The Pearl was three days out of port before anyone even knew she was there.
She was a small thing, stunted for her age, stick thin and scrawny. She wasn't given to crying, or seasickness, or, certainly, any lacking in courage. It was Cotton who discovered her, wedged into the shadows of the ship's hold. She put up a good fight that the tall mute bore stoically, mapped out in the rake of young nails across his cheek.
Will was on duty that afternoon, manning the wheel, and so it was to Will that Cotton brought their small stowaway. She was tucked underneath his arm and still struggling like a wild thing. When presented to Will she fell still, dangling from the other man's hands with a sullen, graceless sort of dignity.
The only thing she had to say for herself was "mew."
Will stared, dumbstruck, at Cotton. Cotton stared silently back at Will. The kitten stared at them both with open hostility. "You have a... cat?" Will finally asked. In response Cotton thrust the little thing forward, obviously trying to hand her over. Helplessly Will looked at Cotton's parrot, which was fluffed up twice his normal size and twitching his wings. If Will thought to receive sage advice, he was sorely mistaken.
The kitten, having lost her patience with the proceedings, launched herself directly at the parrot. The parrot in return fluttered to the top of Will's head uttering a long string of choice obscenities which caused Will to do a genuine double take at Cotton. The mute sailor simply shrugged as if to say, "I didn't teach him that." Then he busied himself with wrestling with a yeowling mass of spitting black fur.
It was in this state that the captain of the Black Pearl found them. "Oh grand! Charades!" Jack clapped his hands. "And I wasn't invited." The parrot said something fruity in return from the top of Will's head. Jack's eyes widened. "And twice to your mother!" he said stoutly. The kitten now dangled from one of Cotton's fists, growling low in her throat. The pirate was rather worse for wear, bleeding from several new gashes. Jack looked back and forth, tilted his head then slowly turned to Will. "Do I have to ask?"
"Apparently," Will said slowly, "Mr. Cotton has a cat."
Cotton frowned, then took matters into his own hands. In one swift move he retrieved his parrot while simultaneously dumping the kitten in Will's startled arms. Without looking back he stomped off the deck, squawked curses floating behind him.
"Strike that love," Jack smiled. "Apparently, you have a cat."
"A sailing vessel is no place for a cat!" Will protested, looking dubiously at the ball of black fur nosing about for better purchase.
Jack produced an apple from one of his pockets and bit into it thoughtfully. "S'not my idea."
"Well it's hardly my... what's it doing?"
The pirate tried to suppress a grin. "Think s'called kneadin."
Wide eyed, Will watched as the little thing rhythmically moved her paws back and forth across his arms, eyes half closed. When the low rumbling started his brow furrowed and he looked to Jack for an explanation.
Jack clapped Will on the shoulder. "Means she likes you, lad. Congratulations. You have a cat." He couldn't contain the low laugh this time as he wandered down the stairs.
"But... But..." Will looked down. The bundle of fur in question had drifted to sleep during the course of the conversation. She was still purring.
There was nothing to be done but find somewhere to put the small thing. Will was personally of the opinion that it would be just as well to toss her back into the hold where she had come from and hopefully forget about the whole sordid affair. Elizabeth, however, put a hasty stop to that. On seeing the small ball of fur she declared it to be "adorable". Will, seeing his chance, was all too agreeable to handing the sleeping kitten into Elizabeth's waiting hands.
"It's not to get rations from the crew," he warned sternly. "And I don't want it in the way. Or on the deck."
"Of course not," Elizabeth agreed, the words cooed in an alarming tone to the ball of fur in her arms instead of to Will himself. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"
"And it can't interfere with your duties!" Will added sharply.
"Don't worry, Will," Elizabeth assured him. "She'll be a perfect lady." She flashed him a bright smile. "Or a disreputable wench, as the case may be."
"Just make sure she - it - is!" Will told her. Elizabeth, to his great relief, took the kitten away and that was the last he had to think about her for the rest of the day.
Which did absolutely nothing to explain how or why he woke up the next morning to a small, warm body draped over the top of his head and the too loud rumble of a purr in his ear.
He rolled over to where Jack still slept soundly. The kitten mewed a small protest and nestled closer in Will's hair. "This is impossible..." The kitten mewed agreeably and twitched so that her tail draped down Will's forehead. Slowly, stealthily, Will reached up to dislodge his tiny visitor when suddenly the tail swished down over his nose. The response was immediate and violent. The sneeze could be heard two cabins distant.
Jack woke up like a shot, then looked over at the sheepish Will, holding the very content Kitten. "Comin down allergic?"
"I don't know what she's, it's, how... the door was closed." he finished helplessly. "Go away Kitten." With that he dropped her on the floor. When he turned around it was to Jack trying to unsuccessfully smother another grin. "What is it?"
"That the beast's name, then? Kitten?"
Will blinked. "Oh. I hadn't actually thought..." He leaned over and looked at Kitten, who blinked back with guileless green eyes. "What do you think?"
Jack seemed to ponder for a moment. "Well, it's descriptive enough. No one'll ever confuse it." He leaned in to kiss Will around a smile. "It's you, boy. Call 'er Kitten."
Climbing out of the bunk, Will nodded. "Right. Kitten." He looked around, but the little creature was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, he began to dress for the day. Then he yelped, leaping backwards, pinwheeling into Jack who broke his fall - barely.
"S'truth, love!" Jack shoved him back onto his feet. "Step on an urchin?"
"It... squished." Will pointed to the corner where his boots lay in a pile. The two exchanged a look then cautiously examined the suspicious mound. There neatly beheaded, lying atop Will's boot, lay the body of a very dead rat. Will was horrified.
Jack snickered. "May have to fight for your affections."
"What does that mean?"
"Got yourself a little girlfriend." Jack shook his head and finished dressing. "Good mouser though."
That phrase - "good mouser" - was to become the bane of Will's life in the coming days. A stern talk with Elizabeth proved fruitless; she had stowed the cat in her own bunk, gone about her duties, and that was the last she had seen of it. No one, including Jack, had any idea how the kitten had gotten into Jack's cabin. No one, in fact, seemed to know how she got anywhere; from one place to another, from tip to stern, she seemed to go wherever she liked. She was spotted in the holds, in the galley, in the bunks, on the deck, amongst the canons, and once even in the rigging, where a perturbed Cotton caught her stalking his parrot.
While she would accept tidbits from the crew - a habit that Will did his best to discourage - she was most often to be found in the holds, chasing the ship's rats. "Good mouser," Anamaria commented over supper one night. "Keeps the rats out of the stores." Will's only response had been a surly grunt and a rather abrupt finish to his own meal.
"Good luck to have a cat on board," Gibbs remarked another day, earning him a glare from his First Mate. "Cleans up the holds right proper. Good..."
"Mouser," Will finished with a growl, and stalked away.
Because the fact was, every morning, no matter how he had checked and double checked the contents of the room and the security of the door every night, he woke to the rumble of a purr in his ear. And a very dead, very chewed on, beheaded rat on his boots.
"She likes you, love," Jack chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Always knew you had a way with the women."
With the entirety of the crew, including Jack, seemingly set on mutiny - Kitten versus First Mate - Will found himself lacking recourse or support in his dilemma. In fact, the only one who seemed to sympathize at all was Cotton... and Cotton's beleaguered parrot, which had switched to an unending and colorful string of obscenities the likes of which any sailor would be proud from the moment Kitten had been first spotted. It was animal warfare which erupted any time the two were within reasonable hailing distance of each other, which seemed to be at least three times a day. Will was running out of ways to apologize and Cotton had taken to wearing a perpetual hangdog expression. Something had to be done.
After one particular violent episode Jack called Will aside. From his expression Will knew it was serious. It wasn't quite Captain to First Mate, but almost. Jack crossed his arms and simply looked at him. "I'm sorry," Will began helplessly. "I..."
"Can always toss 'er overboard. Solve the whole problem."
Will was horrified. "You can't do that! She's just a little thing. She'd drown!"
Jack grinned at him. "So you do like 'er then, hum?"
He was trapped and he knew it. Will slowly smiled back. "I could do without the rats."
"Told you. Sign of affection." Jack sighed. "Only one thing for it." He clapped Will on the shoulder.
"What's that?"
"Negotiation."
Will thought Jack was kidding. As he sat at the table in the galley, he thought for the hundredth time that he ought to know better. At one end sat Cotton with a very indignant parrot. He sat at the other end with Kitten, Jack behind him. Gibbs sat between them to negotiate terms. Only Jack Sparrow could have concocted something this insane, then talked them into going through with it.
Gibbs cleared his throat. "We're here to discuss cessation of hostilities between Parrot and Kitten." Immediately Kitten bared her fangs and hissed. In response Parrot rattled off a curse that left them all shaking their head. Gibbs translated it helpfully and Will felt his eyes widen.
"What language was that?" he finally asked.
"I believe it was Chinese."
Will stared at Parrot, then cleared his throat. "Continue, Mr. Gibbs."
"Right. These two parties have strong grievances beginning with, but not limited to... unprovoked stalking, chasing up the rigging, midnight flyby's, using tails as target practice," Kitten lashed hers indignantly and Will cleared his throat.
"Mr. Gibbs, perhaps we can conclude the grievances."
"Ah yes. What needs to be happenin is a meetin of the minds. A comin together, so to speak, so that both parties are satisfied that none 'as a thing to be worried about." He looked around the room. "Which frankly leaves me a bit mystified. Never before in the history of cats and birds has somethin like this been accomplished."
Jack let out a long suffering sigh. "Move aside." Gibbs gladly relinquished the center seat, allowing Jack to slide in with his customary grace and jingle. He threaded his fingers together, cracking his knuckles before getting down to business. "Look here. Things are like this, savvy?" He reached out his arm, drawing in the fluffy ball of dark fur who didn't resist as much as look intrigued. "Kitten is a good mouser. Good mousers are lucky on ships." He began stroking her head rhythmically and the low, rumbling purr was immediately heard throughout the room. "Keep your head down in storms, do as your told, stay out of mischief, make my Will happy, no reason you can't stay. However," he picked the little thing up and looked her square in the eye. "No more chasing the bird or I boot you overboard and that's a promise." He dumped her on the table where she shook herself thoroughly. Then she sat with her back to Jack and deliberately licked her shoulder at him. He shook his head. "Such language from a lady."
He turned to the parrot. "All right, Parrot." The bird whistled uncertainly. "There's a cat on board now. And you're pissed. But the vocab has got to change, savvy? You're a translator. It's a noble profession. Kitten'll leave you alone from now on, or you tell me and I'll give her the boot." Jack leaned down to beak level with the bird. "Things don't change, you fly to Jamaica."
The bird shifted one foot to the other. "Any port in a storm!"
Will looked at Jack in disbelief. Jack simply nodded in satisfaction when Cotton scooped up his parrot happily and lurched for the door, the two of them seemingly in deep conversation that only they could understand. "How...?"
Jack stood, stretched and smiled a little as he headed for the door. "Got to know these things when you're a captain, you know!" He was gone, leaving Will alone. Well not quite. Kitten walked gracefully up to him and delicately rubbed the side of her face against his cheek. The only thing she had to say for herself was "mew."
Will reached out to tickle her under the chin and was rewarded at once with a long, low rumble. "Looks like you're here to stay." He tail curled around her feet, as though to ask if there had ever been any doubt to that question. In spite of himself, Will smiled. "Well... you are a good mouser." That earned him a head bump and a louder purr. "Just try to stay out of trouble." The eyes that met his were as green as the tropics and wholly innocent. Then she leapt off the table and was gone, no doubt to teach the parrot how to curse in Arabic.
He stood up, feeling content, having learned one more thing about Jack. And anything, even dead rats at dawn, was worth that. Maybe the rats weren't so bad, at that...
end.