 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Meredith Hughes. Peter Pan. By J. M. Barry. Chapter 1. Peter breaks through. All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day, when she was two years old, she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, Oh, why can't you remain like this forever? This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end. Of course they lived at fourteen, and until Wendy came, her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind, and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling east. However many you discover, there is always one more, and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was perfectly conspicuous in the right hand corner. The way Mr. Darling won her was this. The many gentlemen who had been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously that they loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to her, except Mr. Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so he got her. He got all of her, except the innermost box and the kiss. He never knew about the box, and in time he gave up trying for the kiss. Wendy thought Napoleon could have got it, but I can picture him trying, and then going off in a passion slamming the door. Mr. Darling used to boast to Wendy that her mother not only loved him, but respected him. He was one of those deep ones who know about stocks and shares. Of course, no one really knows, but he quite seemed to know, and he often said stocks were up and shares were down, in a way that would have made any woman respect him. Mrs. Darling was married and white, and at first she kept the books perfectly, almost gleefully, as if it were a game, not so much as a Brussels sprout was missing, but by and by whole cauliflower's dropped out, and instead of them there were pictures of babies without faces. She drew them when she should have been totting up. They were Mrs. Darling's guesses. Wendy came first, then John, then Michael. For a week or two after Wendy came, it was doubtful whether they would be able to keep her, as she was another mouth to feed. Mr. Darling was frightfully proud of her, but he was very honourable, and he sat on the edge of Mrs. Darling's bed, holding her hand in calculating expenses, while she looked at him imploringly. She wanted to risk it, come what might, but that was not his way. His way was with a pencil and a piece of paper, and if she confused him with suggestions he had to begin at the beginning again. Now, don't interrupt, he would beg of her. I have one pound seventeen here, and two and six at the office. I can cut off my coffee at the office, say ten shillings, making two nine and six. With your eighteen and three makes three nine seven. With five not not in my checkbook makes eight nine seven. Who is that moving? Eight nine seven, dot and carry seven. Don't speak my own. And the pound you lent to that man who came to the door. Quiet child, dot and carry child. There, you've done it. Did I say nine nine seven? Yes, I said nine nine seven. The question is, can we try it for a year on nine nine seven? Of course we can, George, she cried. But she was prejudiced in Wendy's favour, and he was really the grander character of the two. Remember mumps, he warned her almost threateningly, and off he went again. Mumps one pound, that is what I have put down, but I daresay it will be more like thirty shillings. Don't speak, measles one five, German measles half a guinea makes two fifteen six. Don't waggle your finger, whooping coughs say fifteen shillings, and so on it went, and it added up differently each time. But at last Wendy just got through, with mumps reduced to twelve six, and the two kinds of measles treated as one. There was the same excitement over John, and Michael had even a narrow or squeak, but both were kept. And soon you might have seen the three of them going in a row to Miss Folson's kindergarten school, accompanied by their nurse. Mrs. Darling loved to have everything just so, and Mr. Darling had a passion for being exactly like his neighbours, so of course they had a nurse. As they were poor, owing to the amount of milk the children drank, this nurse was a prim Newfoundland dog, called Nana, who had belonged to no one in particular until the darlings engaged her. She had always thought children important, however, and the darlings had become acquainted with her in Kensington Gardens, where she spent most of her spare time peeping into perambulators, and was much hated by careless nursemaids, whom she followed to their homes and complained of to their mistresses. She proved to be quite a treasure of a nurse. How thorough she was at bath time, and up at any moment of the night if one of her charges made the slightest cry. Of course, her kennel was in the nursery. She had a genius for knowing when a cough is a thing to have no patience with, and when it needs a stocking around your throat. She believed to her last day in old fashioned remedies like rhubarb leaf, and made sounds of contempt over all this newfangled talk about germs and so on. It was a lesson in propriety to see her escorting the children to school, walking sedately by their side when they were well behaved, and butting them back into line if they strayed. On John's soccer days, she never once forgot his sweater, and she usually carried an umbrella in her mouth in case of rain. There is a room in the basement of Miss Folsom's school where the nurses wait. They sat on forms, while Nana lay on the floor, but that was the only difference. They affected to ignore her as of an inferior social status to themselves, and she despised their light talk. She resented visits to the nursery from Mrs. Darling's friends, but if they did come, she first whipped off Michael's pinafore and put him into the one with blue braiding and smoothed out Wendy and made a dash at John's hair. No nursery could possibly have been conducted more correctly, and Mr. Darling knew it, yet he sometimes wondered uneasily whether the neighbors talked. He had his position in the city to consider. Nana also troubled him in another way. He had sometimes a feeling that she did not admire him. I know she admires you tremendously, George, Mrs. Darling would assure him, and then she would sign to the children to be specially nice to father. Lovely dances followed, in which the only other servant, Liza, was sometimes allowed to join. Such a midget she looked in her long-skirt and maidscap, though she had sworn when engaged that she would never see ten again. The gaiety of these romps, the gayest of all was Mrs. Darling, who would pirouette so wildly that all you could see of her was the kiss, and then if you had dashed at her you might have got it. There never was a simpler, happier family, until the coming of Peter Pan. Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up her children's minds. It is the nightly custom of every good mother, after her children are asleep, to rummage in their minds and put things straight for the next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake, but of course you can't, you would see your own mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind, and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on. I don't know whether you have ever seen a map of a person's mind. Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, and your own map can become intensely interesting. But catch them trying to draw a map of a child's mind, which is not only confused, but keeps going round all the time. There are zigzag lines on it, just like your temperature on a card, and these are probably roads in the island. For the Neverland is always more or less an island, with astonishing splashes of color here and there, and coral reefs, and rakish-looking craft in the offing, and savages, and lonely lairs, and gnomes who are mostly tailors, and caves through which a river runs, and princes with six elder brothers, and a hut fast going to decay, and one very small old lady with a hooked nose. It would be an easy map if that were all, but there is also first day at school, religion, fathers, the round pond, needlework, murders, hangings, verbs that take the date of, chocolate pudding day, getting into braces, say, ninety-nine three pence for pulling out your tooth yourself, and so on. And either these are part of the island, or they are another map showing through, and it is all rather confusing, especially as nothing will stand still. Of course, the Neverlands vary a good deal. Johns, for instance, had a lagoon with flamingos flying over it at which John was shooting, while Michael, who was very small, had a flamingo with lagoons flying over it. John lived in a boat turned upside down on the sands. Michael and a wigwam. Wendy and a house of leaves deftly sewn together. John had no friends. Michael had friends at night. Wendy had a pet wolf forsaken by its parents. But on the whole, the Neverlands have a family resemblance, and if they stood in a row, you could say of them that they have each other's nose and so forth. On these magic shores, children at play are forever beaching their coracles. We too have been there. We can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more. Of all delectable islands, the Neverland is the snuggest and most compact. Not large and sprawly, you know, with tedious distances between one adventure and another, but nicely crammed. When you play at it by day with the chairs and the tablecloth, it is not in the least alarming, but in the two minutes before you go to sleep, it becomes very nearly real. That is why there are nightlights. Occasionally, in her travels through her children's minds, Mrs. Darling found things she could not understand, and of these quite the most perplexing was the word Peter. She knew of no Peter, and yet he was here and there in John and Michael's minds, while Wendy's began to be scrawled all over with him. The name stood out in bolder letters than any of the other words, and as Mrs. Darling gazed, she felt that it had an oddly cocky appearance. Yes, he is rather cocky, Wendy admitted with regret. Her mother had been questioning her. But who is he, my pet? He is Peter Pan, you know, mother. At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back into her childhood, she just remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died, he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened. She had believed in him at the time, but now that she was married and full of sense, she quite doubted whether there was any such person. Besides, she said to Wendy, he would be grown up by this time. Oh no, he isn't grown up, Wendy assured her confidently, and he is just my size. She meant that he was her size in both mind and body. She didn't know how she knew it, she just knew it. Mrs. Darling consulted Mr. Darling, but he smiled poo-poo. Mark my words, he said, it is just some nonsense Nana has been putting into their heads, just the sort of idea a dog would have. Leave it alone and it will blow over. But it would not blow over, and soon the troublesome boy gave Mrs. Darling quite a shock. Children have the strangest adventures without being troubled by them. For instance, they may remember to mention, a week after the event happened, that when they were in the wood, they met their dead father and had a game with him. It was in this casual way that Wendy one morning made a disquieting revelation. Some leaves of a tree had been found on the nursery floor, which certainly were not there when the children went to bed, and Mrs. Darling was puzzling over them when Wendy said with a tolerant smile, I do believe it is that Peter again. Whatever do you mean, Wendy? It is so naughty of him not to wipe, Wendy said, sighing. She was a tidy child. She explained, in quite a matter of fact way, that she thought Peter sometimes came to the nursery in the night and sat on the foot of her bed and played on his pipes to her. Unfortunately she never woke, so she didn't know how she knew, she just knew. What nonsense you talk precious, no one can get into the house without knocking. I think he comes by the window, she said. My love, it is three floors up. Were not the leaves at the foot of the window, mother? It was quite true the leaves had been found very near the window. Mrs. Darling did not know what to think, for it all seemed so natural to Wendy that you could not dismiss it by saying that she had been dreaming. My child, the mother cried, why did you not tell me of this before? I forgot, said Wendy lightly, she was in a hurry to get her breakfast. Oh, surely she must have been dreaming. But on the other hand, there were the leaves. Mrs. Darling examined them carefully. They were skeleton leaves, but she was sure they did not come from any tree that grew in England. She crawled about the floor, peering at it with a candle for marks of a strange foot. She rattled the poker up the chimney and tapped the walls. She let a tape down from the window to the pavement, and it was a sheer drop of thirty feet, without so much as a spout to climb up by. Certainly Wendy had been dreaming. But Wendy had not been dreaming, as the very next night showed, the night on which the extraordinary adventures of these children may be said to have begun. On the night we speak of, all the children were once more in bed. It happened to be Nana's evening off, and Mrs. Darling had bathed them and sung to them, till one by one they had let go her hand, and slid away into the land of sleep. All were looking so safe and cozy that she smiled at her fears now, and sat down tranquilly by the fire to sow. It was something for Michael, who on his birthday was getting into shirts. The fire was warm, however, and the nursery dimly lit by three night lights, and presently the sowing lay on Mrs. Darling's lap. Then her head nodded, oh so gracefully. She was asleep. Look at the four of them, Wendy and Michael over there, John here, and Mrs. Darling by the fire. There should have been a fourth nightlight. While she slept she had a dream. She dreamt that the Neverland had come too near, and that a strange boy had broken through from it. He did not alarm her, for she thought she had seen him before in the faces of many women who have no children. Perhaps he is to be found in the faces of some mothers also. But in her dream he had rent the film that obscures the Neverland, and she saw Wendy and John and Michael peeping through the gap. The dream by itself would have been a trifle, but while she was dreaming the window of the nursery blew open, and a boy did drop on the floor. He was accompanied by a strange light, no bigger than your fist, which darted about the room like a living thing, and I think it must have been this light that wakened Mrs. Darling. She started up with a cry, and saw the boy, and somehow she knew at once that he was Peter Pan. If you or I, or Wendy had been there, we should have seen that he was very like Mrs. Darling's kiss. He was a lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves, and the juices that ooze out of trees. But the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth. When he saw she was a grown-up, he gnashed the little pearls at her. End of Chapter 1. Recorded by Meredith Hughes, Little Compton, Rhode Island, December 30, 2005 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Peter Eastman, July 29, 2006 Peter Pan by J. M. Berry Chapter 2. The Shadow Mrs. Darling screamed, and as if in answer to a bell, the door opened and Nana entered, returned from her evening out. She growled and sprang at the boy, who leapt lightly through the window. Again Mrs. Darling screamed, this time in distress for him, for she thought he was killed, and she ran down into the street to look for his little body. But it was not there. As she looked up and in the black night she could see nothing but what she thought was a shooting star. She returned to the nursery and found Nana with something in her mouth, which proved to be the boy's shadow. As he leapt at the window, Nana had closed it quickly, too late to catch him, but his shadow had not had time to get out. Slam went the window and snapped it off. You may be sure Mrs. Darling examined the shadow carefully, but it was quite the ordinary kind. Nana had no doubt of what was the best thing to do with this shadow. She hung it out at the window, meaning he is sure to come back for it. Let us put it where he can get it easily without disturbing the children. But, unfortunately, Mrs. Darling could not leave it hanging out at the window. It looked so like the washing and lowered the whole tone of the house. She thought of showing it to Mr. Darling, but he was totting up winter greatcoats for John and Michael with a wet towel around his head to keep his brain clear, and it seemed a shame to trouble him. Besides, she knew exactly what he would say. It all comes of having a dog for a nurse. She decided to roll the shadow up and put it away carefully in a drawer until a fitting opportunity came for telling her husband. Ah, me. The opportunity came a week later on that never-to-be-forgotten Friday. Of course, it was a Friday. I ought to have been specially careful on a Friday, she used to say afterwards to her husband, while perhaps Nana was on the other side of her, holding her hand. No, no, Mr. Darling always said, I am responsible for it all. I, George Darling, did it. Mea culpa, mea culpa. He had had a classical education. They sat, thus, night after night, recalling that fatal Friday till every detail of it was stamped on their brains and came through on the other side, like the faces on a bad coinage. If only I had not accepted that invitation to dine at twenty-seven, Mrs. Darling said. If only I had not poured my medicine into Nana's bowl, said Mr. Darling. If only I had pretended to like the medicine, was what Nana's wet eyes said. My liking for parties, George. My fatal gift for humor, dearest. My touchiness about trifles, dear master and mistress. Then one or more of them would break down altogether. Nana, at the thought, It's true, it's true, they ought not to have had a dog for a nurse. Many a time it was Mr. Darling who put the handkerchief to Nana's eyes. That fiend, Mr. Darling would cry, and Nana's bark was the echo of it. But Mrs. Darling never upgraded Peter. There was something in the right-hand corner of her mouth that wanted her not to call Peter names. They would sit there in the empty nursery, recalling fondly every smallest detail of that dreadful evening. It had begun so uneventfully, so precisely like a hundred other evenings, with Nana putting on the water for Michael's bath and carrying him to it on her back. I won't go to bed, he had shouted, like one who still believed that he had the last word on the subject. I won't, I won't. Nana, it isn't six o'clock yet. Oh dear, oh dear, I shan't love you any more, Nana. I tell you, I won't be bathed. I won't, I won't. Then Mrs. Darling had come in, wearing her white evening gown. She had dressed early because Wendy so loved to see her in her evening gown, with the necklace George had given her. She was wearing Wendy's bracelet on her arm. She had asked for the loan of it. Wendy loved to lend her bracelet to her mother. She had found her two older children playing at being herself and father on the occasion of Wendy's birth, and John was saying, I am happy to inform you, Mrs. Darling, that you are now a mother. In just such a tone, as Mr. Darling himself may have used on the real occasion. Wendy had danced with joy, just as the real Mrs. Darling must have done. Then John was born with the extra pomp that he conceived due to the birth of a male, and Michael came from his bath to ask to be born also, but John said brutally that they did not want any more. Michael had nearly cried. Nobody wants me, he said, and of course the lady in the evening dress could not stand that. I do, she said, I so want a third child. Boy or girl, asked Michael, not too hopefully. Boy. Then he had leapt into her arms. Such a little thing for Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana to recall now, not so little if that was to be Michael's last night in the nursery. They go on with their recollections. It was then that I rushed in like a tornado, wasn't it, Mr. Darling would say, scorning himself, and indeed he had been like a tornado. Perhaps there was some excuse for him. He too had been dressing for the party, and all had gone well with him until he came to his tie. It is an astounding thing to have to tell, but this man, though he knew about stocks and shares, had no real mastery of his tie. Sometimes the thing yielded to him without a contest, but there were occasions when it would have been better for the house if he had swallowed his pride and used a made-up tie. This was such an occasion. He came rushing into the nursery with the crumbled little brute of a tie in his hand. Why, what is the matter, Father Dear? Matter, he yelled. He really yelled. This tie it will not tie. He became dangerously sarcastic. Not round my neck, round the bed post. Oh yes, twenty times have I made it up round the bed post, but round my neck no, oh dear no, begs to be excused. He thought Mrs. Darling was not sufficiently impressed, and he went on sternly. I warn you of this, Mother, that unless this tie is round my neck, we don't go out to dinner tonight. And if I don't go out to dinner tonight, I never go to the office again. And if I don't go to the office again, you and I starve, and our children will be flung into the streets. Even then Mrs. Darling was placid. Let me try, dear, she said, and indeed that was what he had come to ask her to do, and with her nice, cool hands she tied his tie for him while the children stood around to see their fate decided. Some men would have resented her being able to do it so easily, but Mr. Darling had far too fine a nature for that. He thanked her carelessly, at once forgot his rage, and in another moment was dancing round the room with Michael on his back. How wildly we romped, says Mrs. Darling now, recalling it. Our last romp, Mr. Darling groaned. Oh, George, do you remember Michael suddenly said to me, how did you get to know me, Mother? I remember. They were rather sweet, don't you think, George? And they were ours, ours, and now they are gone. The romp had ended with the appearance of Nana, and most unluckily Mr. Darling collided against her, covering his trousers with hairs. They were not only new trousers, but they were the first he had ever had with braid on them, and he had had to bite his lip to prevent the tears coming. Of course Mrs. Darling brushed him, but he began to talk again about its being a mistake to have a dog for a nurse. George, Nana is a treasure! No doubt, but I have an uneasy feeling at times that she looks upon the children as puppies. Oh, no, dear one, I feel sure she knows they have souls. I wonder, Mr. Darling said thoughtfully, I wonder. It was an opportunity, his wife felt, for telling him about the boy. At first he poo-pooed the story, but he became thoughtful when she showed him the shadow. It is nobody I know, he said, examining it carefully, but it does look scoundrel. We were still discussing it, you remember, says Mr. Darling, when Nana came in with Michael's medicine. You will never carry the bottle in your mouth again, Nana, and it is all my fault. Strong man, though he was, there is no doubt that he had behaved rather foolishly over the medicine. If he had a weakness, it was for thinking that all his life he had taken medicine boldly, and so now, when Michael dodged the spoon in Nana's mouth, he had said reprovingly, be a man, Michael. Won't, won't, Michael cried naughtily. Mrs. Darling left the room to get a chocolate for him, and Mr. Darling thought this showed want of firmness. Mother, don't pamper him, he called after her. Michael, when I was your age, I took medicine without a murmur. I said, thank you kind parents for giving me bottles to make me well. He really thought this was true, and Wendy, who was now in her nightgown, believed it also, and she said to encourage Michael, that medicine you sometimes take, Father, is much nastier, isn't it? Ever so much nastier, Mr. Darling said bravely, and I would take it now as an example to you, Michael, if I hadn't lost the bottle. He had not exactly lost it. He had climbed into dead of night to the top of the wardrobe and hidden it there. What he did not know was that the faithful Liza had found it and put it back on his wash stand. I know where it is, Father, Wendy cried, always glad to be of service. I'll bring it. And she was off before he could stop her. Immediately his spirit sank in the strangest way. John, he said, shuddering, it's most beastly stuff, it's that nasty, sticky, sweet kind. It will soon be over, Father, John said cheerily, and then in rushed Wendy with the medicine in the glass. I have been as quick as I could, she panted. You have been wonderfully quick. Her father retorted, with a vindictive politeness that was quite thrown away upon her. Michael first, he said doggedly. Father first, said Michael, who was of a suspicious nature. I shall be sick, you know, Mr. Darling said threateningly. Come on, Father, said John. Hold your tongue, John, his father rapped out. Wendy was quite puzzled. I thought you took it quite easily, Father. That is not the point, he retorted. The point is that there is more in my glass than in Michael's spoon. His proud heart was nearly bursting, and it isn't fair. I would say it though it were with my last breath. It isn't fair. Father, I'm waiting, said Michael coldly. It's all very well to say you are waiting, so am I waiting. Father's a cowardly custard. So are you a cowardly custard. I'm not frightened. Neither am I frightened. Well, then take it. Well, then you take it. Wendy had a splendid idea. Why not both take it at the same time? Certainly, said Mr. Darling. Are you ready, Michael? Wendy gave the words one, two, three. And Michael took his medicine, but Mr. Darling slipped his behind his back. There was a yell of rage from Michael. And, oh, Father, Wendy exclaimed. What do you mean by, oh, Father, Mr. Darling demanded. Stop that row, Michael. I meant to take mine, but I missed it. It was dreadful the way all the three were looking at him, just as if they did not admire him. Look here, all of you, he said, and treatingly. As soon as Nana had gone into the bathroom, I have just thought of a splendid joke. I shall pour my medicine into Nana's bowl, and she will drink it, thinking it is milk. It was the colour of milk, but the children did not have their father's sense of humour, and they looked at him reproachfully as he poured the medicine into Nana's bowl. What fun, he said doubtfully. And they did not dare expose him when Mrs. Darling and Nana returned. Nana, good dog, he said, patting her. I have put a little milk into your bowl, Nana. Nana wagged her tail, ran to the medicine, and began lapping it. Then she gave Mr. Darling such a look. Not an angry look. She showed him the great red tear that makes us so sorry for noble dogs, and crept into her kennel. Mr. Darling was frightfully ashamed of himself, but he would not give in. In a horrid silence Mrs. Darling smelt the bowl. Oh, George, she said, it's your medicine. It was only a joke, he roared, while she comforted her boys, and Wendy hugged Nana. Much good, he said bitterly, by wearing myself to the bone trying to be funny in this house. And still Wendy hugged Nana. That's right, he shouted. Coddle her. Nobody coddles me. Oh, dear, no, I am only the breadwinner. Why should I be coddled? Why, why, why? George, Mrs. Darling entreated him, not so loud. The servants will hear you. Somehow they had got into the way of calling Liza the servants. Let them, he answered recklessly, bring in the whole world. But I refused to allow that dog to lord it in my nursery for an hour longer. The children wept, and Nana ran to him beseechingly, but he waved her back. He felt he was a strong man again. In vain, in vain, he cried, the proper place for you is the yard, and there you go to be tied up this instant. George, George, Mrs. Darling whispered, remember what I told you about that boy? Alas, he would not listen. He was determined to show who was master in that house, and when commands would not draw Nana from the kennel, he lured her out of it with honeyed words, and seizing her roughly dragged her from the nursery. He was ashamed of himself, and yet he did it. It was all owing to his too affectionate nature, which craved for admiration. When he had tied her up in the back yard, the wretched father went and sat in the passage with his knuckles to his eyes. In the meantime, Mrs. Darling had put the children to bed in unwanted silence and lit their nightlights. They could hear Nana barking, and John whimpered, it is because he was chaining her up in the yard. But Wendy was wiser. That is not Nana's unhappy bark, she said, little guessing what was about to happen. That is her bark when she smells danger. Danger? Are you sure, Wendy? Oh, yes. Mrs. Darling quivered and went to the window. It was securely fastened. She looked out, and the night was peppered with stars. They were crowding round the house, as if curious to see what was to take place there. But she did not notice this, nor that one or two of the smaller ones winked at her. Yet a nameless fear clutched at her heart and made her cry, oh, how I wish that I wasn't going to a party tonight. Even Michael, already half asleep, knew that she was perturbed, and he asked, can anything harm us, Mother, after the nightlights are lit? Nothing precious, she said. They are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to guard her children. She went from bed to bed, singing enchantments over them, and little Michael flung his arms round her. Mother, he cried, I'm glad of you. They were the last words she was to hear from him for a long time. Number 27 was only a few yards distant, but there had been a slight fall of snow, and Father and Mother Darling picked their way over it deftly, not to soil their shoes. They were already the only persons in the street, and all the stars were watching them. Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything. They must just look on forever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was. So the older ones have become glassy-eyed, and seldom speak. Winking is the star language, but the little ones still wonder. They are not really friendly to Peter, who had a mischievous way of stealing up behind them and trying to blow them out. But they are so fond of fun that they were on his side tonight, and anxious to get the grown-ups out of the way. So as soon as the door of 27 closed on Mr. and Mrs. Darling, there was a commotion in the firmament, and the smallest of all the stars in the Milky Way screamed out, Now Peter! End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 of Peter Pan This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recorded by Julian Jameson Peter Pan by J. M. Berry Chapter 3 Come away! Come away! For a moment after Mr. and Mrs. Darling left the house, the nightlights by the beds of the three children continued to burn clearly. They were awfully nice little nightlights, and one cannot help wishing that they could have kept awake to see Peter. But Wendy's light blinked and gave such a yawn that the other two yawned also, and before they could close their mouths, they went out. There was another light in the room now, a thousand times brighter than the nightlights, and in the time we have taken to say this, it had been in all the drawers in the nursery, looking for Peter's shadow, rummaged the wardrobe, and turned every pocket inside out. It was not really a light. It made this light by flashing about so quickly, but when it came to rest for a second, you saw it was a fairy, no longer than your hand, but still growing. A girl called Tinkerbell exquisitely gowned in a skeleton leaf, cut low and square, through which her figure could be seen to the best advantage. She was slightly inclined to ombom point. A moment after the fairy's entrance, the window was blown open by the breathing of the little stars, and Peter dropped in. He had carried Tinkerbell part of the way, and his hand was still messy with the fairy dust. He called softly, after making sure that the children were asleep, Tink, where are you? She was in a jug for the moment, and liking it extremely. She had never been in a jug before. Oh, do come out of that jug, and tell me, do you know where they put my shadow? The loveliest Tinkle as of Golden Bells answered him, it is the fairy language. New ordinary children can never hear it, but if you were to hear it, you would have heard it once before. Tink said that the shadow was in the big box. She meant the chest of drawers, and Peter jumped at the drawers, scattering their contents to the floor with both hands, as King's toss happens to the crowd. In a moment he had recovered his shadow, and in his delight he forgot that he had shut Tinkerbell up in the drawer. If he thought at all, but I don't believe he ever thought, it was that he and his shadow, near each other, would join like drops of water, and when they did not, he was appalled. He tried to stick it on with soap from the bathroom, but that also failed. A shudder passed through Peter, and he sat on the floor and cried. His sobs woke Wendy, and she sat up in bed. She was not alarmed to see a stranger crying on the nursery floor. She was only pleasantly interested. Boy, she said, courteously, why are you crying? Peter could be exceeding polite also, having learned the grand manner at fairy ceremonies, and he rose and bowed to her beautifully. She was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the bed. What's your name? He asked. Wendy Moira Angela Darling. She replied with some satisfaction. What is your name? Peter Pan. She was already sure that he must be Peter, but it did seem a comparatively short name. Is that all? Yes, he said, rather sharply. He felt, for the first time, that it was a shortish name. I'm so sorry, said Wendy Moira Angela. It doesn't matter, Peter gulped. She asked where he lived. Second to the right, said Peter, and then straight on till morning. What a funny address! Peter had a sinking. For the first time, he felt that perhaps it was a funny address. No, it isn't, he said. I mean, Wendy said nicely, remembering that she was hostess. Is that what they put on the letters? He wished she had not mentioned letters. Don't get any letters, he said, contemptuously. But your mother gets letters? Don't have a mother, he said. Not only had he no mother, but he had not the same mother as she had. Not only had he no mother, but he had not the slightest desire to have one. He thought them very overrated persons. Wendy, however, felt at once that she was in the presence of a tragedy. Oh, Peter, no wonder you were crying, she said, and got out of bed and ran to him. I wasn't crying about mothers, he said, rather indignantly. I was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick on. Besides, I wasn't crying. Did you come off? Yes. Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor, looking so draggled, and she was frightfully sorry for Peter. How awful, she said, but she could not help smiling when she saw that he'd been trying to stick it on with soap, how exactly like a boy. Fortunately, she knew at once what to do. It must be so known, she said, just a little patronizingly. What's so known, he asked? The ignorant? No, I'm not. But she was exulting in his ignorance. I shall sow it on for you, my little man, she said, though he was tall as herself, and she got out her housewife and sowed the shadow onto Peter's foot. I daresay it will hurt a little, she warned him. Oh, I shan't cry, said Peter, who was already of the opinion that he had never cried in his life, and he clenched his teeth and did not cry, and soon his shadow was behaving properly, and he was still a little creased. Perhaps I should have ironed it, Wendy said thoughtfully, but Peter, boylike, was indifferent to appearances, and he was now jumping about in the wildest glee. Alas, he had already forgotten that he owed his bliss to Wendy. He thought he'd attached the shadow himself. How clever I am, he crowed rapturously. Oh, the cleverness of me! It is humiliating to have to confess that this conceit of Peter was one of his most fascinating qualities. To put it with brutal frankness, there never was a cockier boy. But for the moment, Wendy was shocked. You conceit, she exclaimed, with frightful sarcasm, of course I did nothing. You did a little, Peter said, carelessly, and continued to dance. A little, she replied, with hotter, if I am no use, I can at least withdraw, and she sprang in the most dignified way into bed and covered her face with the blood to induce her to look up. He pretended to be going away, and when this failed, he sat on the end of the bed and tapped her gently with his foot. Wendy, he said, don't withdraw. I can't help crowing Wendy when I am pleased with myself. Still, she would not look up, though she was listening eagerly. Wendy, he continued, in a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist. Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys. Now, Wendy was every inch a woman, though there were not very many inches, and she peeped out of the bed clothes. Do you really think so, Peter? Yes, I do. I think it's perfectly sweet of you, she declared, and I'll get up again, and she sat with him on the side of the bed. She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter did not know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly. Surely you know what a kiss is, she asked, aghast. I shall know when you give it to me, he replied, stiffly, and not to hurt his feeling she gave him a thimble. Now, said he, shall I give you a kiss? And she replied with a slight primness, if you please. She made herself rather cheap by inclining her face toward him, but he merely dropped an acorn button so she slowly returned her face to where it had been before, and said nicely that she would wear his kiss on the chain around her neck. It was lucky that she did put it on that chain, for it was afterwards to save her life. When people in our set are introduced, it is customary for them to ask each other's age, and so Wendy, who always liked to do the correct thing, asked Peter how old he was. It was not really a happy question to ask him, it was like an examination paper that asks grammar when what you want to be asked is Kings of England. I don't know, he replied, uneasily, but I am quite young. He really knew nothing about it. He had merely suspicions, but he said at a venture, Wendy, I ran away the day I was born. Wendy was quite surprised, but interested, and she indicated in the charming drawing-room manner by a touch on her nightgown that she could sit nearer her. It was because I heard father and mother, he explained, in a low voice, talking about what I was to be when I became a man. He was extraordinarily agitated now. I don't want ever to be a man, he said with passion. I want always to be a little boy and to have fun, so I ran away to Kensington Gardens and lived a long, long time among the fairies. She gave him a look because he had run away, but it was really because he knew fairies. Wendy had lived such a home life that to know fairies struck her as quite delightful. She poured out questions about them to his surprise, for they were rather a nuisance to him getting in his way and so on, and indeed he sometimes had to give them a hiding. Still, he liked them on the whole, and he told her about the beginning of fairies. You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. Tidious talk this, but being a stay at home, she liked it. And so he went on, good-naturedly, there ought to be one fairy for every boy and girl. Odd to be, isn't there? No. You see, children know such a lot now, they soon don't believe in fairies, and every time a child says, I don't believe in fairies. There was a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. Really, he thought, they had now talked enough about fairies, and it struck them that Tinkerbell was keeping very quiet. I can't think where she's gone to, he said, rising, and he called Tink by name. Wendy's heart went flutter with a sudden thrill. Peter, she cried, clutching him, you don't mean to tell me that there's a fairy in this room? She was here just now, where do you? And they both listened. The only sound I hear, said Wendy, is like a tinkle of bells. Well, that's Tink, that's the fairy language. I think I hear her too. The sound came from the chest of drawers, and Peter made a merry face. No one could ever look quite so merry as Peter, and the loveliest of gurgles was his laugh. He had his first laugh still. Wendy, he whispered gleefully, I do believe I shut her up in the drawer. He let poor Tink out of the drawer, and she flew about the nursery, screaming with fury. You shouldn't say such things, Peter retorted. Of course I'm very sorry, but how could I know you were in the drawer? Wendy was not listening to him. Oh, Peter, she cried, if she would only stand still and let me see her. They hardly ever stand still, he said. But for one moment Wendy saw the romantic figure come to rest on the cuckoo clock. Oh, the lovely, she cried, though Tink's face was still distorted with passion. Tink, said Peter, amiably. This lady says she wishes you were her fairy. Tinkerbell answered, insolently. What does she say, Peter? He had to translate. She is not very polite. She says you are a great ugly girl, and that she is my fairy. He tried to argue with Tink. You know you can't be my fairy, Tink, because I am a gentleman, lady. To this Tink replied in these words, you silly ass, and disappeared into the bathroom. She is quite a common fairy, Peter explained apologetically. She is called Tinkerbell, because she mends the pots and kettles. They were together in the armchair by this time, and Wendy plied him with more questions. If you don't live in Kensington Gardens now, sometimes I do still. But where do you live mostly now? With the lost boys. Who are they? They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days, they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expenses. I am captain. What fun it must be! Yes, said cunning Peter, but we are rather lonely. You see, we have no female companionship. Are none of the others girls? Oh no, girls you know are much too clever to fall out of their prams. This flattered Wendy immensely. I think, she said, it is perfectly lovely the way you talk about girls. John there just despises us. For reply Peter rose and kicked John out of bed, blankets and all, one kick. This seemed to Wendy rather forward for a first meeting, and she told him with spirit that he was not captain in her house. However, John continued to sleep so placidly on the floor that she allowed him to remain there. And I know you meant to be kind, she said, relenting, so you may give me a kiss. For the moment, she had forgotten his ignorance about kisses. I thought you would want it back, he said a little bitterly and offered to return her the thimble. Oh dear, said the nice Wendy, I don't mean a kiss, I mean a thimble. She kissed him. Funny, said Peter gravely. Now shall I give you a thimble? If you wish to, said Wendy, keeping her head erect this time. Peter thimbled her, and almost immediately she screeched. What is it, Wendy? It was exactly as if someone were pulling my hair. That must have been Tink. I never knew her so naughty before. And indeed Tink was darting about again, using offensive language. She says she will do that to you, Wendy, every time I give you a thimble. But why? Why, Tink? Again, Tink replied. You silly ass! Peter could not understand why, but Wendy understood, and she was just slightly disappointed when he admitted that he came to the nursery window not to see her, but to listen to stories. You see, I don't know any stories, but most boys knows any stories. How perfectly awful, Wendy said. Do you know, Peter asked, why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories. Oh, Wendy, your mother was telling you such a lovely story. Which story was it? About the prince who couldn't find the lady who wore the glass slipper. Peter said, Wendy, excitedly, that was Cinderella, who lived happily ever after. Peter was so glad that he rose from the floor where they had been sitting, and hurried to the window. Where are you going? She cried with misgiving, to tell the other boys. Don't go, Peter, she entreated. I know such lots of stories. Those were her precise words, so there can be no denying that it was she who first attempted him. He came back, now, which ought to have alarmed her, but did not. Oh, the stories I could tell to the boys, she cried, and then Peter gripped her, and began to draw her toward the window. Let me go, she ordered him. Wendy, do come with me and tell the other boys. Of course, she was very pleased to be asked, but she said, oh, dear, I can't. Think of Mummy, besides, I can't fly. I'll teach you. How lovely to fly. I'll teach you how to jump on the wind's back, and then away we go. Oh, she exclaimed rapturously. Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed, you might be flying about with me, saying funny things to the stars. Oh, and Wendy, there are mermaids. Mermaids? With tails? Long tails. Oh, cried Wendy, to see a mermaid. He had become frightfully cunning. Wendy, he said, how we should all respect you. She was wriggling her body in distress. It was quite as if she were trying to remain on the nursery floor. But he had no pity for her. Wendy, he said, the sly one, you could tuck us in at night. Oh, none of us has ever been tucked in at night. Oh, and her arms went out to him. And you could darn our clothes and make pockets for us. None of us has any pockets. How could she resist? Of course, it's awfully fascinating, she cried. Peter, would you teach John and Michael to fly, too? If you like, he said, indifferently. And she ran to John and Michael and shook them. Wake up, she cried. Peter Pan has come, and he is to teach us to fly. John rubbed his eyes. Then I shall get up, he said. Of course, he was on the floor already. Hello, he said, I am up. Michael was up by this time also, looking as sharp as a knife their faces assumed the awful craftiness of children listening for sounds from the grown-up world. All was as still as salt. Then everything was right. No, stop. Everything was wrong. Nana, who had been barking distressfully all the evening, was quiet now. It was her silence they had heard. Out with the light, hide! Quick! cried John, taking command for the only time she had ever been on an adventure. And thus, when Liza entered, holding Nana, the nursery seemed quite its old self, very dark, and you would have sworn you heard its three wicked inmates breathing angelically as they slept. They were really doing it artfully from behind the window curtains. Liza was in a bad temper, for she was mixing the Christmas puddings in the kitchen and had been drawn from them with a raisin still on her cheek for a few minutes. She thought the best way of getting a little quiet was to take Nana to the nursery for a moment, but in custody, of course. There, you suspicious brute, she said, not sorry that Nana was in disgrace. They are perfectly safe, aren't they? Every one of the little angels sound asleep in bed, listen to their gentle breathing. Here, Michael, encouraged by his success, breathed so loudly that they were nearly detected. Nana knew that kind of breathing, so she tried to drag herself out of Liza's clutches. But Liza was dense. No more of it, Nana, she said, sternly, pulling her out of the room. I warn you if Bark again, I shall go straight for Master and Mrs and bring them home from the party, and then, oh, won't Master whip you just? She tied the unhappy dog up again. But do you think Nana ceased to Bark? Bring Master and Mrs home from the party? Why, that was just what she wanted. Do you think she cared whether she was whipped so long as her charges were safe? Unfortunately, Liza returned to her puddings, and Nana, seeing that no help would come from her, strained and strained at the chain until at last she broke it. In another moment, she'd burst into the dining room of 27 and flung up her paws to Heaven, her most expressive way of making a communication. Mr. and Mrs. Darling knew at once that something terrible was happening in their nursery, and without a goodbye to their hostess, they rushed into the street. But it was now ten minutes since three scoundrels had been breathing behind the curtains, and Peter Pan can do a great deal in ten minutes. We now return to the nursery. It's all right, John announced, emerging from his hiding place. I say, Peter, can you really fly? Instead of troubling to answer him, Peter flew around the room, taking the mantelpiece on the way. How topping, said John and Michael, how sweet, cried Wendy. Yes, I know, I am sweet, said Peter, forgetting his manners again. It looked delightfully easy, and they tried at first from the floor and then from the beds, but they always went down instead of up. I say, how do you do it? asked John, rubbing his knee. He was quite a practical boy. You just think lovely, wonderful thoughts, Peter explained, and they lift you up in the air. He showed them again. You're so nippy at it, John said. Couldn't you do it very slowly once? Peter did it both slowly and quickly. I've got it now, Wendy, cried John, but soon he found he had not. Not one of them could fly an inch, though even Michael was in words of two syllables, and Peter did not know A from Z. Of course, Peter had been trifling with them, for no one can fly unless the fairy dust has been blown on him. Fortunately, as we have mentioned, one of his hands was messy with it, and he blew some on each of them with the most superb results. Now just wiggle your shoulders this way, he said, and let go. They were all on their beds and Gallant Michael let go first. He did not quite mean to let go, but he did it, and immediately he was born across the room. I flued, he screamed while still in mid-air. John let go and met Wendy near the bathroom. Oh, lovely! Oh, ripping! Look at me! Look at me! They were not nearly so elegant as Peter. They could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling, and there is almost nothing so delicious as that. Peter gave Wendy a hand at first, but had to desist, Tink was so indignant. And round and round, heavenly was Wendy's word. I say, cried John, why shouldn't we all go out? Of course, it was to this that Peter had been luring them. Michael was ready. He wanted to see how long it took him to do a billion miles, but Wendy hesitated. Mermaids, said Peter again. Ooh! And there are pirates. Pirates, cried John, seizing his Sunday hat. Let us go at once! It was just at this moment that Mr. and Mrs. Darling hurried with Nana out of twenty-seven. They ran into the middle of the street to look up at the nursery window. And yes, it was still shut, but the room was ablaze with light, and most hard-gripping sight of all they could see in shadow on the curtain three little figures in night attire circling round and round, not on the floor, but in the air. Not three figures. Four. In a tremble they opened the street door. Mr. Darling would have rushed upstairs, but Mrs. Darling signaled him to go softly. She even tried to make her heart to go softly. Will they reach the nursery in time? If so, how delightful for them! And we shall all breathe a sigh of relief, but there will be no story. On the other hand, I solemnly promise that it will all come right in the end. They would have reached the nursery in time had it not been that the little stars were watching them. Once again the stars blew the window open, and that smallest star of all called out, Cave, Peter. Then Peter knew that there was not a moment to lose. Come, he cried imperiously, and soared out at once into the night, John, and Michael, and Wendy. Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana rushed into the nursery too late. The birds were flown. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of Peter Pan This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by William Ching Peter Pan by J. M. Barry Chapter 4 The Flight Second to the right and straight on till morning. That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to the Neverland, but even birds carrying maps and consulting them at windy corners cannot have cited it with these instructions. Peter, you see, just said anything that came into his head. At first his companions trusted him implicitly, and so great were the delights of flying that they wasted time circling round church spires or any other tall objects on the way that took their fancy. John and Michael raced, Michael getting a start. They recalled with contempt that not so long ago they had thought themselves fine fellows were able to fly round a room. Not long ago, but how long ago? They were flying over the sea before this thought began to disturb Wendy seriously. John thought it was their second sea and their third night. Sometimes it was dark and sometimes light and now they were very cold and again too warm. Did they really feel hungry at times? Or were they merely pretending? Because Peter had such a jolly new way of feeding them. His way was to pursue birds who had food in their mouths suitable for humans and snatch it from them. Then the birds would follow and snatch it back. And they would all go chasing each other gaily for miles, parting at last with mutual expressions of goodwill. But Wendy noticed with gentle concern that Peter did not seem to know that this was rather an odd way or even that there were other ways. Certainly they did not pretend to be sleepy. They were sleepy. And that was a danger. For the moment they popped off, down they fell. The awful thing was that Peter thought this funny. There he goes again. He would cry gleefully as Michael suddenly dropped like a stone. Save him! Save him! cried Wendy, looking with horror at the cruel sea far below. He would dive through the air and catch Michael just before he could strike the sea. And it was lovely the way he did it. But he always waited to the last moment. And you felt it was his cleverness that interested him and not the saving of human life. Also he was fond of variety. And the sport that engrossed in one moment would suddenly cease to engage him. So there was always the possibility that the next time you fell he would let you go. He could sleep in the air without falling or floating. But this was, partly at least, because he was so light that if he got behind him in blue he went faster. Do be more polite to him, Wendy whispered to John when they were playing Follow My Leader. Then tell him to stop showing off, said John. When playing Follow My Leader Peter would fly close to the water and touch each shark's tail and passing. Just as in the street they could not follow him in this with much success. So perhaps it was rather like showing off, especially as he kept looking behind to see how many tails they missed. You must be nice to him, Wendy impressed upon her brothers. What could we do if he were to leave us? We could go back, Michael said. How could we ever find our way back without him? Well then, we could go on, said John. That is the awful thing, John. We should have to go on, for we don't know how to stop. This was true. Peter had forgotten to show them how to stop. John said that if the worst came to the worst all they had to do was to go straight on, for the world was round. And so in time they must come back to their own window. And who is to get food for us, John? I nipped a bit out of that eagle's mouth pretty neatly, Wendy. The twentieth try, Wendy reminded him. And even though it became good at picking up food see how we bump against clouds and things if he is not near to give us a hand? Indeed, they were constantly bumping. They could now fly strongly, though they still kicked far too much. But if they saw a cloud in front of them the more they tried to avoid it the more certainly did they bump into it. If Nana had been with them she would have had a bandage around Michael's forehead by this time. Peter was not with them for the moment and they felt rather lonely up there by themselves. He could go so much faster than they that he would suddenly shoot out of sight to have some adventure in which they had no share. He would come down laughing over something fearfully funny he had been saying to a star but he had already forgotten what it was. Or he would come up with mermaid scales still sticking to him and yet not be able to say for certain what had been happening. He was really rather irritating to children who had never seen a mermaid. And if he forgets them so quickly Wendy argued how can we expect he will go on remembering us? Indeed sometimes when he returned he did not remember them at least not well. Wendy was sure of it. She saw a recognition come into his eyes as he was about to pass them the time of day and go on. Once even she had to call him by name. I'm Wendy she said agitatedly. He was very sorry. I say Wendy he whispered to her always if you see me forgetting you just keep on saying I'm Wendy and then I'll remember of course this was rather unsatisfactory. However to make amends he showed them how to lie out flat on a strong wind that was going their way and this was such a pleasant change he did it several times and found that they could sleep thus with security. Indeed they would have slept longer but Peter tired quickly of sleeping and soon he would cry in his captain voice we get off here. So with occasional tiffs but on the whole rollicking they drew near the Neverland for after many moons did they reach it and what is more they had been going pretty straight all the time not perhaps so much owing to the guidance Peter or Tink has because the island was looking for them it was only thus that anyone may sight those magic shores there it is said Peter calmly where where where all the arrows are pointing Indeed a million golden arrows were pointing it out to the children all directed by their friend the son who wanted them to be sure of their way before leaving them for the night Wendy and John and Michael stood on tiptoe in the air to get their first sight of the island strange to say they all recognized it at once and until fear fell upon them they hailed it not as something long dreamt of and seen at last but as a familiar friend to whom they were returning home for the holidays John there is the lagoon Wendy look at the turtles burying their eggs in the sand I say John I see your flamingo with a broken leg look Michael there's your cave John what's that in the brushwood it's a wolf with her welps Wendy I do believe that's your little welp there's my boat John with her side stove in no it isn't why we burned your boat that's her at any rate I say John I see the smoke of the red skin camp where show me and I'll tell you by the way smoke curls whether they are on the warpath there just to cross the mysterious river I see now yes they are on the warpath right enough Peter was a little annoyed with them for knowing so much but if he wanted to lord it over them his triumph was at hand for heaven not told you that a non fear fell upon them he came as the arrows went leaving the island in gloom in the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime then unexplored patches arose in it and spread black shadows moved about in them the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now and above all you lost the certainty that you would win you were quite glad that the nightlights were on you even liked Nanna to say that this was just the mantelpiece over here and that the Neverland was all make believe of course the Neverland had been make believe in those days but it was real now and there were no nightlights and it was getting darker every moment and where was Nanna they had been flying apart but they huddled close to Peter now his careless manner had gone at last his eyes were sparkling and a tingle went through them every time they touched his body they were now over the fearsome island flying so low that sometimes a tree grazed their feet nothing hard was visible in the air yet their progress had become slow and labored exactly as if they were pushing their way through hostile forces sometimes they hung in the air until Peter had beaten on it with his fists they don't want us to land he explained who are they Wendy whispered shattering but he could not or would not say Tinkerbell had been asleep on a shoulder but now he wakened her and sent her on in front sometimes he poised himself in the air listening intently with his hand to his ear and again he would stare down with eyes so bright that they seemed to bore two holes to earth having done these things he went on again his courage was almost appalling would you like an adventure now he said casually to John or would you like to have your T first Wendy said T first quickly and Michael pressed her hand in gratitude but the braver John hesitated what kind of adventure he asked cautiously there's a pirate asleep in the pompous just beneath us Peter told him if you like we'll go down and kill him I don't see him John said after a long pause I do suppose John said a little huskily he were to wake up Peter spoke indignantly you don't think I would kill him while he was sleeping I would wake him first and then kill him that's the way I always do I say do you kill many tons John said how ripping but decided to have T first he asked if there were many pirates on the island just now and Peter said so many who was captain now hook answered Peter and his face became very stern as he said that hated word just hook I then indeed Michael began to cry and even John could speak in gulps only for they knew hook's reputation he was blackbeard's boson John whispered huskily he's the worst of them all he's the only man of whom barbecue was afraid that's him said Peter what is he like is he big he's not so big as he was how do you mean I cut off a bit of him you yes me said Peter sharply I wasn't meaning to be disrespectful oh alright but as I say which bit his right hand then he can't fight now oh can't he just left hander he has an iron hook instead of a right hand and he claws with it claws I say John said Peter yes say aye aye sir aye aye sir there is one thing Peter continued that every boy who serves under me has to promise and so must you John paled it is this if we meet hook and open fight you must leave him to me I promise John said loyally for the moment they were feeling less eerie because tink was flying with them and in her light they could distinguish each other unfortunately she cannot fly so slowly as they and so she had to go round and round them in a circle in which they moved as in a halo Wendy quite liked it until Peter pointed out the drawbacks she tells me he said that the pirates sighted us before the darkens came and got long time out the big gun yes and of course they must see her light and if they guess we are near it they are sure to let fly Wendy, John tell her to go away at once Peter the three cried simultaneously but he refused she thinks we have lost the way he replied stiffly and she is rather frightened you don't think I would send her away all by herself when she is frightened for a moment the circle of light was broken and something gave Peter a loving little pinch then tell her Wendy begged to put out her light she can't put it out that is about the only thing fairies can't do it just goes out of itself when she falls asleep same as the stars then tell her to sleep at once John almost ordered she can't sleep except when she is sleepy it is the only other thing fairies can't do seems to me growl John these are the only two things worth doing here he got a pinch but not a loving one if only one of us had a pocket Peter said we could carry her in it however they had set off in such a hurry that there was not a pocket between the four of them he had a happy idea John's hat Tink agreed to travel by hat if it was carried in the hand John carried it though she had hoped to be carried by Peter presently Wendy took the hat but it struck against his knee as he flew and this as we shall see led to mischief for Tinkerbell hated to be under an obligation to Wendy in the black topper the light was completely hidden and they flew on in silence it was the stillest silence they had ever known broken once by a distant lapping which Peter explained was the wild beasts drinking at the Ford and again by a rasping sound that might have been the branches of trees rubbing together but it was the redskins sharpening their knives even these noises ceased to Michael the loneliness was dreadful if only something would make a sound he cried as of an answer to his request the air was rent by the most tremendous crash he had ever heard the pirates had fired long time at them the roar of it echoed through the mountains and the echo seemed to cry savagely where are they where are they where are they thus sharply that the terrified three learned the difference between an island of make-believe and the same island come true when at last the heavens were steady again John and Michael found themselves alone in the darkness John was treading the air mechanically and Michael without knowing how to float was floating are you shot Michael whispered tremulously I haven't tried myself out yet Michael whispered back we know now that no one had been hit Peter however had been carried by the wind of the shot far out to sea while Wendy was blown upwards with no companion but tinkerbell it would have been well for Wendy if at that moment she had dropped the hat I don't know whether the idea came suddenly to tink or whether she had planned it on the way but she at once popped out of the hat and began to lure Wendy to her destruction tink was not all bad or rather she was all bad just now but on the other hand sometimes she was all good fairies have to be one thing or the other because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time they are however allowed to change only it must be a complete change at present she was full of jealousy of Wendy what she said in her lovely tinkle Wendy could not of course understand but I believe some of it was bad words but it sounded kind and she flew back and forward plainly meaning follow me and all will be well what else could poor Wendy do she called to Peter and John and Michael to reply she did not yet know that tink hated her with the fierce hatred of a very woman and so bewildered and now staggering in her flight she followed tink to her doom End of Chapter 4 Recording by William Ching Chapter 5 of Peter Pan This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina Peter Pan by J. M. Berry Chapter 5 The Island Come True Feeling that Peter was on his way back the Neverland had again woken to life we ought to use the plough perfect and say wakened but woke is better in his absence things are usually quiet on the island the fairies take an hour longer in the morning the beasts attend to their young the redskins feed heavily for six days and nights and when pirates and lost boys meet they merely bite their thumbs at each other but with the coming of Peter who hates lethargy they are under way again if you put your ear to the ground now you would hear the whole island seething with life on this evening the chief forces of the island were disposed as follows the lost boys were out looking for Peter the pirates were out looking for the lost boys the redskins were out looking for the pirates and the beasts were out looking for the redskins they were going round and round the island but they did not meet because all were going at the same rate all wanted blood except the boys who liked it as a rule but tonight were out to greet their captain the boys on the island vary of course in numbers according as they get killed and so on and when they seem to be growing up which is against the rules Peter thins them out but at this time there were six of them counting the twins as two let us pretend to lie here among the sugar cane and watch them as they steal by in single file each with his hand on his dagger they are forbidden by Peter to look in the least like him and they wear the skins of the bears slain by themselves in which they are so round and furry that when they fall they roll they have therefore become very surefooted the first to pass is Toodles not the least brave but the most unfortunate of all that gallant band he had been in fewer adventures than any of them because the big things constantly happened just when he had stepped round the corner all would be quiet he would take the opportunity of going off to gather a few sticks for firewood and then when he returned the others would be sweeping up the blood this ill luck had given a gentle melancholy to his countenance but instead of souring his nature had sweetened it so that he was quite the humblest of the boys poor kind Toodles there is danger in the air for you tonight take care lest an adventure is now offered you which if accepted will plunge you in deepest woe Toodles the fairy Tink who is bent on mischief this night is looking for a tool and she thinks you are the most easily tricked of the boys beware Tinkerbell would that he could hear us but we are not really on the island and he passes by biting his knuckles next comes Nibbs the gay and debonair followed by Slightly who cuts whistles out of the trees and dances ecstatically to his own tunes Slightly is the most conceded of the boys he thinks he remembers the days before he was lost with their manners and customs and this has given his nose an offensive tilt Curly is fourth he is a pickle and so often has he had to deliver up his person when Peter said sternly stand fourth the one who did this thing that now at the command he stands fourth automatically whether he has done it or not last come the twins who cannot be described because we should be sure to be describing the wrong one Peter never quite knew what twins were and his band were not allowed to know anything he did not know they were always vague about themselves and did their best to give satisfaction by keeping close together in an apologetic sort of way the boys vanish in the gloom and after a pause but not a long pause for things go briskly on the island come the pirates on their track we hear them before they are seen and it is always the same dreadful song and if we are parted by a shot we are sure to meet below a more villainous looking lot never hung in a row on execution dock here a little in advance ever and again with his head to the ground listening his great arms bare pieces of eight in his ears as ornaments is the handsome Italian Seco who cut his name in letters of blood on the back of the governor of the prison at Gaeo that gigantic black behind him has had many names since he dropped the one with which dusky mothers still terrify their children on the banks of the Guajomo here is Bill Jukes every inch of him tattooed the same Bill Jukes who got six dozen on the walrus from Flint before he would drop the bag of Mordorius and Cookson said to be black Murphy's brother but this was never proved and gentlemen Starkey wants an usher in a public school and still dainty in his ways of killing and Skylights Morgan Skylights and the Irish Boson Smee an oddly genial man who stabbed so to speak without a fence and was the only nonconformist and hooks crew and Newdler whose hands were fixed on backwards and Robert Mullins and Alf Mason and many another ruffian long known and feared on the Spanish main in the midst of them the blackest and largest in that dark setting reclined James Hook or as he wrote himself J. A. S. Hook of whom it is said he was the only man that the sea cook feared he lay at his ease in a rough chariot drawn and propelled by his men and instead of a right hand he had the iron hook with which ever in a none he encouraged them to increase their pace as dogs this terrible man treated and addressed them and as dogs they obeyed him in person he was cadaverous and blackivised and his hair was dressed in long curls which at a little distance looked like black candles and gave a singularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance his eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not and of a profound melancholy save when he was plunging his hook into you at which time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly in manner something of the grand signure still clung to him so that he even ripped you up with an air and I have been told that he was a raconteur of repute he was never more sinister than when he was most polite which is probably the truest test of breeding and the elegance of his diction even when he was swearing no less than the distinction of his demeanor showed him one of a different cast from his crew a man of indomitable courage it was said that the only thing he shied at was the sight of his own blood in drassy somewhat aped the attire associated with the name of Charles II having heard it said in some earlier period of his career that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated stewards and in his mouth he had a holder of his own contrivance which enabled him to smoke two cigars at once but undoubtedly the grimace part of him was his iron claw let us now kill a pirate to show Hook's method skylights will do as they pass skylights lurches clumsily against him ruffling his lace collar the hook shoots forth there is a tearing sound in one screech then the body is kicked aside and the pirates pass on he has not even taken the cigars from his mouth such is the terrible man against whom Peter Pan is pitted which will win on the trail of the pirates stealing noiselessly down the war-path which is not visible to inexperienced eyes come the redskins every one of them with his eyes peeled they carry tomahawks and knives and their naked bodies glean with paint and oil strung around them are scalps of boys as well as pirates for these are the pick and any tribe and not to be confused with the softer-hearted Delaware's or the Hurons in the van on all fours is great big little panther a brave of so many scalps that in his present position they somewhat impede his progress bringing up the rear the place of greatest danger comes Tiger Lily proudly erect a princess in her own right she is the most beautiful of dusky Diana's and the bell the pick and any's coquettish, cold and amorous by turns there is not a brave who would not have the wayward thing to wife but she staves off the altar with a hatchet observe how they pass over fallen twigs without making the slightest noise the only sound to be heard is their somewhat heavy breathing the fact is that they are all a little fat just now by the time they will work this off for the moment however it constitutes their chief danger the Redskins disappear as they have come like shadows and soon their place is taken by the beasts a great and motley procession lions, tigers, bears and the innumerable smaller savage things that flee from them for every kind of beast and more particularly all the man-eaters all on the favored island their tongues are hanging out they are hungry tonight when they have passed comes the last figure of all a gigantic crocodile we shall see for whom she is looking presently the crocodile passes but soon the boys appear again for the procession must continue indefinitely until one of the parties stops or changes its pace then quickly they will be on top of each other all are keeping a sharp look out in front but none suspects that the danger may be creeping up from behind this shows how real the island was the first to fall out of the moving circle was the boys they flung themselves down on the Sward close to their underground home I do wish Peter would come back every one of them said nervously though in height and still more in breath they were all larger than their captain I am the only one who is not afraid of the pirates slightly said in the tone that prevented his being a general favorite but perhaps some distant sound disturbed him for he added hastily but I wish he would come back and tell us whether he has heard anything more about Cinderella they talked of Cinderella confident that his mother must have been very like her it was only in Peter's absence that they could speak of mothers the subject being forbidden by him as silly all I remember about my mother Nibbs told them is that she often said to my father oh how I wish I had a checkbook of my own I don't know what a checkbook is but I should just love to give my mother one while they talked they heard a distant sound you or I not being wild things of the woods would have heard nothing but they heard it and it was the grim song yo ho yo ho the pirate life the flag of skull and bones a merry hour a hemp and rope and hay for Davey Jones at once the lost boys but where are they no longer there rabbits could not have disappeared more quickly I will tell you where they are with the exception of Nibbs who has darted away to Reconoiter they are already in their home under the ground a very delightful residence of which we shall see a good deal presently but how have they reached it for there is no entrance to be seen not so much as a large stone which if rolled away would disclose the mouth of a cave look closely however and you may note that there are here seven large trees each with a hole in its hollow trunk as large as a boy these are the seven entrances to the home under the ground for which hook has been searching in vain these many moons will he find it tonight as the pirates advanced the quick eye of Starkey sighted Nibbs disappearing through the wood and it once his pistol flashed out but an iron claw gripped his shoulder Captain let go he cried writhing now for the first time we hear the voice of hook it was a black voice put back that pistol first it said threateningly it was one of those boys you hate I could have shot him dead I and the sound would have brought Tiger Lily's redskins upon us do you want to lose your scalp shall I after him Captain? asked pathetic Smee and tickle him with Johnny Corkscrew Smee had pleasant names for everything and his cutlass was Johnny Corkscrew because he wiggled it in the wound one could mention many lovable traits in Smee for instance after killing it was his spectacles he wiped instead of his weapon Johnny's a silent fellow he reminded hook not now Smee hook said darkly he is only one and I want to mischief all the seven scatter and look for them the pirates disappeared among the trees and in a moment their captain and Smee were alone hook heaved a heavy sigh and I know not why it was perhaps it was because of the soft beauty of the evening but there came over him a desire to confide to his faithful bosson the story of his life he spoke long and earnestly but what it was all about Smee who was rather stupid did not know in the least Anon he caught the word Peter most of all hook was saying passionately I want their captain Peter Pan choice he cut off my arm he brandished the hook threateningly I've waited long to shake his hand with this oh I'll tear him and yet Smee I have often heard you say that hook was worth a score of hands for combing the hair and other homely uses I, the captain answered if I was a mother I would pray to have my children born with this instead of that and he cast a look of pride upon his iron hand and one of scorned upon the other then again he frowned Peter flung my arm he said, wincing to a crocodile that happened to be passing by I have often, said Smee noticed your strange dread of crocodiles not of crocodiles hook corrected him but of that one crocodile he lowered his voice it liked my arm so much, Smee that it has followed me ever since from sea to sea and from land to land licking its lips for the rest of me in a way said Smee it's sort of a compliment I want no such compliments hook barked petulently I want Peter Pan who first gave the brute its taste for me he sat down on a large mushroom and now there was a quiver in his voice Smee he said huskily that crocodile would have had me before this but by a lucky chance it swallowed a clock which goes tick tick inside it and so before it can reach me I hear the tick and bolt he laughed but in a hollow way some day, said Smee the clock will run down and then he'll get you hook wetted his dry lips I he said that's the fear that haunts me since sitting down he had felt curiously warm Smee he said this seat is hot he jumped up odds, bobs, hammer and tongs, I'm burning they examined the mushroom the size and solidity unknown on the mainland they tried to pull it up and it came away at once in their hands for it had no root stranger still Smee began at once to ascend the pirates looked at each other a chimney they both exclaimed they had indeed discovered the chimney of the home under the ground it was the custom of the boys to stop it with a mushroom when enemies were in the neighborhood not only smoke came out of it there came also children's voices for so safe did the boys feel in their hiding place that they were gaily chattering the pirates listened grimly and then replaced the mushroom they looked around them and noted the holes in the seven trees did you hear them say Peter Pan's from home Smee whispered fidgeting with Johnny Corkscrew Hook nodded for a long time lost in thought and at last a curdling smile lit up his swarthy face Smee had been waiting for it I'll rip your plan captain he cried eagerly to return to the ship Hook replied slowly through his teeth and cook a large rich cake of a jolly thickness with green sugar on it there can be but one room below for there is but one chimney the silly moles had not the sense to see that they did not need a door a piece that shows they have no mother we will leave the cake on the shore of the mermaids lagoon these boys are always swimming about there playing with the mermaids they will find the cake and they will gobble it up because having no mother they don't know how dangerous it is to eat rich damp cake ha ha ha he burst into laughter not hollow laughter now but honest laughter ha ha ha they will die Smee had listened with growing admiration it's the wickedest prettiest policy ever I heard of he cried and in their exultation they danced and sang a vaspele when I appear by fear they're overtook those will hook they began the verse but they never finished it for another sound broke in and stilled them there was at first such a tiny sound that a leaf might have fallen on it and smothered it but as it came nearer it was more distinct hook stood shuttering one foot in the air the crocodile he cast and bounded away followed by his boson it was indeed the crocodile it had passed the redskins who were now on the trail of the other pirates it oozed on after hook once more the boys emerged into the open but the dangers of the night were not yet over for presently nibs rushed breathless into their midst pursued by a pack of wolves the tongues of the pursuers were hanging out the bang of them was horrible save me save me cried nibs falling on the ground but what can we do what can we do it was a high compliment to peter that at that dire moment their thoughts turned to him what would peter do they cried simultaneously almost in the same breath they cried peter would look at them through his legs and then let us do what peter would do it is quite the most successful way of defying wolves and as one boy threw their legs the next moment is the long one but victory came quickly for as the boys advanced upon them in the terrible attitude the wolves dropped their tails and fled now nibs rose from the ground and the others thought that his staring eyes still saw the wolves but it was not wolves he saw I have seen a wonderfuler thing he cried as they gathered round him eagerly the white bird it is flying this way what kind of a bird do you think I don't know nibs said awestruck but it looks so weary and as it flies it moans poor wendy poor wendy I remember said slightly instantly there are birds called wendys see it comes cried curly pointing to wendy in the heavens wendy was now almost overhead and they could hear her plaintive cry but more distinct came the shrill voice of tinker bell the jealous fairy had now cast off all disguise of friendship and was darting at her victim from every direction pinching savagely each time she touched hello tink cried the wondering boys tink's reply rang out peter want you to shoot the wendy it was not in their nature to question when peter ordered let us do what peter wishes cried the simple boys quick bows and arrows all but toodles popped down their trees he had a bow and arrow with him and tink noted it and rubbed her little hands quick toodles quick she screamed peter will be so pleased toodles excitedly fitted the arrow to his bow out of the way tink he shouted and then he fired and wendy fluttered to the ground with an arrow in her breast end of chapter