Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens | Page 9

of the building of it he slept by
its side, and often woke up to say sweet things to it, and after it was
lined with mud and the mud had dried he always slept in it. He sleeps
in his nest still, and has a fascinating way of curling round in it, for it is
just large enough to hold him comfortably when he curls round like a
kitten. It is brown inside, of course, but outside it is mostly green, being
woven of grass and twigs, and when these wither or snap the walls are
thatched afresh. There are also a few feathers here and there, which
came off the thrushes while they were building.
The other birds were extremely jealous and said that the boat would not
balance on the water, but it lay most beautifully steady; they said the
water would come into it, but no water came into it. Next they said that
Peter had no oars, and this caused the thrushes to look at each other in
dismay, but Peter replied that he had no need of oars, for he had a sail,
and with such a proud, happy face he produced a sail which he had
fashioned out of this night-gown, and though it was still rather like a
night-gown it made a lovely sail. And that night, the moon being full,
and all the birds asleep, he did enter his coracle (as Master Francis

Pretty would have said) and depart out of the island. And first, he knew
not why, he looked upward, with his hands clasped, and from that
moment his eyes were pinned to the west.
He had promised the thrushes to begin by making short voyages, with
them to his guides, but far away he saw the Kensington Gardens
beckoning to him beneath the bridge, and he could not wait. His face
was flushed, but he never looked back; there was an exultation in his
little breast that drove out fear. Was Peter the least gallant of the
English mariners who have sailed westward to meet the Unknown?
At first, his boat turned round and round, and he was driven back to the
place of his starting, whereupon he shortened sail, by removing one of
the sleeves, and was forthwith carried backward by a contrary breeze,
to his no small peril. He now let go the sail, with the result that he was
drifted toward the far shore, where are black shadows he knew not the
dangers of, but suspected them, and so once more hoisted his
night-gown and went roomer of the shadows until he caught a
favouring wind, which bore him westward, but at so great a speed that
he was like to be broke against the bridge. Which, having avoided, he
passed under the bridge and came, to his great rejoicing, within full
sight of the delectable Gardens. But having tried to cast anchor, which
was a stone at the end of a piece of the kite-string, he found no bottom,
and was fain to hold off, seeking for moorage, and, feeling his way, he
buffeted against a sunken reef that cast him overboard by the greatness
of the shock, and he was near to being drowned, but clambered back
into the vessel. There now arose a mighty storm, accompanied by
roaring of waters, such as he had never heard the like, and he was
tossed this way and that, and his hands so numbed with the cold that he
could not close them. Having escaped the danger of which, he was
mercifully carried into a small bay, where his boat rode at peace.
Nevertheless, he was not yet in safety; for, on pretending to disembark,
he found a multitude of small people drawn up on the shore to contest
his landing; and shouting shrilly to him to be off, for it was long past
Lock-out Time. This, with much brandishing of their holly-leaves, and
also a company of them carried an arrow which some boy had left in

the Gardens, and this they were prepared to use as a battering-ram.
Then Peter, who knew them for the fairies, called out that he was not an
ordinary human and had no desire to do them displeasure, but to be
their friend, nevertheless, having found a jolly harbour, he was in no
temper to draw off there-from, and he warned them if they sought to
mischief him to stand to their harms.
So saying; he boldly leapt ashore, and they gathered around him with
intent to slay him, but there then arose a great cry among the women,
and it was because they had now observed that his sail was a baby's
night-gown. Whereupon, they straightway loved him, and grieved that
their laps were too small, the which I