"To die will be an awfully big adventure"-J.M. Barrie

At first Fox didn't feel anything, his disbelief as to what had just happened to him quickly turned to outright shock. A sharp, cold feeling arose in his stomach which then quickly turned into a fire of agony. He looked down at himself and saw the cause of his pain: the steel of a pirate's sword had pierced his midriff. He looked up at Jimmy and the pirate who had stabbed him in terrified surprise. Then the full horror of what was happening to him became clear, he was going to die! He tried to scream but all that he managed to do was to groan and whimper in a weak voice.

He had put himself in this position. He had followed Peter onto the pirate ship when he had gone in search of Jimmy. Fox couldn't let his friend go up there by himself; he had to stick with him, after all Peter was like a younger brother to him.

On the ship he had managed to knock a pirate down to prevent Peter from being shot and then Jimmy hustled him away to what he thought was going to be safety. That was when he was stabbed and now he sat on the stern of the ship, about to teeter over the edge.

This couldn't be happening. It was impossible. It had to be a dream, or rather, a nightmare. Everything that had happened since Harbottle's Antiques couldn't be real. It just couldn't. Weird crocs, spooky roots, pirates, and swarms of flying beasties, it all had to be a nightmare. Any minute now he'd wake up in his bed at the Whitechapel Fencing Academy and everything would be normal.

But what if it wasn't? What if this wasn't a nightmare? What if it was real? If it was then he was dying and there was nothing that he could do about it.

Two days ago he and the crew had narrowly escaped from a pair of policemen after a job on some upper class gentlemen. That night he had sat up on the roof of the academy with Peter eating licorice and talking about the future. Bookkeeping and accounting, that's what he'd do with his life. He'd be an accountant just like his uncle. He knew he couldn't be a pickpocket forever. He'd take up accounting and maybe find a lass like his uncle's wife, Brenda Fitzwilliam, oh beautiful Brenda Fitzwilliam.

He had raised his hand to support Peter in taking on the job at Harbottle's. He smacked the guard unconscious with a cricket bat and then walked into the treasure trove store with his mates. Everything had been fine until Jimmy found the orb. Because of this turn of events he and the crew were trapped here, wherever here was, and now he was going to die.

He felt his strength drain from him as the sword was yanked out of his gut. He groaned once more and fell back. Down he fell, plunging into the water below, its cold embrace covering him. His last thought was of Peter. He hoped his friend wouldn't blame himself for what had happened.