'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney
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9. On The Rocks
"So we won't be making the entrance we intended. It'll still be memorable."
"It certainly will. That's exactly what chafes!"
Jack and Lysander were seated on their backpacks on a flat-topped tan boulder, a half-kilometer offshore from the little cove closest to the Norringtons' farm. It had been their plan to berth the Nigel D at the dock there, then hike the remaining overland distance to the farmhouse, arriving road-dusted and unexpected like authentic vagabonds. But that plan had fallen through, rather spectacularly.
Lysee had warned the Captain about this rock cluster's bad reputation. "Everybody says you have to be really careful making your way through it 'cause the rocks change with every tide level." But it'd been a cloudless midday with only moderate chop, so Sparrow had been confident he could get through, if he kept his speed down and eyes sharp. He still maintained they would've made it easily, if not for "that bloody insidious wave!"
He'd been in the middle of guiding the cruiser through the last narrow bit, between Table Rock and Nellie's Ridge, when an entirely unannounced surge of water had crashed into the Nigel D's port side, slamming her against Table Rock. And, more importantly, onto a pointy below-surface protuberance, which'd poked a large opening their hull. It had been additional ill luck that the point also skewered the storage compartment containing their inflatable- now uninflatable- dinghy.
Better luck was the ship's coming to ground so close to Table Rock that the entire crew had been able to transfer themselves and their luggage onto that aptly named monolith, without incurring any injury worse than sopping-wet shoes. In fact, the whole incident followed a pattern Jack found gallingly familiar.
Once everything of value was atop the boulder, Captain Sparrow had used his cell phone to contact the nearest HM Coast Guard station- fortunately only a few kilometers away. Having been assured help was on the way, the castaways settled down to wait, as the Nigel D began her gradual slide beneath the surface. Lysee dug her penny whistle from the pack, to play a couple tunes she'd picked up in France. But Sparrow was too sulky to derive much comfort from the music, or from her words.
"I take absolutely no satisfaction from knowin' this is what Jack Sparrow will be remembered for in these parts: scupperin' his own vessel like a weekend sailor!" He jerked his thumb at the two-thirds submerged cruiser, just a few meters away.
"You're nothing close to being the first. Tom Boyle wrecked his crabbing boat here just last March." Lysee unhelpfully added, "During a squall."
"Hurrumph!"
"But at least this ship is just a financial loss. Not one that really meant something to you."
Jack's glower softened as he studied the gouged hull, picturing a certain other vessel in her place. "That's so, lass." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Which puts me in mind of a distantly related matter. Did you intend ta someday learn scuba diving?"
"Sure! I was thinking of taking a course during summer break. Or right after I graduate."
"Once yer certified, theer are some divin' sites in the Caribbean I'd rather like ta show you. Includin' some I've never shared before."
She enthusiastically bounced on her pack. "I'll definitely earn my C-card next summer! It'd be great to take more vacations together- this one wouldn't of been nearly as much fun without you!"
That seemed to make Jack feel better. "We have an accord." They exchanged a firm handshake.
With a scraping groan, the Nigel D slipped four-fifths of the way into the sea. Lysee played a requiem for the foundering boat; a somber rendition of 'My Heart Will Go On'. To her mild surprise, Jack provided a vocal accompaniment, singing low and wistfully:
"You're here, there's nothing I fear
And I know that my heart will go on,
We'll stay, forever this way
You are safe in my heart
And my heart will go on and on..."
Shortly after the final lingering note, the Nigel D emitted a metallic sigh and began the final slide from sight. "May you have comfort of the fishes, old girl," Sparrow murmured. He gave the vanishing ship a salute from his nearly-empty rum flask, drained half the contents, then handed it to Lysee to finish the other half.
For several minutes the castaways just looked about them. The scattered assemblage of spray-edged boulders now showed no sign human intrusion, other than a few graffiti scrawls. Irascible seagull calls rang over the repeating rustlings of waves on rock.
The rugged Cornwall coast loomed to the north; stony shoreline ringing the base of dark green foliage, broken by lighter-green pasture fragments and scattered building roofs. At the land's topmost edge, they could spot a round grassy knoll marking the high point of the Norringtons' property. So close, yet so far...
"Got anythin' more cheerful in yer repertoire, luv?"
With a grin, Lysee launched into 'The Whistling Gypsy'. Jack joined in once more:
"Gypsy rover come over the hill,
Down to the valley so shady,
He whistled and sang 'til the green woods rang,
And he won the heart of a la-a-a-dee...!"
When that was done, she played 'I Am A Pirate King' and 'Sailing On', which she knew Jack knew. Then she started 'The Fool On The Hill', just to see if that would throw him. It didn't.
"Day after day, alone on the hill,
The man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still,
But nobody wants to know him, they can see that he's just a fool,
And he never gives an answer
But the fool on the hill,
Sees the sun going down,
An' the eyes in his head,
See the world spinning 'round...
"Though given current circumstances, maybe that should be 'The Fool On The Rock.'"
"You're not a fool. It was just bad luck."
"I wonder."
"Of course it was! We both saw how that wave came out of nowhere!"
"Exactly. This hain't the first time I've lost a ship in that manner." Lysee looked predictably interested in hearing about this. Jack shrugged and began.
"'Twas 'way back during my original pirating career. One of the several ships I captained was the brig Whimbrel. Nothin' close ta bein' my most formidable vessel! She'd originally been a merchant's boat, an' handled like one, but I found ways ta compensate fer that limitation. That is, until theer came a day when my crew an' I had completed a series of successful raids- by which I mean, we captured plentiful plunder with minimum bloodshed- an' were headin' into Tortuga to cash it in. Several of the original merchant crew announced, now that they could return to theer families with pockets full of shine, they intended ta do jus' that. Those lads'd never been pirates at heart.
"Now it happens that, at the western edge of Tortuga's harbor entrance, theer's a rock ridge runnin' off the shore into the water. Everyone usin' that port was aware of this geological feature an' gave it wide berth. On this particular day, another ship was comin' through at the same time, so I was obliged ta steer closer to that reef 'en usual, though I certainly kept an adequate distance. But jus' as we were makin' the turn, a most peculiar happenstance occurred..."
"A big wave came up!"
"Aye- very like what we just witnessed. It lifted the Whimbrel an' dropped her smack onto that ridge- cracked the keel as neat as you could crack an egg on a bowl rim! Yer aware what a serious injury that is."
"It's like breaking an animal's back. All you can do is put it out of it's misery."
"But the really singular aspect was, the Whimbrel herself was the only entity what took any damage. Beyond scrapes an' bruises there was no harm done to the crew. Or even the cargo! We got it all transferred ta shore, carted into town an' sold as intended. So the wreck was of no actual consequence to those blokes who'd been about ta retire anyway; they collected theer shares an' headed home as planned. All the rest, includin' my entire command crew, had no trouble finding berths on other ships. The only one who suffered any real loss was meself. It required years, an' a wide variety of exertions, before I won another ship. Which is a separate tale entirely.
"Poor Whimbrel's remains broke up with the tides... were all scavenged or washed away within two month's time. She was a portly ol' wench, but she'd done the best she could fer me. I still doff my hat whenever I have occasion ta pass that reef."
Jack was sounding melancholy again. Hoping to improve his mood, Lysee started piping the most cheerful tune she knew: a lively except from 'Donkey Serenade'. Confound the man- he even knew that one!
"Amigo mio, does she not have a dainty bray?
She listens carefully to each little tune you play.
La bella Señorita?
Si, si, mi muchachito!
She'd love to sing it too if only she knew the way!
But try as she may
In her voice there's a flaw,
And all that the lady can say...
Is 'Hee Haw'!
Señorita, donkey sita,
Not so fleet as a mos-kee-tah
But so sweet like my Chiquita
You're the one for me!"
Jack kept his gaze on Lysander as he sang. Surrounded by rocking blue waves, barefoot, sun glinting off two-tone hair and the jewels at her throat... she could've passed for a musical sea nymph.
Lysee was about to start the next verse when the buzz of a boat motor interrupted. A fast-moving vessel appeared around the headland to the west, veering in their direction. The distinct black and mustard coloration identified it as a HMCG rescue boat. "That'd be our ride," Jack commented.
The two slipped on their damp shoes and stood, shouldering their backpacks. As the boat neared, the girl exclaimed, "There's Mom and Dad!" Sparrow shaded his eyes, quickly confirming the identity of the two erect figures on the bow. Lysee waved energetically. "Hi Dad! Hi Mom!"
The craft reduced speed as it entered the rock-strewn area. Jack had a momentary chagrined thought, that James and Mare had come to witness his bloody stupid mistake for themselves. But of course they hadn't. It was to greet their semi-prodigal daughter.
The rescue boat closed in, carefully maneuvering to draw alongside Table Rock's deepest side. Jack gave a brazen grin to the jacket-clad Norringtons. "You two have a change of day jobs?"
James replied in his most gratingly superior Commodorial tone. "No, Jack, we had a premonition. It seemed most improbable you would make it all the way home without incurring at least one major misadventure."
"I've a notion ta swim the remaining distance," Sparrow huffed.
But he resisted the temptation. The two castaways and their effects were quickly assisted aboard, to plentiful hugs and kisses for Lysee, backslaps and smiles for Jack. Having established none of the rescuees needed medical attention, the captain- a somewhat paunchy man with sharp hazel eyes and a jet mustache- gave the order to head to shore. Then he plucked a clipboard from somewhere and bellied up to Jack.
The name above his uniform badge rang a bell. / Ah, a local friend of James'. That accounts fer him an' Mare managing ta wrangle passage on a rescue craft. /
"Mr. Sparrow, I am Captain Gerald Bruker of Her Majesty's Coast Guard. We are all most gratified neither you nor Miss Norrington suffered any injuries or hardship from this accident. None the less, I'll require you to fill out this form describing how it happened. We want to avoid repetitions in the future, eh what?"
"Don't know if theer's anythin' you can do ta avoid repetitions of this one. 'Twas a rogue wave that stove my ship in," Jack grumbled as he took the board. Noting a glint of skepticism, he added, "They do exist, mate."
"Not to doubt you, sir. But so many boating mishaps are blamed on rogue waves, one would think them common as harbor seals."
"Lysander- Miss Norrington- can provide collaborative testimony. Her folks'll tell you she's not prone ta fibbing to escape blame." / She never got a change ta learn how, growin' up with the Mum she had. /
"In any event, we can all be grateful there was a climbable rock nearby."
Jack shrugged, thinking that if there'd been no bloody rock nearby, the Nigel D might've just bobbed.
As the rescue boat made her careful way through the boulders Sparrow dutifully filled out the form, describing his vanished cruiser and the circumstances of her vanishing. He experienced a certain twinge whilst filling in the 'Value Of Craft' square. What it was about Jack Sparrow that motivated those capricious sea deities to periodically collect a ship from him?
He sniffed. At least it should be a while now, before the next such sacrifice came due.
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'My Heart Will Go On' lyrics by Will Jennings, music by James Horner
'The Whistling Gypsy' lyrics copyrighted by Leo Maguire, based on previous compositions
'The Fool On The Hill' lyrics and music by Paul McCartney
'Donkey Serenade' lyrics by Robert Wright and Chet Forrest, from the 1937 film The Firefly.
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