At Hook's direction, his men dipped the oars slowly into the water, as gently as possible and in smooth motions to avoid any unnecessarily loud noises. It was getting late, night had taken hold of Neverland and spread its train of darkness and stars over the island. Moonlight sometimes peeked out from behind the grayish banks of clouds and stroked the white sands of Cannibal Cove, so that the sand now shimmered a ghostly white rather than reddish. It looked as if someone had painted liquid mother-of-pearl on the edge of the shore, but as soon as the moon was obscured again, every shadow took on the same gray or black hue. With the fog, everything blurred into an opaque mixture, impossible to make out what was within a few feet of the boat.

James kept his eyes open, scanning their surroundings for the usual conspicuous features. The sheen of wet hair, scaly bodies showing in the mist, a pair of glowing eyes perhaps? Or yet the abruptly sweet chirp of an irresistible voice? Ah - out here everything could be deadly, every wrong move drew attention to them and it was enough the weight of the dinghies in the water that every animal within several hundred meters sensed their presence.

Hook did not sit down in the boat like the other men, but propped his foot on the front peak. From there he had a reasonably good view of the surroundings and could at least partially recognize an attack early. Every now and then he thought he heard the soft laughter of a child somewhere in the distance, searching the direction for small flying or perhaps even swimming figures. Who knew if the newcomers were stupid enough to swim to the ship at this hour (or at all)? But whenever he turned his gaze in the appropriate direction, the sound was gone again. Here and there the fog thinned, eaten away by moonlight like an evil spirit - cleansed by the brilliant white. Where mermaids like angels of death lolled their fins on thin cliffs, spiked with shining scales like liquid silver and covered with tiny shades of blue and silvery green. They were beautiful. Many men always tried to recall the unnatural scaled tail of these creatures, to distract themselves with all their might from the stunning faces. Even though James encouraged them, kept reminding them that mermaids were not women - but still fish, a creature of the wet graves of so many sailors - he could not deny them a certain fascination. The mermaids were smart, fierce, and of such incredible beauty that probably no man who looked into their big eyes would not fall for them.

And the captain had his respect for them - not least because they showed solidarity with him and the ship. An unspoken agreement that no one knew how it had come about. Perhaps both sides had simply noticed at some point that they were useful to each other without intending it. Because with every man who drowned in the dark dungeons of Skull Rock, a huge rock formation that actually resembled a human skull, served as food for the crocodiles. Thus, these beasts kept away from the dazzling gardens of mermaids that were said to exist many miles beneath the surface of the water. James had never glimpsed them, as probably no one on the island had, but sometimes on particularly calm, sunny days, a colorful sparkle would waft around the bloody reef off the mermaid lagoon. Almost as if the sun could reach into the water with its long fingers and bring up the shimmer of the thousands and thousands of multicolored corals. No fisherman dared to enter these waters anymore; at most, Red Dagger ships carrying goods from the maritime city to Blackbeard's mines sailed past the entrance to the lagoon. But even they were always careful to stay out of reach of these shining reefs (which did not bear their name for anything).

Yes, it was useful to be in a somewhat neutral relationship with the mermaids, because above all they were still hungry, bloodthirsty beasts. If they showed their gratitude for the protection of their gardens, there were still enough sailors who fell for their enchanting countenance. Then even Captain Hook could not save them. A pretty pair of eyes, alluring glances through the mist, the promise of every carnal sin in existence... all desires could come true. It was that bewitching look that drove them mad, even weeks after meeting a mermaid, the hapless lovers rushed off the boat. All for a kiss, a touch... the illusion that surrounded these women like an impenetrable veil. Ha - sometimes you were eaten before you even reached the surface of the water because a crocodile did not miss the flying body above him. And with very bad luck the beasts snapped out of the water, whoever could bite first would eventually eat the most.

"You don't even know what trust or friendship means." (Luke)

The muttered reproach brought the captain back to reality and he turned his head slightly to look at his prisoner. Almost defiantly, Luke squatted on the bench between the pirates, as out of place as a goose among foxes. Hrm... and it was James' job, for now, to keep the foxes from their supper.

Trust and friendship.

In front of his men, Hook hardly showed any reaction to the words, they were now giving the fellow looks as if they would have liked to cut him right open. Only that would have been even stupider than leaving him alive. The crocodiles in particular had a very fine sense for every change in the water - especially when blood mixed with the salt and became a quite digestible menu for them. No, no pirate would have dared touch the lost one without Hook's permission, much as they might have felt like it. They wanted revenge for the attack, the chaos on board, and the extra work they would have to do to get the Jolly Roger back in shape. But they didn't override their captain's orders to do it - their own lives weren't worth their grudges. That being said, James wouldn't have let anyone else gut this fellow anyway...he was the one who had to make a mark for stealing his coat. 

A good leader wasn't afraid to do the same work as his men, and even though Hook hadn't been scrubbing decks or knotting ropes properly for a very long time - he still knew his way around dirty work. It was not always wise to send the bloodhounds of his crew ahead. Effective...but not wise. If he withdrew too often, leaving others to do the work, who would want to follow someone like that? The figure of a captain lived not only on authority, decision-making power, and the sophistication of his plans. It was also important that his crew had someone at their head whom they could accept and admire. As cruel as James was with his people, mercilessly keelhauling thieves and traitors or drowning them in Skull Rock... he was fair in his rewards. They all got a fair share of the spoils of long sea voyages, he sometimes praised them for honest good work and if he saw potential in someone... he encouraged it. The right kind of person, the one who had always carried the pirate in his heart, he gave the feeling... to be free at last. Arriving among his kind, perhaps, or the common goal of defying every rule imposed by others? Whatever it was, James gave the men something that united them all.

Lurking, he tightened his grip on the saber until the dinghy finally struck the flank of the Jolly Roger with a thud. As soon as the few dinghies were noticed, the movement came to the men at the rail. Immediately, the ladder was lowered and another was already cranking the pulley to carry potentially injured people. Roughly, Hook reached out to Luke and pulled him to his feet. With ease, James lifted the lad toward the ladder so he could pull himself up it. Luke was a good head shorter than the pirate, had the lanky build of a teenager, and was really lanky for a lad his age. So it wasn't hard for James to slide his arms under his shoulders and lift him so he could grab the first rungs of the ladder. As he did so, his eyes scowled at the red brocade fabric that still wrinkled around the slender stature.

With a quiet snort, Hook climbed up the stairs after the prisoner and pulled himself up the last bit at the railing. On deck, much of the chaos had already been cleared away or at least relocated. Ship's boys were hastily scrubbing the planks, cleaning the wood of bloodstains before they began to soak in, and behind them, Skylights was dumping a bucket of the pitch and tar mixture they used to grease and insulate over the planks. Others were piling up barrels, replacing broken ropes, and hauling in the mainsail to patch the holes. Hook's lower jaw tightened as he ground his teeth, obsessing over the mess.

At least they were making an effort to clean up the rest of the attack. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of showing Luke the injured from this fun dare and leading him to the sick room below deck. Ha, let the lad see what Peter's little adventures could do to his people. Cripples, bound for life to their peg leg or... a hook. Well, Hook didn't see himself limited at all. In combat, the extra weapon gave him unimagined options - you could practically never disarm him completely. But that was due to his unwavering stubbornness and the fact that James would never have given up. Others had a much harder time dealing with the loss of a body part. Presumably, though, an irresponsible kid wouldn't have cared what happened to pirates anyway, just as Hook shouldn't have cared that Luke's filthy throat was slit. With a grim face, Hook quoted the second mate to him.

"Were there any dead?" he asked sternly, looking around the deck for the familiar white shrouds in which a deceased person would be wrapped and eventually thrown off the ship. It wasn't much, but at least they could hold some kind of burial that way.

"Aye, sir. Casualties, too." the mate confirmed, taking his stance. James nodded with his brows drawn together, about to continue when he noticed that the mate was no longer looking at him. His gaze slid down Hook, to... the disheveled bundle on deck. The brown eyes first widened, then changed from surprise to hostility, and finally, a familiar hatred germinated in the weather-beaten face. Still, the second mate dared not address or even touch the prodigal before Hook. James still held his coat to the lad's shoulder, but the grip made it clear that no one was to interfere in this matter unless asked.

"Fine, I'll have this mess cleaned up by sunrise or I'll have everyone keelhauling for it one by one," James threatened, piercing the man with a look of steel and ice. Everyone on deck knew this was not an empty threat. 

"Where the heck is the first mate?" the captain continued to blather, looking around again. That way he didn't notice the brief twitch on the second mate's face... better that way. It was no secret that James trusted the former Indian more than most of the rest of the crew. Filou carried out orders as James directed, thoroughly and efficiently. As mentioned - Hook recognized potential and knew how to nurture it.

"He made a find on the beach with his squad," the second mate reported somewhat hesitantly, printing around his answer as if there was more to know.

"Spit it out already!" ordered James impatiently, suppressing an annoyed sigh. Why couldn't he just formulate clear sentences and stop wasting his captain's time afterward?

"He'll bring it to you, Captain." Hook looked at the second mate, toying with the idea of personally throwing him off the ship, but for that, he would have had to let go of Luke, and except for himself, he didn't trust anyone to catch the nimble beast a second time.

So he nodded curtly, satisfied for the moment with an answer that couldn't have been vaguer, and dismissed the mate. At the moment, moreover, they had far bigger problems than simple flotsam and jetsam. James' hand on Luke's shoulder gripped tighter and he turned with him toward the captain's cabin.

Without waiting for consent, he pulled the prisoner toward the stairs and finally up the first few steps. It would be an interesting evening - Hook was sure of that.