Author's Very Brief and Somewhat Awkward Note: Yup.
"Le bonbon à bébé,
dorment doucement la vie est long et aime
est temps profond sera doux pour le thee
tout le monde à voir que l'heur de regarder
autour et savoir
savent que les ombres viennent disparaître
comment la brise remue les arbres comment
les fleurs se développent…"
Jack could hear her singing in the other room. She was putting Erin and Robert to sleep, he supposed. Jack sat, twiddling his thumbs, looking around restlessly. He had never been one to settle down and sit still: not with women, not at home, not here. He made an attempt to pull his sheets aside ad get up weakly, trying out his legs. They worked fine. He slowly made his way about the room, grasping onto things if he started to wobble. Jack really didn't think this was from sickness- it was from not having alcohol in his system for a long period of time. He was worse at walking when he was sober than he was drunk.
"You shouldn't be up!" Fantine entered, and went to help him.
"I'm not an old man," Jack shrugged her off.
"Fine. Suit yourself." Fantine sat down near him and began to mend a shirt. Was it his? Another guest's? Robert's? No, it was too large for a boy. Was it another man's? "So tell me, Captain, how you conveniently happened upon the beach the other day whilst I was taking my walk."
God, her accent was awful. He thought it had gotten worse. "Has your accent gotten worse?"
Fantine blushed. "I… I haven't been… that's none of your business!"
"It is too my business, if I'm going to tell you how I got here."
"Just tell me." Fantine went back to mending. "And where's Bootstrap?" She looked up again with a strange look on her face. Hope? "Shouldn't he be with you? I mean, he is normally with you, no?"
Jack stared down at the floor. He hadn't thought about it really since he had been at sea. There was an odd sense of anger that welled up inside of him now that normally wasn't there when he thought about Bootstrap.
"Mutiny," was all he could think of at the moment.
Fantine leaned forward. "What… what is this word?"
"Mutiny," Jack said grimly, "It's when yer crew rises up against you and stabs ye in the back when ye least expect it."
"And… and did this happen to you?"
"Aye. Barbossa… do you remember him?"
"He is… he is the one with the large nose? The one who likes apples."
"Aye. That's the one. 'E was my first mate, and, due to a number of unfortunate circumstances, 'e'd managed to turn the crew against me. We were heading for the Isle d'Muerte when 'e stopped the boat and the crew made me walk the plank."
"No!"
"I swam to a deserted island nearby… it was one of our old rum stores. I need some, by the way."
"You'll get no such thing."
"Lass, a man needs 'is rum in life. This isn't exactly a pleasant story for me-"
"Fine. I'll see if I can find some if you finish the story."
Jack settled back. So stories were her weak spot. He could come up with a few stories…. "Anyway, I stayed there for about three days, until all manner of sea creatures came into my presence." He flailed his arms about eccentrically. Fantine watched, bewildered and wide-eyed. "Until one day, lassoed myself a couple of sea turtles, lashed 'em together, and made a raft." Jack turned around, his legs still a bit wobbly. "It is from there," he said, grabbing onto a wall for support, "that I washed ashore on the beaches of New Antoine- to your welcoming doorstep, my dear." He took her hand, and kissed it.
Fantine pulled away. "You're just feeding me a bunch of tripe," she said, disgusted, "You know that's a lie!"
"It is not," Jack said, feigning indignant.
"What then, Captain," Fantine looked at him severely over the table that separated them, "did you manage to use for rope?"
Jack paused. "Oh," he said, thinking quickly. "Human hair…" he said mysteriously.
Fantine raised her eyebrows at Jack's dirty head of deadlocks. (She couldn't raise just one… she'd been trying at it in her spare time, at the expense of passerby who thought she was a loony.)
"…From my back." Jack finished.
Despite herself, Fantine chuckled. "Erin's asleep now. I'm going to finish up work and go to bed. If you're going to be walking about, do not make too much noise; you will wake the guests."
Jack nodded, settling himself in a chair and propping his feet up on the desk. As Fantine turned to go, Jack got up noisily. "Oh, lass, I almost fogot…" she turned. "Rum." He said plainly, indicating the empty mug. Fantine rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"If you're not going to get it, I'll get it myself." Jack grabbed his coat, hat, and mug, and walked towards the door.
"Why do you walk that way?" Fantine inquired.
"What way?"
"That way. You walk as a woman does."
"I do not!" There was no feigning indignant now. "I've always walked this way."
Fantine shook her head. He hadn't walked that way before. Before he had walked up straight, head erect, arms swinging from side to side- like a soldier. Now, when Jack walked, he sort of tiptoed about in a wonky line, his arms swinging about like broken windmill sails. It was actually pretty comical to look it. What had happened that made him do that? But it wasn't just his walk… it was the way he looked at things too. There was something different about Jack: when she spoke to him, it was like it took a moment or two for him to register that she was there; like she was some sort of spectre. It worried Fantine a little bit. Maybe it was just the absence of rum and a rocking boat in his system that made him this way.
Or maybe not.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
When Fantine finished up work, she head sleepily upstairs, yawning. When she passed by Jack's room, she heard voices. Her first thought was that it was Lucy, the newest addition to the employee list. At first sight, one got the impression that Lucy wasn't the brightest tavern girl, but she was a hard worker and compliantly took whatever pay she got without question. But after a few days, Lucy came in late on a Tuesday morning with pieces of straw in her hair and on her clothes. Mister Bartlett, a bald-headed merchant who often stayed in New Antoine to trade during the season, had a satisfied and jovial twinkle in his eye as he took his breakfast that morning, giving occasional remarks like, "Jolly good service you have here, Missus Stew, jolly good service indeed! What a sanguine porridge!" At the inward question of whether or not the adjective "sanguine" should be used to describe porridge, Fantine had gone to the stables that day to feed some of the horses, when she found a ghastly and rather disturbing mess strewn all over the floor, and the horses in a terrible frenzy in their stalls. She didn't ask any questions… she really didn't want to know.
When she checked in on the children, she saw Erin sleeping peacefully in her crib, but Robert gone. Fantine quickly opened the door to Jack's room, finding Robert sitting cross-legged on the floor and Jack doing some kind of strange dance.
"And then they made me their chief… oh!" he said, a little taken aback. "'Ello there, lass."
"Robert! You shouldn't be up at this hour!"
"Father was telling me of the Gorgolon tribe on island Mikee Moosa!" Robert cried excitedly. "What happened after that, Father?"
"The very worse. You see, the Gorgolons were actually cannibals, and they believed-"
"Mama," Robert turned around, "What's a cannibal?"
"Maybe when you're a bit older," Fantine picked him up underneath her arm and carried him like a load of potatoes. "For now it's time for good boys to go to bed."
"Mama!"
"Yes?"
"What's a cannibal?"
"Robert…"
"Mama!... What's a cannibal?"
"It's a word for a person who doesn't like carrots." Jack finished.
"I'm a cannibal!" Robert cried happily.
"Robert!" Fantine clapped a hand over his mouth, putting him in his bed.
"I don't want to go to bed! I'm a cannibal!" He bounced up and down in his bed. "I'm a Gorgolon cannibal! I'm a Gorgolon cannibal!"
"Thank you, Captain." Fantine glared in Jack's direction.
"Now listen, Bobby," Jack knelt down. "I can only finish the story if you promise to go to bed after, savvy?"
"What does savvy mean?"
"It's what men of yer father's profession say when they mean 'agreed'."
"The why don't you just say agreed?"
"Because savvy sounds better, savvy? Now listen. I can only finish the story if you promise to go to bed after. Do you promise?"
"I promise."
"Good. Now, back to the cannibals. A cannibal is not something ye want to be, Bobby, so don't go saying it to yer mates. Carrots are good fer ye, and don't give yer mum any trouble. I personally love carrots."
"You do?" Robert wrinkled his nose.
"I do. I crave 'em. Can't get enough of 'em. The problem was that the Gorgolon people hated carrots. So you can imagine when I asked for some carrots, they were considerably shocked. A chief of the Gorgolons shouldn't like carrots! But I told 'em that carrots helped yer eyes and turned yer skin a lovely shade of orange. So they agreed to give it a try. But they would only do it if they had carrots in a stew. And what better stew to eat than a stew with the chief in it?"
"What?" Robert said.
"What?!" Fantine said.
"That's what I said. But the Gorgolons believed stew is best prepared when the chief is boiled with it."
"That's terrible!" Robert cried.
"Really, Jack, I do think that is a bit gruesome-"
"That's what I said. But there was no talking them out of it. Now, obviously the price of introducing carrots into the Gorgolons' diet was high, but not so high as to match it with my own life. So, I wove a plan to outwit them. I had one friend on the island, and his name was Meency-Weency."
"Meency-Weency!" Robert laughed.
"Aye. Meency-Weency. Meency-Weency was the only Gorgolon on the island who liked carrots. But secretly. He had been trying to grow a big carrot farm for years, but couldn't because he could only do it at night in the dark in a secluded area. He had managed to grow a decent garden, but not enough to satisfy a hungry man for a whole season. He also liked me a lot and didn't plan on preparing Captain-Jack-Sparrow-stew any time soon… and enjoying it, anyway. So, Meency-Weency and I made a fake dummy of myself, clothes and everything, and filled it with carrots and leftover sticks. We tied it up to a giant chair, and covered the face, arms, and legs in carrots. It made sense: since I was going into a stew with carrots, why not marinate the entire thing together? So once we had finished the dummy, we marinated him up and prepared a boat for myself. As the fake Jack was being thrown into the stew, Meency-Weency had prepared a boat for me to escape on, filled with the leftover carrots. He made me promise to come back again one day with different carrot seeds from all over the world in return for his services. I hear that after the Gorgolons found out that the stew was not made up of chief meat, but all carrots, they weren't all that angry. In fact, they really liked it. I hear they're trying to grow the largest carrot farm now by sending carrot traders all over the world. And that," Jack bowed, "is how I outwitted the wily cannibalistic Gorgolons."
Fantine and Robert clapped, grinning. "That was a wonderful story," Robert yawned.
"Yes, and now it's time for you to go to bed." Fantine kissed Robert on the forehead, and tucked him in. "Good night, Robert."
"Good night, Mama. Good night, Father."
"Night, lad." Jack closed the door and sauntered into his room, plopping down on the chair. Fantine followed.
"I do not mind when you tell him stories, Jack, it is good for him. But please… just take it a tone down."
"'E's a smart lad. I've never seen smarter. 'E literally has the vocabulary of someone three times 'is age."
"Yes, but smart little boys need to learn there's a line between fantasy and reality."
"That story wasn't fantasy."
Fantine gave him a look.
"Well, I mean, obviously the part about the carrots was a lie, I hate all vegetables, but the basic plotline is true."
"I don't think you're telling me the truth."
"I'm surprised you can't trust me. I am a dishonest man, but it's the dishonest ones you can trust, because you can always trust them to be honest."
"Well then, Captain, how did the story really go?"
Jack lowered his tri-corner hat over his eyes and crossed his boots. "Several years back, when I was still relatively a young man, a got shipwrecked on this island. Through a series of complicated and long-winded events, I landed as the chief of the Gorgolons. It was after I became chief that I learned the islanders were cannibalistic, as was the custom of many of the tribes on that spit of islands. For various spiritual and economical reasons, the Gorgolons wished to eat me alive. I did have one person loyal to me, and he looked rather like me. He said he had wished to return to his ancestors for a long time, and that to die for me would be an honor. So I dressed him up like myself, painted his face in the traditional chief paint, and put him a throne to be carried. He gave me a bone from a necklace of his that he wore to his death. It might have been a tooth or something, I can't remember. While he was thrown into the fire, a managed to escape with a boat we had prepared. And that," he said grimly, "is how I really outwitted the wily cannibalistic Gorgolons."
Fantine said nothing. She just dusted around a bit. She still didn't believe him.
"Do you want to see the bone he gave me?" Jack pulled out one of the many trinkets he kept on several strings around his neck. He rarely took it off. Fantine came closer, like a moth to a flame. "That one, there. That was his bone." Fantine ran her finger over it. "Well, not literally his bone, but the bone he gave to me."
"Oh, Jack," she said, "I'm… I'm sorry I didn't believe you."
"You can always trust a dishonest man, I told you."
"And… and I'm sorry you lost you friend. Really. I should not have brought it up. Here, I'll go fetch you some rum before I go to bed." She turned at the door, and smiled. "it was a good story."
Jack smiled to himself as he listened to her go down the stairs. It hadn't been a loyal Gorgolon man, but a woman. When he became chief, the Gorgolons bestowed many prizes upon him, including a harem of sorts. But the one untouchable thing was the high priestess, Ansomi. The whole idea of having a priestess and a chief to talk to the gods was a bit superfluous in Jack's opinion, but he had never been one to criticize the customs of other cultures- especially those that circulated around beautiful women. But, since Ansomi was the only thing keeping the gods from destroying the island and the humans with it, she could not be touched- she would remain chaste for the gods forever. But wily Jack never let trivial matters such as keeping chastity for angry gods bother him- just like he never let stealing that case of Aztec gold bother him. Cursed? Humbug. He and Ansomi embarked on a passionate affair, until they were found out by one of the eunuchs. Enraged, the Gorgolons set out to murder the two before anything worse happened. Jack had prepared a boat that would take them back to the English colonies, but Ansomi insisted on staying and burning, for the gods would be even angrier that the priestess left the island they had chosen for her and would send a plague of destruction after the lovers if they stayed together. Jack was far out at sea when they finally found Ansomi. He knew that she would be burned for her crimes, and not eaten, so her soul would be forever in torments on the earth. So, Ansomi gave a bone from her necklace to Jack, saying that he would keep a piece of her soul with him always, and she could roam the earth with him- wherever he went.
And that was how he outwitted the cannibalistic Gorgolons- at the expense of a woman's life. He wasn't proud of it. But he couldn't tell that to Fantine. She wouldn't let him in this inn ever again. She wouldn't let him on this island ever again. He was sure he could find someone else to take care of his children, but for some reason Fantine just… worked. She knew a lot for such a young age. For all her homeliness, her wisdom was very… becoming.
Was it?
"Here's your rum, Captain," Fantine entered with a mug. "Please, don't take too much of it. You're not the only guest in this inn who's fond of the drink. Get some rest, and don't go into the stables in the morning. Today is Monday."
Jack chose not to ask Fantine to further expound on the statement, instead settling back in his chair and taking a swig of rum.
"Oh, and Captain," Fantine poked her head inside the door. "Christmas is coming up in a few days. Usually Mrs. Stew hosts a little party here at the inn; it's local, but usually it is just the staff. It is very enjoyable. Good night."
Jack nodded, glancing at the bone on his necklace. Then, he took a long-awaited drink.
Author's Not-So-Brief-as-Aforesaid-but-Nonetheless-Awkward After-Story Note: I should mention that a drunken undead monkey can use better grammar than I, so apologies on my part. I also realize that the French is a tad off, but I am not fluent in French and the two-bit translators are my only source of hope to give depth to Fantine's... Frenchyness, if that makes any sense. Which is probably doesn't. Oh, bother it all. Pleas review. I need reivews like Jack needs a drink. And thank you all for reviewing so generously; I hope you like where this story is going. Keep looking for the next chapter coming up soon, muses permitting and pirate attacks pending.
Anotherblastedromantic
