Their prison, on board the dilapidated Jolly Roger, was bare of all furniture. A tiny mullioned porthole with thick unbreakable glass let in a small amount of light. ‘We’ll never get out of here,’ whispered Amy, looking round in despair. ‘What’re we going to do, Jack?’ Jukes and Noddler had thrown Peter and the children into the room, shut the heavy wooden door and locked it. They slid huge iron bolts into place and left the children to contemplate their fate. There seemed no hope. No one knew they were there. No one would ever find them. ‘I don’t know. I can’t think of anything,’ said Jack. He turned on Peter. ‘This is all your fault. If you hadn’t brought us here, we wouldn’t be in this mess.’ ‘Jack’s right!’ said Shelley. ‘You’ve got to do something, Peter. You’ve got to get us out of here.’ ‘Impossible!’ said Peter, ‘There’s nothing I can do!’ ‘That’s just great!’ said Jack. ‘Don’t take any responsibility. How could it be your fault?’ Amy began to sob quietly and Shelley put her arm round her.
