ked Hook.

"There is my hand on it," they both said.

"And there is my hook. Swear."

They all swore. By this time they were on the rock, and suddenly Hook
remembered Tiger Lily.

"Where is the redskin?" he demanded abruptly.

He had a playful humour at moments, and they thought this was one of the
moments.

"That is all right, captain," Smee answered complacently; "we let her
go."

"Let her go!" cried Hook.

"'Twas your own orders," the bo'sun faltered.

"You called over the water to us to let her go," said Starkey.

"Brimstone and gall," thundered Hook, "what cozening [cheating] is
going on here!" His face had gone black with rage, but he saw that they
believed their words, and he was startled. "Lads," he said, shaking a
little, "I gave no such order."

"It is passing queer," Smee said, and they all fidgeted uncomfortably.
Hook raised his voice, but there was a quiver in it.

"Spirit that haunts this dark lagoon to-night," he cried, "dost hear
me?"

Of course Peter should have kept quiet, but of course he did not. He
immediately answered in Hook's voice:

"Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs, I hear you."

In that supreme moment Hook did not blanch, even at the gills, but Smee
and Starkey clung to each other in terror.

"Who are you, stranger? Speak!" Hook demanded.

"I am James Hook," replied the voice, "captain of the JOLLY ROGER."

"You are not; you are not," Hook cried hoarsely.

"Brimstone and gall," the voice retorted, "say that again, and I'll cast
anchor in you."

Hook tried a more ingratiating manner. "If you are Hook," he said almost
humbly, "come tell me, who am I?"

"A codfish," replied the voice, "only a codfish."

"A codfish!" Hook echoed blankly, and it was then, but not till then,
that his proud spirit broke. He saw his men draw back from him.

"Have we been captained all this time by a codfish!" they muttered. "It
is lowering to our pride."

They were his dogs snapping at him, but, tragic figure though he had
become, he scarcely heeded them. Against such fearful evidence it was
not their belief in him that he needed, it was his own. He felt his ego
slipping from him. "Don't desert me, bully," he whispered hoarsely to
it.

In his dark nature there was a touch of the feminine, as in all the
great pirates, and it sometimes gave him intuitions. Suddenly he tried
the guessing game.

"Hook," he called, "have you another voice?"

Now Peter could never resist a game, and he answe