TEN: Riddle and Squeak
Sip whilst kneeling, sip lip-to-lip, never leave. Flip three times. What? Live to never. Live forever. Cryptic was right. One or the other. Take the space. Hmm... Gre edisno trewa rdedbya nyli fe. Gibberish? Dri nkiti nthec avean dyo uwillsu fferf oryourc rim es. And then some French, and then... On l yth ebehol derca ndri nkwit hou tdea tha spunis men tfo rthe ft. Hewh ofil lsthecont ainerm us tdrin kithi mse lf.
Sunset ahead, home turn, track through back way. Jack felt that he knew what this meant. Nothing is obvious. They had that bloody right! Not more... Ke epati tandn ot hingwi llst opy ou.
Sel lin gwi llno two rkfo rthism ost valu ablewat erth atsom anyde sire. That seemed to be at least one word of decipherable English at the end. Itw illon lyres ultind eathto th osewh otry. Tr ytounde rmine theau thori ty ofth eg ods. Right. And then some crazy sonnet.
The whole water'd hole is turned upside-down; The fallen mist creeps solemn on the ground. Overeager steals the goddess' crown, The hare upon the roof tell turn around. Vessel of life ist turnéd rude by greed; The ground detests the drinker's bended knee, Immersed in hunger, shall hunger succeed, Thirst shall unlike as throats tight stay with thee. Disgust at ye may turn them into dust, Berlady hath known much a lesser fleer—As widows lovéd seeing the bones rust. Be scathéd should the candles reappear. A water so holy pass it forth not, A death unmarkéd is a death forgot.
Absolutely bloody impossible. But it meant something. It must mean something...
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"I do not approve of this attire," Beckett said sniffily, folding his arms. Elizabeth looked at him, dressed more appropriately for work on board a pirate ship. He certainly did look... different. But that was a good thing. The more he looked like his old self, the more she felt disgusted with him; she didn't want him reminding her of his past crimes against her.
A simple ruffled shirt—though not too ruffled—over a dark brown jerkin, with big grey buttons that caught the light. He had on the same boots that he had taken from his manor—which were not strictly piratical, but he refused to relinquish them—with dark grey pantaloons tucked into them. He also had on a thick, black belt that made his waist look slimmer then a supermodel's... not that they existed.
"Most ladies would die for a figure like yours, Beckett," Elizabeth said in a teasing tone. Beckett brushed his shirt down idly.
"Most ladies would die with a figure like mine, Elizabeth," he replied dryly, pulling an overcoat on and buttoning up the front. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. Beckett was not the most brawny of men—his shoulders tapered down to a trim waistline, and though it could not be said that he was built like a beanpole, he was apparently 'fashionably slim'—though after his time on the run from the law, what with the distinct lack of food, he was becoming unmistakeably scrawny.
"Where is your head at, Beckett?" Elizabeth sighed and folded her arms, "You're taking this journey-to-immortality very calmly. And I can't help but think that you're planning something."
"What is there to plan?" Beckett smiled a lethargic smile, "I'm simply biding my time. You remember that, Elizabeth."
"Do any of you two happen to know the meaning of the word 'spunis'?" Jack suddenly popped up behind them in the way that he did quite often, "Because I am so bloody confused by that impossibly contrary book of yours."
"So it's my book now," Beckett muttered.
"I don't know what 'spunis' is, Jack," Elizabeth said, ignoring Beckett, "It sounds Latin?" Jack and Beckett both shook their heads, as if she were a simpleton.
"There are pages and pages and pages of writing... but I hardly understand any of them. The sonnet means nothing, either; and that's meant to be English! But," Jack paused and held a finger up, smiling a pleased smile, "I think I've worked out that we have to land on the west side of Florida, and travel through to the Fountain of Youth."
"And what makes you jump to that conclusion?" Beckett asked, in a frowny voice. He himself did not frown, but his tone conveyed his distaste effortlessly.
"Sunset ahead, home turn, track through back way," Jack recited from the book, which was open before him, "Set behind. The sun sets in the west. Put it ahead of us—and we're going westwards," he paused, "Savvy?"
"No, not 'savvy'," Beckett said the final word in a rather silly and mimicking tenor, "What about home turn, track through back way?"
"Well, I'm still working on those," Jack said in a confiding tone.
"I suppose that 'track through back way' refers to going around the back, so to speak," Elizabeth said, "As the Fountain is, according to Sao's charts, further to the east of Florida. See?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, and Beckett clicked his tongue.
"And anything else you care to tell us about this map?" Beckett peered at some words, "What does 'Dree ner-konfe eetin ottons tone' mean? What language is that?" Beckett frowned, "It's like no dialect I've ever heard of..."
"I'm sure all will become clear," Jack said cheerfully.
"Sip whilst kneeling, sip lip-to-lip, never leave. Flip three times," Beckett said, incredulously, "Who wrote this rubbish?" Well, now. "Flip three times? That's just like saying flip once, is it not?"
"Ay?" Jack snatched the book from him and frowned at it, "You mean... do the opposite?"
"I suppose," Beckett muttered. Jack scratched an eyebrow and thought for a moment. Beckett looked at the writing. "So don't slip whilst kneeling, don't sip 'lip-to-lip', and leave?" Oh, he's a sharp one indeed.
"Huh. And that's a lot of help. 'Leave'," Jack said.
"What does it mean, 'don't sip lip-to-lip'?" Elizabeth asked.
"That's anyone's guess," Jack muttered, "Bloody riddles."
"Florida. Swampy, marshy wasteland. Currently being colonized mainly by the Spanish and French, I believe," Beckett said curtly, changing the subject to something more tangible. "Though that is to change." The last English colonies to settle there had been a disaster—but they were willing to try again. Soon.
"Yes, alright, Mister Patriotic," Elizabeth blew her fringe up, "So we approach from the west, make our way through the swamplands, and get to this fountain... we don't even know what it looks like," she put her hands on her hips, "Any chance of accuracy?"
"What we are goin' after here is a myth, Lizzie," Jack wagged a finger, "Accuracy would seem like cheating, bilking—nay, letting ourselves down!"
"Accuracy makes for a safe voyage in which everyone will not end up dead," Beckett said matter-of-factly, and Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Would you drink the fountain water, Beckett?" Jack grinned, "If given the chance, would you take a good gulp?"
"I'm still deciding about that one," Beckett said, looking thoughtful.
"Who said I'd give you the choice?"
"If I am to risk my life coming on this little journey with all of you," Beckett shot both Elizabeth and Jack a particularly nasty look, "Then I should at least be able to reap some of its rewards. Wouldn't you say that was fair?"
"Yes, that would be fair," Elizabeth folded her arms with an amused smile, "But then again, what's fair about making a deal to leave our pirate fleet alone if we defeat the Dutchman, and then when the defeat happens, sending the Endeavour forwards to finish us off?" Elizabeth snorted, "You deserved to be blown up!"
"It was just... it was..." Beckett frowned severely, "That is not a very nice thing to say."
"Hmm, and I suppose everything you say to me is perfectly nice," Elizabeth said, raising an eyebrow. Beckett sighed dramatically.
"I feel I have a right. I have you constantly bullying, oppressing and harassing me," he rolled his eyes, "Why not pick on somebody else for a change? Does it not matter to you that I win every argument we end up in?"
"You do not," Elizabeth said, looking scandalized.
"You're very bad at arguing," Beckett said with a smirk, straightening one ruffled sleeve with a jerk of his wrist.
"I am not!" Elizabeth flushed slightly.
Jack folded his arms and looked from one of them to another. They were like children. No, worse—they were like a married couple.
NB: tralalalalala...
NEXT TIME: Elizabeth tapped a finger against her chin. "Beckett, I think Jack may have gotten the idea by now," she said.