19 Peter Pan - Read By Stephanie Poppins

Peter Pan, written by J.M. Barrie, is a classic children's novel first published in the early 20th century. The story revolves around the beloved character Peter Pan and follows his adventures in the fantastical Neverland, along with a young girl named Wendy Darling and her brothers, John and Michael.

In this episode, here comes the crocodile.

This story is adapted for radio by Stephanie Poppins at Neworld Books.

Transcript

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

Your go-to podcast that offers you a calm and relaxing transition into a great night's sleep.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now,

And nowhere you need to go.

Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you and let all the worries of the day drift away.

This is your time and your space.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

There is nothing you need to be doing now,

And nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

Chapter 14 The Pirate Ship One green light squinting over Kidd's Creek,

Which is near the mouth of the Pirate River marked where the brig,

The Jolly Ridger,

Lay low in the water,

A rakish-looking craft fouled the hull,

Every beam in her detestable-like ground strewn with mangled feathers.

She was the cannibal of the seas,

And scarce needed that watchful eye,

For she floated immune in the horror of her name.

She was wrapped in the blanket of night,

Through which no sound from her could have reached the shore.

There was little sound and none agreeable save the whirr of the ship's sewing machine,

In which Smee sat ever industrious and obliging.

I know not why he was so infinitely pathetic,

Unless it were because he was so pathetically unaware of it.

But even strong men had to turn hastily from looking at him,

And more than once on summer evenings he touched the fount of Hook's tears and made it flow.

Of this,

As almost everything else,

Smee was quite unconscious.

Hook trod the deck in thought.

Oh man,

Unfathomable!

It was his hour of triumph.

Peter had been removed forever from his path,

And all the other boys were on the brig about to walk the plank.

It was his grimmest deed since the days when he'd brought barbecue to heel,

And knowing as we do how vain a tabernacle is man,

Could we be surprised he had now paced the deck unsteadily,

Bellied out by the winds of his success?

But there was no elation in his gait,

Which kept pace with the action of his sombre mind.

Hook was profoundly dejected.

He was often like this when communing with himself.

It was because he was so terribly alone.

This inscrutable man never felt more than alone when surrounded by his dogs.

They were socially so inferior.

Hook was not even his true name.

To reveal who he really was would,

Even at this date,

Set the country in a blaze.

But as those who read Between the Lines must already have guessed,

He had been at a famous public school,

And its traditions still clung to him like garments.

Thus it was offensive to him even now,

To board a ship in the same dress in which he grappled her,

And he still adhered in his walk to the school's distinguished slouch.

But above all he retained the passion for good form.

From far within him he heard a creaking as of rusty portals,

And through them came a stern tap-tap-tap,

Like hammering in the night.

Have you been good form today?

Was their eternal question.

Feign that glittering bauble,

It is mine,

He cried.

There came to him a presentiment of his early dissolution.

It was as if Peter's terrible oath had boarded the ship.

Hook felt a gloomy desire to make his dying speech,

Lest presently there should be no time for it.

Better for Hook,

He cried,

If he had less ambition.

It was in his darkest hours only he referred to himself in the third person.

No little children to love me.

Strange that he should think of this,

Which had never troubled him before.

Perhaps the sewing machine brought it to his mind.

For long he muttered to himself,

Staring at Smee,

Who was hemming placidly under the conviction that all children feared him.

Feared him?

Feared Smee?

There was not a child on board the brig that night who did not already love Smee.

He had said horrible things to them and hit them with the palm of his hand,

Because he couldn't hit with his fist,

But they had only clung to him the more.

Michael had even tried on his spectacles.

To tell poor Smee they thought him lovable.

Hook itched to do it,

But it seemed too brutal.

Instead he resolved this mystery in his mind.

Why do they find Smee lovable?

He pursued the problem like the sleuth hound that he was.

If Smee was lovable,

What was it that made him so?

Good form?

Had the bosun good form without knowing it?

That is the best form of all.

With a cry of rage he raised his iron hand over Smee's head,

But he did not tear.

What arrested him was this reflection.

To claw a man because he is good form,

What would that be?

Bad form.

Are all the children chained so they cannot fly away,

He called.

Aye,

Aye,

Then hoist them up.

The wretched prisoners were dragged from the hold,

All except Wendy,

And ranged in line in front of him.

For a time Hook seemed unconscious of their presence.

He was humming,

Not unmelodiously,

Snatches of a rude song,

And fingering a pack of cards.

Ever and anon,

The light from his cigar gave a touch of colour to his face.

Now then,

Bullies,

He said briskly,

Six of you walk the plank tonight,

But I have room for two cabin boys.

Which of you is it to be?

Tootles replied,

I don't think my mother would like me to be a pirate.

Would your mother like you to be a pirate,

Slightly?

Slightly said mournfully,

I don't think so,

As if he wished things had been otherwise.

Would your mother like you to be a pirate,

Twin?

I don't think so,

Said the first Twin.

Nibs would stow this gab,

Roared Hook.

You boy,

He said,

Addressing John,

You look as if you'd had a little pluck in you.

Did you ever want to be a pirate?

Now John had sometimes experienced this hankering at maths prep,

And he was struck by Hook's picking him out.

I once thought of calling myself Red-Handed Jack,

And a good name too.

We'll call you that here if you join.

What do you think,

Michael?

What would you call me if I join?

Blackbeard Joe.

Michael was impressed.

What do you think,

John?

He wanted John to decide,

And John wanted him to decide.

Shall we be respectful subjects of the King?

John inquired.

If you came with me,

You'd have to say,

Down with the King.

Then I refuse,

Cried John,

Banging the barrel in front of Hook.

And I refuse,

Cried Michael.

Rule Britannia,

Squeaked Curly.

The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth,

And Hook roared,

That seals your dome.

Bring up their mother,

Get the plank ready.

They were only boys,

And they went white as they saw Dukes preparing the fatal plank,

But they tried to look brave when Wendy was brought up.

No words of mine can tell you how Wendy despised those pirates.

To the boys there was at least some glamour in the pirate calling,

But all that she saw was that the ship had not been scrubbed for years.

So,

My beauty,

Said Hook,

As he spoke in syrup,

You are to see your children walk the plank.

Are they to die?

Asked Wendy with a look of such frightful contempt.

They are,

He snarled.

What are a mother's last words to her children?

These are my last words,

Dear boys,

Said Wendy firmly.

I feel I have a message to you from your real mothers,

And it's this.

We hope our sons will die like English gentlemen.

Even the pirates were awed,

And Tootles cried out hysterically,

I'm going to do what my mother hopes.

What are you going to do,

Nibs?

What my mother hopes.

What do you do,

Twin?

What my mother hopes.

John,

What.

.

.

But Hook had found his voice again.

Tie her up,

He shouted.

It was Smee who tied Wendy to the mast.

See here,

Honey,

He whispered,

I'll save you if you promise to be my mother.

But not even for Smee would Wendy make such a promise.

I would almost rather have no children at all,

She said disdainfully.

It is sad to know that not a boy was looking at her as Smee tied her to the mast.

The eyes of all were on the plank.

This was the last little walk they were about to take.

They were no longer able to hope they would walk it manfully.

The capacity to think had gone from them.

They could only stare and shiver.

Hook smiled on them with his teeth closed and took a step towards Wendy.

His intention was to turn her face so she should see the boys walking the plank one by one.

But he never reached her.

He never heard the cry of anguish he hoped to wring from her.

He heard something else instead.

It was the terrible tick-tick of the crocodile.

They all heard it.

Pirates,

Boys,

Wendy and immediately every head was blown in one direction.

Not to the water,

But towards Hook.

All knew what was about to happen.

Very frightful it was to see the change that came over him.

It was as if he'd been clipped at every joint.

He fell into a little heap.

Hide me,

Cried Hook hoarsely.

So they gathered round him,

All eyes averted from the thing that was coming aboard.

They had no thought of fighting it.

It was fate.

Only when Hook was hidden from them did Curiosity loosen the limbs of the boys so they could rush to the ship's side to see the crocodile climbing it.

Then they got the strangest surprise of the night of nights.

It was no crocodile that was coming to their aid.

It was Peter.

He signed to them not to give vent to any cry of admiration and he went on ticking.

Reviews

Thanks Stephanie, I listened to this whilst on a walk. Great company 👌🏼 👍🏼 😘🤗🐈‍⬛🐆🪷