If it weren’t for the impending party and the preparations, he felt he would have gone quite mad, his mind filled with the sorrowful calls of the Lost Boys’ mothers, and the thought of his own mother grieving for the loss of James and his father. Smee did his best to keep James’s mind from his troubles by coming to him for this or that when making ready for the party, and James appreciated it, even when it was clear Smee was just trying to distract him. As much as James missed Blackbeard, he was happy to have Smee at his side. But that is where Smee had always been, ever there to support him, since he was a little boy, like a father. Always there to make him laugh, or listen to one of his stories, or share something interesting he had read, and James loved him for it.

As the days passed, James felt himself growing more fearful. His mind was invaded by the numerous ways his plan could go wrong, and he worried he had gone about all of this the wrong way. James couldn’t remember ever feeling so fearful, and decided to take to his cabin and sit in the quiet and try to clear his mind.

“Master James, it’s not like you to worry like this.” Smee was standing in his doorway with a cup of tea. The steam was swirling from the cup like a bubbling witches’ brew, bringing Circe to mind. She was often on his mind; he feared everything she had said was true. “Your plans always work, James. You’re the smartest person I know. I’m sure you’ve thought it all out, and it will go just as you like.”

James knew Smee was just trying to make him feel better.

“You said you thought it was a bad plan, and I’m starting to think so, too. I can’t account for this terrible feeling of fear that has been washing over me. It’s all-consuming, Mr. Smee; I don’t know what to do.”