhaps around a place called 'Bermuda'?"

Harry gasped.

"No! I thought when it calmed that I'd managed to make it out of the Triangle! You mean I'm in a completely different place?"

Robert gave a wry smile.

"Yes, although I can't remember anymore how I got here, I heard that the captain before my predecessor arrived in much the same way." He paused, looking over Harry gravely. "That brings me to another point...I am getting old and tired. I'm afraid I'll need to ask you a favour in return for saving your life."

"Okay, I suppose that's only fair," Harry responded hesitantly.

"Let's get you up first. This is a conversation that should take place in my office."

He helped Harry up gently and supported him until he sat down heavily in a velvet chair in Robert's office.

"I will get you some more water and a bit of gruel. I doubt your stomach can handle much more right now."

Harry weakly nodded and looked around the room. It wasn't anything spectacular. It was cramped and dark, only lit by two small, rusted oil lamps. The dark wood walls seemed to be closing in on him, as did the assorted knick-knacks that further crowded the space. Behind the desk was a large oil painting. At first he assumed it was of Robert, but the nose was notably different, and there was a large mole on the painted chin. The face was also longer and more dour looking, but the painting had the same long, curly black hair and bright, ruffled red coat and plumed hat. The painting, Harry noticed, also seemed to have a wickedly gleaming hook in place of its left hand.