Disney makes all holiday wonderment possible. Dickens helped too.
This has not been beta'd. I'm not even a hundred percent on what a beta is. This is my Christmas card to all Sparrington fans, and you 'what's a Sparrington' lot, too. We know you are us, before we converted.
Caribbean Christmas Carol
for the wonderful LadyBush, who made me do this; and I thank her.
On the night before Christmas, Norrington retired home early from Fort Charles after a short ten hour work day. He was feeling quite out of sorts. He told himself it was something he had eaten. The truth was that he had planned to spend this Christmas as a married man with Elizabeth, his lovely, newly wed wife. An invitation to Christmas dinner with Elizabeth and Will at the Turner home was indeed a poor substitute.
He politely declined more than a week ago. Now he was regretting it but was far too proud and mannerly just to show up at the last minute. No, he would spend another Christmas alone in an empty house having given all the servants time off to spend with their families and friends. Being alone at Christmas was nothing new for James, of course. It had become his own personal holiday tradition.
When James entered his house, he was surprised to find that the temperature inside was far colder than the rather hot and humid Jamaican winter outside. He opened some windows to counter the devilishly frigid draft that seemed to follow him room to room. Letting in the outdoors did not make a noticeable change however. Puzzled he poured himself a large brandy and set about lighting a fire in the fireplace.
Two glasses and a roaring fire later, James was not feeling the slightest chill. That is until a ghost appeared walking out of the fire before him.
By all that was holy! It what ever -it- was, was the spitting image of Captain Jacob Marley, the commanding officer he had served under at Fort Charles before ascending to his own captaincy. The man had died of what some of the younger officers had joked was sheer boredom while sitting at the same desk that James now lived behind. The apparition before him was in full uniform. James did not understand the purpose of all the chains hanging off of him however. The likeness to Captain Marley really was remarkable! Still, one never knows what trickery the supernatural can conjure.
"What are you? Who are you?"
"I am a spirit James, or should I say, Commodore Norrington. Better to ask who I was."
"All right, who were you?"
"In life, I was Marley, your commanding officer."
"Captain Marley, sir, please do call me James. Forgive me for being blunt. You are dead, Captain. Why have you come here?"
"I came to warn you. See these chains? In life I forged them link by link. You now follow in my path. It is not too late for you, James."
"I don't understand."
"No you don't but you will. Expect three spirits to visit you. One will come tonight, one on the morrow night, one the night after. They will show you the things that you need to see in order to avoid my fate. Learn their lessons well, James. Make amends in this life before it is too late for you, too. My time on earth has ended. I must depart. Good luck to you, James. Can't tell you how proud I am that you made Commodore!"
"Thank you, sir. Captain Marley! I wanted to ask you-"
But it was too late; Marley stepped back into the fireplace and disappeared.
James paced a bit. He pinched himself twice. He poured another glass of brandy then set it aside untouched. If he were going to have to manage another visitation from the spirit world he wanted to do it somewhat sober.
He tried to imagine who the next spirit might have been in life. Would it be his own father? His dead boanthrope uncle that servants could not keep from grazing the lawn? Mr. Brown, Will's former master? He hoped it would not be Brown. He'd had a hard enough time being civil to that cruel, smelly, lazy, old drunkard while he was still living. How humiliating yet somehow fitting that the man drank himself to death while using an outhouse.
James was about to pick a book off the shelf to help pass the time when the room got distinctly colder.
"Evening to ya! Commodore Norrington, I presume?"
James turned in the direction of the voice. The spirit of a rather tall pirate wearing a large black hat stood, one hand on his hip, one resting on the back of the chair. Unlike Marley, this one looked completely solid, as real in appearance as anyone he had ever met.
"Good evening, pirate. Do I know you?"
"In life we never had the fortune of meeting. I do believe you will have heard of me, though. I be Captain Barbossa, formerly of the Black Pearl, at your service." The man swept his off hat and bowed formally and elegantly, transferring his hat to his other hand in the process. Where do pirates learn the manners of courtiers?
"Captain Barbossa?"
"Aye, very nice place ya've got here, Commodore. I do doubt you've come by your wealth from the Navy."
"Inheritance. Only son."
"Aye, I figured it weren't through underhanded means. Looks like I got my work cut out fer me."
"Why are you here, Captain?"
"For both of our mutual benefits, Commodore. I get to work off some of my, shall we say, overindulgences. You get a guide for Christmases Past, Present, and Future!"
"I was told to expect three spirits, a different one every night."
"Aye, that's usually how it works. I really do enjoy this sort of thing, however. Might say, I have a flair for it! I parleyed with the other two. We reached an accord of sorts, an agreement between ourselves. Nothing to concern you! I guarantee, you'll find me more pleasurable company than those other two."
"I suppose I will have to take your word for that?"
"Aye, I suppose you will! Brandy! May I?"
"Please, do help yourself."
James watched half expecting him to guzzle the brandy only to have it pool on the hardwood floor. Oddly enough, it disappeared the second Barbossa's hand met the glass.
"Thank you, Commodore. I do compliment your taste. That's as fine a brandy as ever crossed my lips; and believe me, before the curse, I tasted some mighty fine ones! Of course, I was always more partial to red wine. Don't suppose you have a bottle of wine that we could take with us?"
"I have a very nice French vintage, here."
Barbossa touched the unopened bottle. James watched as the level of wine in the bottle went down a half an inch. "Yes! Very nice indeed!"
"I can see why you enjoy this work."
"It does have it's little rewards, to be sure!"
"Tell me, Captain, why was one of the most decent, hard-working men I ever knew wearing chains, while you, the most evil and deadly pirate ever to terrorize the Caribbean, now walk freely wine-tasting and time-travelling?"
"Word to the wise, Commodore, the after-life ain't what ye read about in books. Different fer everybody, of course, but never what yer expectin'! Just like everything else, it really -is- what you make of it. Shall we?"
"I'll just get my coat."
"Ye won't be needing a coat, Commodore. Just take my hand and you'll feel no cold, no pain, not much of anything of the physical variety."
James looked suspiciously at the hand offered. Someone must have a sense of humor to send him a ghostly pirate. At least it wasn't one he had hanged. If this were inevitable best just get it over with as quickly as possible. "You don't drink blood? Do you?"
Barbossa laughed heartily and seemed to wipe a tear away. "I much prefer red wine, Commodore. You've my solemn word that I'll not be drinking but what's from a bottle."
"Pleased to hear it." James took a deep breath and took Barbossa's hand. Suddenly, James saw a blinding flash of light that seemed to consume the house around them. Now they were in a completely different place that was no less familiar. They were standing near the staircase in a large stately home. Fresh strung holly and mistletoe decked the landings, chandeliers, portrait frames, and banisters.
"This is my home! The home of my childhood! We are in England! Hide! We can not be seen here! I haven't been here for fourteen, no, fifteen years! How will I explain just showing up? How will I explain you?"
"Now, Commodore, don't go getting yerself all worked up into a tizzy. No one here can see us. We are merely observers, if you will. These are events of the past, your past. Think of them as memories, nothing more."
"It is so- real."
"It was real. It did happen."
"So, no one can hear us, either?"
"Nor touch us. We really don't exist here, Commodore. It'll be the same when I show you the present and the future. Works better that way! Easier for all concerned. Look sharp now. Here comes a lady I think you'll remember."
As he watched in utter amazement his mother, or a younger version of her, descended the steps. She wore a simple, dignified, olive green dress with a small gold brooch pinning the high collar. He had never noticed how lovely and graceful she was. She looked in her thirties which meant James would have been still a child.
"Am I here? In this house?"
"You were, yes. If I'm not mistaken, here you come now."
In through the door from the library walked a younger, shorter, stiffer version of himself, looking terribly serious for one so young. The boy was carrying more books than he looked able to lift and walked right through them.
"You look very nice Mother."
"James! You'd better hurry and dress for the Issingdale's Christmas party."
"I can not go. I need the time to study geography. As I told you, we sit for examinations the moment we set foot back from Christmas holiday."
"You haven't even had a proper Christmas holiday! You've been pouring over that geography book the entire time."
"No mother, I've not yet started revising for geography. I've only just finished my arithmetic assignments and my history thesis. I really must study, mother. You and father agreed that it is my first duty."
"Very well, James. We will make your apologies to the Issingdales. I know young Mary will be especially disappointed. I would not be a bit surprised if the party were all her idea and just an opportunity for seeing you again. She does miss you since you went away to school. The two of you were thick as thieves when you were little."
"Of course I would like to see Mary, but education must take precedence over social occasions. Perhaps if I can get far enough ahead, I may call on Mary before I leave."
"I will not mention it in case you do not find the time, James. You know that I am most proud of all your academic achievements. I do sometimes worry that you are missing all the rest of your life."
"I play sport at school, too, mother. I do tear my nose out of books occasionally. I simply can not afford to do poorly. Geography is terribly important in the Navy. You do want we to know where my ship is?"
"James, you were born knowing where your ship is. When you were three you informed me that you wanted to be an admiral, or was it a pirate? No, it was an admiral when you were three. When you were six you preferred piracy."
"Even pirates need to know their geography. I hope you and Father enjoy the party."
A small, young, terribly serious James books in hand climbed the stairs to his room. Barbossa took Commodore James by the hand again. There was another brilliant flash. James was standing alone again by the fireplace without a sign of Barbossa or his bottle of wine.
James eyed at the empty brandy snifter Barbossa had drank from, got out another clean one, and poured a small glass, just a few sips to sit with with by the fire. James was tired but did not want to go to bed yet. It had been years since he had thought about Mary Issingdale. She would be married now with children no doubt. He wondered if she still liked licorice and still had dimples when she smiled. He had not found the time to call on her that Christmas. He had never found the time to see her again, as a matter of fact. Eventually he could not find the time to spend Christmas with his parents. Now he can barely find the time to send Christmas greetings home to his mother.
Is that of what Marley's chain is made? Missed opportunities for simple happiness? Is it duty he wear clinking around him? At some point James fell asleep glass in hand. It fell to the floor but did not break when Barbossa tapped him on the shoulder.
"Ye must have been mighty tired, Commodore. You slept right through Christmas!"
"Did I?"
"Aye, it be just after midnight. Happy Boxin' Day to ya!"
"I have never slept through Christmas before."
"From what I've seen ya might as well have. There were a heap of other past Christmases; but all were just variations on a theme. You seem clever enough not ta have to get beaten over the head with more of the same. But that's all in the past! Let bygones, be bygones! Are you curious at all about where we'll be headed tonight?"
"Not really. Let us go. Show me what you must."
"Commodore, another bottle of wine would not go amiss."
"The last one certainly did."
"Let it be a lesson. For mortals there's really nothin' handier than a corkscrew."
"Will brandy do? Mind, I want this decanter returned."
"On my honor."
"On your honor as a mutineer?"
"As a fellow wine lover then!"
"I suppose that will have to do."
James held out his hand. Barbossa took it.
When the blinding light receded they were inside the Turner home. Happily, both of the Turners were properly attired and suitably engaged. Elizabeth was mending burn marks on William's shirts. William was sketching swords for his many upcoming commissions, no doubt.
"I can't help it Will. I feel so guilty for how I treated James. If only he could put the past behind him and truly forgive me. How can I explain to him that I never realized what a fine man he was until the day Jack escaped. I never thought of him as anything but a uniform, until then, even though I had agreed to marry him. Isn't it horrible!"
"Elizabeth, I've never had anything but the highest esteem for you. I understand why you did what you did. I was out of my mind when you were in danger. I took up with Jack and stole a ship. I understand how one can act out of character while caught up in extreme circumstances. I am in no position to judge you harshly. That said, I do not understand how you failed to have regard for the Commodore. Before you were kidnapped, I could never have imagined that you would prefer me to him. I still have difficulty understanding how you could look beyond the simple clothing of a blacksmith to see me but could not see beyond a fine Naval uniform to see him."
"Will, the pain I caused James, the loss of his friendship which I never even realized I valued, those are my only regrets in marrying you. You do know that?"
"I know, but thank you for saying it. I will move heaven and earth never to give you more reasons for regretting our wedding, my love."
There eyes met both of them smiling, both looking at the same time heavy of heart.
"I had so hoped that James would make an appearance despite the declined invitation. If he can't set aside our differences on Christmas, he must really hate me, Will."
"You hurt him. Neither of us know that kind of hurt. We can only hope that his hurt will heal. Perhaps next year James -will- share Christmas dinner with us, or perhaps the year after. If we don't give up asking him there is always the chance that he might forgive us one day."
"I wouldn't know what to do myself."
"What do you mean?"
"Will, if we could all be friends, my happiness would be complete."
"It might be nice if the rest of Port Royal didn't treat us like pariahs."
"The rest of Port Royal can go jump off the battlements wearing corsets."
"Elizabeth!"
"You know I didn't mean that. I meant lead weights."
"What no manacles and leg irons?"
"Of course! You could use the business!"
"That I could. I can't believe how my commissions declined after Mr. Brown died. How sad people preferred his reputation as a cut-corner drunk to mine as the pirate who stole the governor's daughter."
"You and I both know, Will, that it is my reputation that sours your trade. I do not think the poison pen who wrote, 'let the faithless hussy starve' was talking about you."
"That was only one note."
"Yes, the rest were far less kind. Even my father received some of those."
Barbossa touched his shoulder. After the flash, James was alone next to his own cold hearth again. His crystal decanter was nowhere to be found. He was so bone tired that he could hardly stand. Regardless of Barbossa's promises, James was starting to suspect the ghostly pirate -was- drinking his blood or somehow sucking away his energy. He collapsed into his chair only meaning to rest a moment before climbing the stairs to sleep in his bed.
Suddenly, Barbossa tapped him on the shoulder again, drawing even more blood, no doubt. James opened his eyes. It was not Barbossa this time. This time it was Captain Jack Sparrow.
"Jack! I had no idea you were dead!"
"Am I?" Jack stared at his arm and flexed his hand a bit.
"You are a most pleasant change from Barbossa."
"Barbossa? You feelin' all right, mate?"
"No. I haven't been feeling myself since the day before Christmas. I believe that he has been drinking my blood."
"Your blood?"
"Or stamina or something. I do not understand how it all works."
"I see," said Jack though the expression on his face clearly said exactly the opposite, not that Norrington noticed.
"What would you like to drink?"
"To drink?"
"You don't drink blood, too? Do you?"
"No. Rum, mostly."
"You are in luck. Would you like a glass? Do you prefer drinking with your finger?"
"My finger?"
"You too! I have to tell you, Jack, that really disturbs me."
"Sorry. Commodore, aren't you going to threaten me, or hit me with a chair, or at least ask me what I'm doing in your house and demand that I leave?"
"Why? I am glad to see you, Jack. I'm happy that you are here! I do not care why, or how. Just show me everything you want me to see."
"Everything?"
"Everything! Anything you'd like. I'm looking forward to it. I'll get your rum."
Jack stood there a moment with a very confused look on his face, then shrugged and started to undress.
James came back from his liquor cabinet to find Jack completely nude.
"Is this what you wanted to me to see?"
"Aye James, Happy Christmas."
James smiled and handed Jack the bottle of rum.
"Happy Christmas, Jack. I'm so sorry it's late. I'm sorry I'm late. I'm really very sorry that you are late- the late Captain Jack Sparrow! I never wanted you to die. I was happy watching you escape when you fell over the wall. You made the whole world a more interesting place."
"Why James, that's the most lovely thing anyone has ever said to me."
"I mean it quite sincerely, Captain. I'm afraid that I may not understand your message, though. I understood about Mary and Elizabeth. You are showing me my future? Are you not?"
"Well, yes James. One possible future, if you'll have me?"
"May I touch you?"
"Of course!"
James reached out then pulled his hand back. "It won't be just a flash; then we both end up somewhere else?"
"Not if you don't want it that way, love."
"And have I your word of honor that you will not drink my blood?"
"Not even if you wanted me to drink it, James."
James took Jack into his arms, then laughed and started rocking him back and forth. "You feel so solid, so warm, so real!"
Norrington's enthusiasm and childlike wonder were infectious. "So do you, James."
"Thank you! Thank you for this! Thank you for everything. I don't believe I've ever been happier than I am right now, at this moment."
James pulled away holding Jack by the shoulders looking into his eyes and seeing all his Christmases future. "I wish it were Christmas, Jack."
Jack smiled. "Is that all that it would take? To make you happier than the happiest you've ever been, James?"
James laughed. "Yes, that would certainly do it."
Jack took a deep breath, concentrated very hard, and then snapped his fingers. "It's Christmas day, James."
"Truly? You can do that?"
"Not all the time, love. Possibly just today in fact."
Tears streamed down James' cheeks. He hugged Jack to him and kissed his face repeatedly. The kisses deepened when James' lips found Jack's mouth. Somehow, Norrington's slept in uniform got tossed into the ashes in the fireplace. Norrington kissed Jack's body saying, thank you, thank you, after every kiss. Later, when Jack made love to James (there really are no other words for it,) Norrington thanked him for every caress, every kiss, every thrust. It was, all in all, the finest Christmas present that Jack had received. Afterward, they continued kissing, petting, and holding each other under the Commodore's canope on the Commodore's vast feather bed.
"James love, I have to go to Lizzie's tonight for Christmas dinner. I did promise her. You see?"
"May I go with you, as your guest? Please Jack? It would mean so much to me."
"You'd go? As my guest? To Lizzie's? With me?"
"If you'll let me."
"Would you not be ashamed to be seen with me?"
"I am not at all ashamed. I love you. Oh goodness, we need presents."
"Presence?"
"You would know the sorts of things that Lizzie and Will might like. Do you think there is anything in the house that would do?"
The next half hour was most unusual for Jack as he and Norrington tore up Norrington's house together, plundering for suitable Christmas gift trinkets- wine, preserves, spices, fresh fruit, assorted silver, linen and other finery. When that was done, Norrington arranged everything attractively in a large basket tied with a bow. They then washed, dressed, and walked arm in arm through the streets of Port Royal wishing every surprised, shocked, scared, speechless, and scandalized soul they came across the happiest of Christmases.
Norrington knocked. Will opened the door. Norrington pulled him into a hearty hug. "A Merry Christmas to you, Will!"
"Um, Commodore." Suddenly Will hugged Norrington back in what looked to be some sort of wrestling hold. "Jack! Run!"
"William, you can let go of James now. He is here as my guest."
When Norrington went inside to hug Elizabeth and Weatherby, Jack gave Will the basket. Will gave Jack the 'what have you done to the Commodore!' look. Jack only shrugged, looking so innocent, that he did not appear like he was trying to look innocent- not that Will had ever been all that good at telling the difference. Will rolled his eyes and pulled Jack inside.
Dinner was wonderful. Norrington was certain that he had never tasted food quite so delicious as Elizabeth's cooking (and it was, but only to Norrington.) After all the usual polite chatter, Elizabeth said, "James, it came as quite a shock to see you and Jack arrive together. I am so happy that we can all set aside our differences, at least at Christmas, no matter what may happen throughout the rest of the year."
James patted his mouth with his napkin and lifted his wine. "May I propose a toast? May all our differences forever be forgotten. May the spirit of this Christmas live on in all of us for the rest of our lives."
Everyone took a breath, sighed, and drank deeply. No one drank with fingers.
After dinner, James took Elizabeth aside. "Elizabeth, I wanted you to be the first to hear it from me. I've decided that Jack is my future and my greatest happiness."
Elizabeth covered her mouth and gasped, wide eyed and looking in danger of falling over for a moment. How fortunate that she had sworn off corsets. "Oh, James! I'm so happy!" She hugged him so fiercely that both Jack and Will might have gotten jealous had they noticed. Instead, Will was twisting Jack's arm trying to get him to confess to drugging Norrington, only to get kneed in the groin so hard that Will saw the blinding light that the Commodore had been going on and on about all night.
After that Christmas, everything changed in Port Royal. James decided to do what little he could to help return Will's smithy to profitability. Considering that he commissioned swords for His Majesty's entire Naval presence in the Caribbean, it is not hard to imagine that James helped out quite a bit. Jack had to change his name for legal reasons so that he could become an official privateer, (well, at least on the books,) and later Weatherby's Lieutenant Governor. Like Will, Weatherby blamed what ever had happened to the Commodore on Jack. He decided anyone who could accomplish that, deserved a career in politics as well as a famous rum named after him.
The nastier side of Port Royal, those who had hounded Elizabeth, now had something else even more shocking to gossip and write vicious notes about. Surprising how effectively such silliness can be countered when the governor, the military, and a privateer fleet all armed with Turner blades, are on your side. Oh, there was a wee bit of talk about court-martial, hanging, and the like; but everyone, who was in the position to do so, had known James for years and liked him much better as a sodomite.
No one changed more than James Norrington. True to his word, the spirit or spirits of that Christmas lived inside of him all the rest of his days. He was warm, wonderful, ever thoughtful to his friends and to perfect strangers too. He and Jack were often seen skipping, snuggling on the beach, and having make-believe snowball fights even in the middle of July.
…thanks for reading. Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night…