Disclaimer: An undeserving rat owns everything but the cabin boy.
Warnings: Mild innuendo. Reckless butchering of timelines, sea tales, and folklore.
How the Sea Serpent Came to Be
The Black Pearl rocked quietly over the waves, its canvas a darker shadow against the moon-bright sky. Black water whispered and chuckled as it slipped over keel and hull and the ship dipped and creaked in reply. Captain Jack Sparrow stood quietly at the quarterdeck rail, hands clasped behind him, eyes resting on wet shadows and glittering ripples, listening dreamily to the tales and laughter of the sailors gathered in the shelter of the lanterns before the mast.
Tearlach told of the crew of the Alecton, who had fought bravely against the kraken, a fearsome creature eighteen feet in length, with pale tentacles that could pull a sailor from the deck itself and drag him into the salty deep. The captain and crew had fired cannon and thrown harpoons into its jellied mass, until the giant was killed and brought on board. But the stench it produced as it rotted was so great that they had to jettison the corpse before it could be brought to land to prove their story.
Shuddering slightly at a change in the soft, warm wind, the Pearl protectively cradled her crew, a tiny island of light and movement encircled by the unending dark space of water and sky. With the lamplight flickering mysteriously across her proud face, Anamaria spoke next, recounting a story she had heard with her own ears from Captain Hope of the H.M.S. Fly. While sailing in the clear waters of the Gulf of California, he had seen, swimming below the hull, a fifty-foot sea animal with the head and body of an enormous alligator, but with a neck longer than any alligator had a right to, and flippers instead of feet. Surfacing, the monster had passed by the ship so closely that, if it had been a man, they could have exchanged greetings without shouting.
As she finished, she passed a bottle of rum to Gibbs, who was sitting on a barrel to her right. After taking a long swing and passing the bottle on, Gibbs wiped his mouth and cleared his throat.
"Aye, the sea be full of monsters. There be beasts below that can sink a ship afore a man can wink an eye, creatures the very sight o' which bring bad luck—be they sea monks o' squids, o' the terrible sea serpent. Any o' you dogs heard the tale of how the sea serpent came to be?"
Jack glanced over and down at Gibbs, flashing a gold-toned grin. Gibbs was squinting seriously at their young cabin boy, whose dirty face looked half scared and half fascinated, as he sat with his arms around his knees on the deck. The silver light running along the rigging and the silent solitude of a ship at sea surrounded the storyteller with a hushed expectancy, and the cabin boy and the rest of the crew encouraged Gibbs to go on.
"Well, there was this sailor, see? Young, he were, and handsome t'boot, with large dark eyes and white teeth, an' the ladies liked him fine. He liked them too, with a lass in every port and mebbe two or three. And he docked in all the ports there were, he did." Duncan snickered, then caught Anamaria's frown and covered it with a cough. Gibbs continued with a grin.
"His mates would listen to him brag, telling o' the women he'd had and the things he'd done an' he fancied himself near irresistible to th' fairer sex, like. Seemed as if they would lie down fer him, whether they be high born ladies or maids or whores, and he grew vain as any peacock.
"So, came a day when his mates got tired o' hearin' him boast an' brag, and they played him a mean trick. When it came time fer the crew to take leave o' their ship, they put him off on an island without much 'cept a spring o' fresh water and a palm tree or two. They left him food and rum, laughed and told him they'd come back when the ship set sail again—and this time, they'd be the ones tellin' tales o' pretty and willin' women, because there weren't going to be no lady for him, all alone there."
Leaning moodily over the rail, Jack stared into the night, smelling salt and wet wood and feeling the Pearl move beneath his feet as the helmsman steadied the wheel. But in Jack's imagination he saw a tiny island in the sun, lonely and silent except for the sly mutter of the surf.
"This handsome sailor, he ranted an' he raved, but there weren't a thing to be done, so he settled down to drink like a fish and curse his mates. After a while, what with the rum and the sun, he fell asleep on the beach.
"When he woke, he thought fer a moment o' time that he dreamed still, fer bending o'er him was the loveliest lady he ever saw, pretty and sweet as the dawn and glorious as the sun. Her skin was gleaming white like mother o' pearl and her hair was as gold as a pirate's treasure, and she were naked as the day she were born, see?" Gibbs paused to grab the rum bottle and made a business of drinking and sighing in appreciation before turning back to his impatient audience. He glanced up at Jack, standing at the head of the quarterdeck ladder.
Jack snorted softly to himself, letting his hands shuffle randomly over the rails. Just like Gibbs, picturing a pink-and-gold beauty with a gentle smile, probably nice-mannered enough to take tea with Elizabeth Swann. No, no olive skin darkening to black rings around wild, cruel eyes, no black hair tangled and matted, wound with pearls and beads, no shark's smile. Not in Gibbs' story.
"Now, bein' a red-blooded man, he did what any red-blooded man would do in that situation, right? But she just giggled and moved 'erself out o' his reach. She didn't seem to speak his lingo, but that be nothing to stop a man o' the sea, and he smiled at her and offered her a drink from his bottle, and she came close enough t'take it. An' after a drink or two, mebbe three, it became clear as day that she weren't used to liquor, see?" With a grunt, Anamaria grabs the rum bottle and tips it back. "Not like our Anamaria, I tell ye," Gibbs smirked, and Anamaria kicked him.
"Hoist the mains'l!" squawked the brightly colored parrot perched on Cotton's shoulder, and Gibbs frowned at it. "I be getting there, alright?" he grumbled. "Like Cotton says, nature took its course, like ye might expect, and in the morning this handsome young man sat up, with his head achin' like fire, alone on the beach."
Jack turned to watch his crew, drawn into the story in spite of himself. Uneasily, he remembered waking up to the smell of burning rum. His brow furrowed and he tapped one finger against his chin as he tried to decide if letting a girl get him drunk and take advantage of him instead of the other way around made him a better pirate or a worse one.
Cotton nudged Gibbs and his parrot cackled, "Ahoy, maties!"
"Who's tellin' this tale, mate, me o' you?" Gibbs snapped. Cotton raised his hands in surrender and shook his head, motioning Gibbs to continue, and Gibbs glared at him a moment before speaking again.
"He looked out over the water, and there were his lass, all wet hair and angry face, in the water offshore. Plain to tell from her expression that she was nursin' a terrible grudge fer what went on between them, but that didn't bother him near as much as what he saw when she dived under the waves. She still weren't wearing a stitch o' clothing, but there weren't much to see below her waist now, nothing except"—Gibbs drew out the moment and dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper—"the shinin' tail o' a fish."
Everyone gasped and chuckled appropriately, although no one was really surprised and most had heard the story before. It was getting later, the moon had sunk near the horizon, and the rough, weather-beaten sailors were mellowed by the level of alcohol washing through their veins.
"Now, o'course, when the handsome sailor gets picked up by his crewmates, he tells 'em all about it, and o'course, they figured him to be tellin' tales to save his pride, and none take it seriously, eh? And even the man who was there started t'doubt his own self, after a time, and wondered if it weren't all a dream he had due t'the heat and the rum. So the years go by, and he don't change, except now he brags as once he had a mermaid, because no man stops tellin' a story like that."
Jack, swaying with the motion of the ship, made his way down the steps to the main deck. He leaned against the mast on the edges of the lamplight, letting it dance and play over the silver trinkets in his hair and outline his sharp features.
"It were in Tortuga that she found him again, in a tavern by the docks so filthy and low that it were a shame, even for Tortuga, mates. He were older now, an' not near so pretty—hard livin' had done him justice, and even his lovely eyes were bloodshot and puffy from drink an' debauchery. But she knew him, right enough, and he knew her, and there weren't no mistakin' the boy-child standin' beside her and lookin' at the handsome sailor with his own handsome eyes. An' she starts cursin' and spittin' at him."
"Hey, I thought she couldn't speak to him?" Moises piped up suspiciously.
"Aye, lad," Gibbs said with a knowing air, "but she learned to, seein' as how she spent so many years a-searching for him, determined on revenge. For to her everlasting shame the boy were human as his pa, an' a livin' reproach to her. She curses the boy's father, up and down, and then she goes at him with a knife, and then he weren't a problem to anyone, chums."
Arms crossed, Jack shook his head with amusement and studied the deck. Knife? Gibbs had it wrong. Of course, no one who would mess with a woman with teeth that sharp could have been all that bright to begin with. The man hadn't been just a seducer but a stupid seducer. Couldn't regret someone like that getting what was coming to him. Really, not worth anyone's grief.
Gibbs went on with his story, leaning forward confidingly.
"Once he lay dead, she screamed out her shame and anger and took her oath she'd have no part or piece of humans again. She ran out from the tavern and dived for the waves, flingin' knife and dress and human shape from her as she fell. The sailors that were in that tavern swore up and down that they saw her change, saw her pretty face grow long and fearsome, saw her skin turn scaly and hard, and by the time she surfaced again she were a sea serpent, moving through the water. An' from that day to this, it be fearful bad luck to see her, for she only comes to watch the ships that are doomed by storms and shoals, waiting to pull drowning sailors beneath the waves."
The sailors grinned and began to stretch and stand, moving toward hammocks or watch posts. But the cabin boy stayed where he was and looked up at Gibbs, puzzled.
"But what happened to the boy, her child?" he asked.
Gibbs drew breath to speak and stopped, plainly at a loss. Then he stood and ruffled the lads hair.
"That be a story for another time, youngster. Gettin' time to sleep, it is."
The deck was deserted and quiet, except for the few crewmembers on duty. The moon had set and only the stars lit the sky. The lamplight valiantly struggled to hold the dark up and away from the ship, and the dark sagged and fell around its small bright circle. The Pearl moved smoothly on course.
Jack threw a tipsy salute and a grin to the helmsman and retired for the night. Once safely inside the privacy of his cabin, he got almost drunk enough to forget the end of the story.
Warnings: Mild innuendo. Reckless butchering of timelines, sea tales, and folklore.
How the Sea Serpent Came to Be
The Black Pearl rocked quietly over the waves, its canvas a darker shadow against the moon-bright sky. Black water whispered and chuckled as it slipped over keel and hull and the ship dipped and creaked in reply. Captain Jack Sparrow stood quietly at the quarterdeck rail, hands clasped behind him, eyes resting on wet shadows and glittering ripples, listening dreamily to the tales and laughter of the sailors gathered in the shelter of the lanterns before the mast.
Tearlach told of the crew of the Alecton, who had fought bravely against the kraken, a fearsome creature eighteen feet in length, with pale tentacles that could pull a sailor from the deck itself and drag him into the salty deep. The captain and crew had fired cannon and thrown harpoons into its jellied mass, until the giant was killed and brought on board. But the stench it produced as it rotted was so great that they had to jettison the corpse before it could be brought to land to prove their story.
Shuddering slightly at a change in the soft, warm wind, the Pearl protectively cradled her crew, a tiny island of light and movement encircled by the unending dark space of water and sky. With the lamplight flickering mysteriously across her proud face, Anamaria spoke next, recounting a story she had heard with her own ears from Captain Hope of the H.M.S. Fly. While sailing in the clear waters of the Gulf of California, he had seen, swimming below the hull, a fifty-foot sea animal with the head and body of an enormous alligator, but with a neck longer than any alligator had a right to, and flippers instead of feet. Surfacing, the monster had passed by the ship so closely that, if it had been a man, they could have exchanged greetings without shouting.
As she finished, she passed a bottle of rum to Gibbs, who was sitting on a barrel to her right. After taking a long swing and passing the bottle on, Gibbs wiped his mouth and cleared his throat.
"Aye, the sea be full of monsters. There be beasts below that can sink a ship afore a man can wink an eye, creatures the very sight o' which bring bad luck—be they sea monks o' squids, o' the terrible sea serpent. Any o' you dogs heard the tale of how the sea serpent came to be?"
Jack glanced over and down at Gibbs, flashing a gold-toned grin. Gibbs was squinting seriously at their young cabin boy, whose dirty face looked half scared and half fascinated, as he sat with his arms around his knees on the deck. The silver light running along the rigging and the silent solitude of a ship at sea surrounded the storyteller with a hushed expectancy, and the cabin boy and the rest of the crew encouraged Gibbs to go on.
"Well, there was this sailor, see? Young, he were, and handsome t'boot, with large dark eyes and white teeth, an' the ladies liked him fine. He liked them too, with a lass in every port and mebbe two or three. And he docked in all the ports there were, he did." Duncan snickered, then caught Anamaria's frown and covered it with a cough. Gibbs continued with a grin.
"His mates would listen to him brag, telling o' the women he'd had and the things he'd done an' he fancied himself near irresistible to th' fairer sex, like. Seemed as if they would lie down fer him, whether they be high born ladies or maids or whores, and he grew vain as any peacock.
"So, came a day when his mates got tired o' hearin' him boast an' brag, and they played him a mean trick. When it came time fer the crew to take leave o' their ship, they put him off on an island without much 'cept a spring o' fresh water and a palm tree or two. They left him food and rum, laughed and told him they'd come back when the ship set sail again—and this time, they'd be the ones tellin' tales o' pretty and willin' women, because there weren't going to be no lady for him, all alone there."
Leaning moodily over the rail, Jack stared into the night, smelling salt and wet wood and feeling the Pearl move beneath his feet as the helmsman steadied the wheel. But in Jack's imagination he saw a tiny island in the sun, lonely and silent except for the sly mutter of the surf.
"This handsome sailor, he ranted an' he raved, but there weren't a thing to be done, so he settled down to drink like a fish and curse his mates. After a while, what with the rum and the sun, he fell asleep on the beach.
"When he woke, he thought fer a moment o' time that he dreamed still, fer bending o'er him was the loveliest lady he ever saw, pretty and sweet as the dawn and glorious as the sun. Her skin was gleaming white like mother o' pearl and her hair was as gold as a pirate's treasure, and she were naked as the day she were born, see?" Gibbs paused to grab the rum bottle and made a business of drinking and sighing in appreciation before turning back to his impatient audience. He glanced up at Jack, standing at the head of the quarterdeck ladder.
Jack snorted softly to himself, letting his hands shuffle randomly over the rails. Just like Gibbs, picturing a pink-and-gold beauty with a gentle smile, probably nice-mannered enough to take tea with Elizabeth Swann. No, no olive skin darkening to black rings around wild, cruel eyes, no black hair tangled and matted, wound with pearls and beads, no shark's smile. Not in Gibbs' story.
"Now, bein' a red-blooded man, he did what any red-blooded man would do in that situation, right? But she just giggled and moved 'erself out o' his reach. She didn't seem to speak his lingo, but that be nothing to stop a man o' the sea, and he smiled at her and offered her a drink from his bottle, and she came close enough t'take it. An' after a drink or two, mebbe three, it became clear as day that she weren't used to liquor, see?" With a grunt, Anamaria grabs the rum bottle and tips it back. "Not like our Anamaria, I tell ye," Gibbs smirked, and Anamaria kicked him.
"Hoist the mains'l!" squawked the brightly colored parrot perched on Cotton's shoulder, and Gibbs frowned at it. "I be getting there, alright?" he grumbled. "Like Cotton says, nature took its course, like ye might expect, and in the morning this handsome young man sat up, with his head achin' like fire, alone on the beach."
Jack turned to watch his crew, drawn into the story in spite of himself. Uneasily, he remembered waking up to the smell of burning rum. His brow furrowed and he tapped one finger against his chin as he tried to decide if letting a girl get him drunk and take advantage of him instead of the other way around made him a better pirate or a worse one.
Cotton nudged Gibbs and his parrot cackled, "Ahoy, maties!"
"Who's tellin' this tale, mate, me o' you?" Gibbs snapped. Cotton raised his hands in surrender and shook his head, motioning Gibbs to continue, and Gibbs glared at him a moment before speaking again.
"He looked out over the water, and there were his lass, all wet hair and angry face, in the water offshore. Plain to tell from her expression that she was nursin' a terrible grudge fer what went on between them, but that didn't bother him near as much as what he saw when she dived under the waves. She still weren't wearing a stitch o' clothing, but there weren't much to see below her waist now, nothing except"—Gibbs drew out the moment and dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper—"the shinin' tail o' a fish."
Everyone gasped and chuckled appropriately, although no one was really surprised and most had heard the story before. It was getting later, the moon had sunk near the horizon, and the rough, weather-beaten sailors were mellowed by the level of alcohol washing through their veins.
"Now, o'course, when the handsome sailor gets picked up by his crewmates, he tells 'em all about it, and o'course, they figured him to be tellin' tales to save his pride, and none take it seriously, eh? And even the man who was there started t'doubt his own self, after a time, and wondered if it weren't all a dream he had due t'the heat and the rum. So the years go by, and he don't change, except now he brags as once he had a mermaid, because no man stops tellin' a story like that."
Jack, swaying with the motion of the ship, made his way down the steps to the main deck. He leaned against the mast on the edges of the lamplight, letting it dance and play over the silver trinkets in his hair and outline his sharp features.
"It were in Tortuga that she found him again, in a tavern by the docks so filthy and low that it were a shame, even for Tortuga, mates. He were older now, an' not near so pretty—hard livin' had done him justice, and even his lovely eyes were bloodshot and puffy from drink an' debauchery. But she knew him, right enough, and he knew her, and there weren't no mistakin' the boy-child standin' beside her and lookin' at the handsome sailor with his own handsome eyes. An' she starts cursin' and spittin' at him."
"Hey, I thought she couldn't speak to him?" Moises piped up suspiciously.
"Aye, lad," Gibbs said with a knowing air, "but she learned to, seein' as how she spent so many years a-searching for him, determined on revenge. For to her everlasting shame the boy were human as his pa, an' a livin' reproach to her. She curses the boy's father, up and down, and then she goes at him with a knife, and then he weren't a problem to anyone, chums."
Arms crossed, Jack shook his head with amusement and studied the deck. Knife? Gibbs had it wrong. Of course, no one who would mess with a woman with teeth that sharp could have been all that bright to begin with. The man hadn't been just a seducer but a stupid seducer. Couldn't regret someone like that getting what was coming to him. Really, not worth anyone's grief.
Gibbs went on with his story, leaning forward confidingly.
"Once he lay dead, she screamed out her shame and anger and took her oath she'd have no part or piece of humans again. She ran out from the tavern and dived for the waves, flingin' knife and dress and human shape from her as she fell. The sailors that were in that tavern swore up and down that they saw her change, saw her pretty face grow long and fearsome, saw her skin turn scaly and hard, and by the time she surfaced again she were a sea serpent, moving through the water. An' from that day to this, it be fearful bad luck to see her, for she only comes to watch the ships that are doomed by storms and shoals, waiting to pull drowning sailors beneath the waves."
The sailors grinned and began to stretch and stand, moving toward hammocks or watch posts. But the cabin boy stayed where he was and looked up at Gibbs, puzzled.
"But what happened to the boy, her child?" he asked.
Gibbs drew breath to speak and stopped, plainly at a loss. Then he stood and ruffled the lads hair.
"That be a story for another time, youngster. Gettin' time to sleep, it is."
The deck was deserted and quiet, except for the few crewmembers on duty. The moon had set and only the stars lit the sky. The lamplight valiantly struggled to hold the dark up and away from the ship, and the dark sagged and fell around its small bright circle. The Pearl moved smoothly on course.
Jack threw a tipsy salute and a grin to the helmsman and retired for the night. Once safely inside the privacy of his cabin, he got almost drunk enough to forget the end of the story.