'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney

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Cornwall, England, was a region with definite seasons. That was one of the reasons James and Meredith had decided to move there- James in particular was looking forward to having proper English winters again. But he knew it would be a new, possibly trying experience for daughter Lysander, so he'd told her it would be useful preparation for her planned career. A sailor needed to know how to cope with all sorts of weather.

This, however, was a fine June morning, and the combination of warm rays and ocean breeze was perfect for sunbathing. So Jack, currently visiting the Norrington's newly occupied farm, carried a beach towel to the highest knoll in the pasture to stretch out and enjoy it. His blissful soiree was interrupted when he detected the approach of light footfalls. Sparrow reached to his nearby shorts and shirt, as he quickly raised himself on one elbow.

A crowned platinum-green head turned to meet his stare. It was Jules, the green peacock owned by the folks at the next-over farm. The bird had limited comprehension of boundaries, so included the Norrington's property in his rounds. Nobody had any objection to this.

"Mornin', you walking cache box," Jack greeted. He studied the gold-and-beryl colored plumes, idly calculating what they'd be worth if they were real jewels. The beady avian eye mirrored his examination. Satisfied that Jack was neither foe nor prospective mate, Jules gave a feathery shrug and strutted off, his train bobbing like a skiff on a wake. Jack watched until the shimmering creature had vanished downslope, then settled back onto his towel, reveling in the sensations of sun and gentle wind.

A few minutes later he heard much heavier steps. These came to a halt at the knoll's edge, just beyond his sight.

"Are you decent, Sparrow?"

"I am decent, I also happen to be naked," Jack quoted.

"I'll give you a minute."

Jack tugged his clothes back on, grumbling a bit. James waited 'til he'd finished and sat up, before crossing the remaining distance.

"Must you do that, Sparrow?"

"Yes, I must! 'Have ta retain my Mediterranean-appropriate pigmentation. You should try it, cousin. The extra vitamin D might improve yer disposition."

James turned his face into the wind. "It is a nice breeze up here." With a small grin, James sat beside him on the beach towel. Jack noticed, with a mitigated pang, how the outdoor light underscored the new lines around James' eyes and mouth. He'd also acquired a few more gray hairs since the last time Jack had seen him. / I suppose that comes of bein' parent to a teenager./

"Perhaps I should come up here more often," Norrington murmured. Jack didn't need to ask why. For comfortable minutes they took in the view- the narrow strip of ocean, jagged green hedgerows, rock-studded pasture and sturdy rustic buildings. The house and barn below were fair enough, both constructed of close-placed brown stones, the latter topped with a decorative copper-roofed cupola.

A distant tattoo of hooves reached their ears. Through a gap in the pasture-border hedgerow they saw two horses speeding down the wooded trail. The shade obscured the rider's features, but there was no mistaking Pirate's ebony-brown hide, or Granuaile's spotted chestnut one. Nor, of course, the gray-and-tan missile following a safe distance behind.

Jack smiled approvingly. "You've done well choosin' Lysee's mount. Pirate's a right bonnie filly."

"And she's steady as rock. Name not withstanding, Pirate is consistently law-abiding."

"That is appropriate fer a beginning rider." Jack's memory flitted to a similarly reliable gold-and-black cow horse, racing across the Argentine plains. "An' Granuaile?"

"Also well-mannered. A gift from a neighbor who was obliged to move back to London and wanted to be sure his old mare went to someone who'd treat her well."

"I'd like to try one or the other sometime."

"You're most welcome to, but better wait 'til tomorrow. We don't want to risk overworking them."

They turned heads to watch the riders pass through a wider gap in the trees, Granuaile now in front. As Lysee barreled though, Jack felt a twinge at what was not there to be noticed.

"I rather miss those plaits." Even with forewarning, it had been a bit of a jolt when he'd first viewed Lysee's new hairstyle; a close layered cut barely longer than a boy's.

"I think she does too, though she'll never admit it. Their murder was a 'crime of impulse,'" James explained. "We knew she was in a bad mood that morning, but didn't expect what happened. We got home from shopping to find her in the kitchen with that jutted-chin look..."

"I know it."

"...and both braids on the counter, beside the knife she'd used to hack them off. I was quite appalled, but Mare spoke first. Calm as you please, she pronounced, 'Well, honey, it's your hair so I suppose it's your decision.'"

"Stole her thunder, eh?"

"She did. I took that as a cue to treat this as a mother-daughter matter and just started putting the groceries away. Lysee suddenly burst into tears, wailing that she'd cut them off because she didn't want to look like a little kid anymore, but she didn't think she'd look so ugly without them!

"Meredith handled that, too. She fetched scissors to trim the remnants so they'd at least be symmetrical, all the while reminding Lysee the hair would grow back, and she wouldn't have to braid it if she'd didn't want to. They could check the online hairstyle sites to pick something more suitable for her age bracket. That kid was well-behaved for a full two days afterwards."

"Ah, so theer was an up side."

James grimaced. "I'm not sure it was really worth the price. Given a choice between one or the other, I'd rather see her rebellious than miserable."

Jack nodded in wry agreement. "Guess ya have to expect some of that from a teen. She's establishin' her capacity fer independence- 'tis exhilaratin' an' frightenin' all at once. I suspect even you went through that transition."

"Of course. And it did include doing some things I knew my parents wouldn't approve of... though, as best I recall, that wasn't my specific motive for doing them." James shook his head. "I can't help worrying about her. How she could get badly hurt, in any of several ways, before she gets through this phase."

"That's a universal burden of parenthood. But the lass has inherited the family intelligence so'll probably steer clear of the rockiest straits." Jack added, "You do know I'll help with that, any way I can."

"I know, and I appreciate it." Norrington smiled sadly. "I can't deny a certain nostalgia for the days when I could make my little girl smile just by walking through the door."

"An' you will again, James. When she's grown up enough ta realize what exemplary parents she's got."

"So I keep telling myself." They fell into companionable silence. The two horses had passed out of hearing.

As his gaze strayed towards the barn, James remembered something. "There's a matter I meant to tell you about. This farm has a resident you haven't yet seen."

Jack made a show of counting off his fingers. "I was introduced ta Pirate an' Granuaile first. Since then I've made the acquaintance of Agnes, Claire, Barbara..."

"Just say 'the chickens', Sparrow."

"Aye, the omelet layers. An' I had a brief encounter with Jules, yer shared lawn ornament. What does that leave?"

"I should explain from the beginning. Let's start back." James eased to his feet and headed downhill towards the buildings. Jack snatched up the towel and accompanied him. "Last month I drove a rented lorry to Plymouth to fetch our furniture shipment... By the way, thank you for including the velvet settee'."

"I'm aware yer womenfolk fancy that bit o' frippery. So, what happened in Plymouth?"

"Just after I parked at the designated dock, I glimpsed a certain small animal running loose among the shipping containers. I asked a worker about it; he told me it'd been around for a week or so, presumably after escaping from a ship. He said it wasn't uncommon for such refugees to be lurking among the loading docks. Since this one was neither diseased-looking nor particularly valuable, nobody was much concerned.

"I turned attention to collecting my shipment and thought no more about it. That is, not until I'd returned home and started unloading the lorry..."

"Lemme guess- the critter had stowed away!"

"Exactly. I had no clue she was in there 'til I tugged out a crate and this furry bundle leapt out, almost into my face! My unexpected passenger streaked across the yard and vanished into our barn. Which is where she's been living ever since." The men were now entering the yard beside that very structure. "I'm mentioning it now because I suspect you'll be less than delighted the first time you spot her."

Jack found that last statement puzzling. "An' why would that be?"

They'd reached the mounting block beside the barn's main entrance. James paused and pointed upwards, towards what appeared to be a small black-and-white gargoyle perched on the corner of the shingled roof.

Jack looked. The gargoyle looked back, flicking a long tail.

"Buggerin' hell!" There was no mistaking that distinct facial ruff, or the impish grin. It was none other than Barbossa's monkey. "You've been toleratin' that perfidious primate on yer property?"

"We did make some unsuccessful attempts to trap her before we decided there was no real need. She doesn't do any harm, beyond the occasional filching of foodstuffs. Both horses seem to enjoy her company. And, being 'undead', it's most unlikely she's carrying anything a mortal could catch."

"I'm still surprised at you. Deliberately violatin' the quarantine laws!"

Norrington met Sparrow's eye squarely. "If you've given me a truthful account of that monkey's origin, this qualifies as a 'special situation.'"

"That it is." Jack was regarding the animal like something he'd scraped off his shoe, and she was returning the look. "Really, what are the odds that beastie would land up here!"

"I don't think it's coincidence. I believe she sneaked into my lorry because she recognized me from the Pasadena Mission, and deduced that, through me, she might find you again."

Jack looked incredulous. "Why do ya think the little maggot'd be remotely interested in locatin' me?"

"Because you, Jack Sparrow, are the only remaining fragment from her original life. You of all people should be able to understand the attraction that lends. Even to an enemy."

Sparrow's mouth twisted, the way it did when conceding something he'd rather not. His disdainful glare softened. The monkey followed suit, relaxing into a catlike crouch.

"On a related topic: I'd recommend you not berate her within my daughter's hearing. Lysander has been making a concerted effort to befriend that creature, offering her peanuts and such. She's named her Georgette."

"Georgette?"

"It was originally 'George', until I pointed out the gender."

"Oh." Jack scowled again. "Have you also told her what to expect the first time that critter strays into a moonbeam?"

"I've passed on that rumor, yes. Lysee is very much looking forward to confirming it."

"Might've known. Theer's no accountin' fer adolescent tastes."

"But Georgette hasn't been cooperating. She always hunkers down inside the cupola before nightfall. I think she knows how off-putting her 'singularity' is."

"Aye, the baggage is well aware of that! It stands ta reason she'd not risk alienating her current food source," Sparrow scoffed.

"And it's just possible she'd rather retain her new friend," James chided. "I've watched Lysee and Georgette interacting, and I'm convinced the affection is mutual. Mare's been doing some internet research on monkeys. In addition to being unusually intelligent, capuchins are noted for their readiness to bond with humans. That's why they're favored as trained aides for the handicapped."

"Humph."

James sighed. "Sparrow, at least have a look at the two together before you pass judgment. You might be pleasantly surprised. Or do you find it intolerable for Lysee to like anything you don't?"

"That's not it, James. The chit can befriend any manner of animal or ghost she wants to, so long as 'tis not a threat to her. Theer's the rub!"

"Having closely observed the situation, I believe Georgette does not pose threat to her. So does Mare. And Royal, and the horses."

"What about the chickens?"

"Their opinion is of no concern." Norrington glanced between pirate and primate. "As mentioned, I have some preparations to make, so I'll leave you two to get reacquainted. I'll look for you at lunch." The ex-commodore strode from the yard, following the flagstone path to the farmhouse.

Jack considered a bit, before moving to sit on the mounting block. For Lysander's sake he'd give this furry hellion a chance to meet him halfway. The monkey seemed to've made a similar decision, for she promptly shimmied down the barn's drain pipe and joined him, squatting on the block's other end with a 'Let's get this over with' grimace.

Jack humphed again, gaze straying to nothing. His memory drifted back, to the first time he'd ever seen this ...

... smelly bundle of unclean fur, clinging tightly to Barbossa's shirt front, glaring at the unsympathetic Captain. His First Mate had just returned from shore leave in Puerto Limón, and Sparrow was not happy about his acquired souvenir. Jack had a general dislike of animals aboard his ship, other than those headed for the dinner table.

A cat he could tolerate. Felines earned their keep with rat-catching, and carried out their excretory functions in a half-civilized manner (though Jack had evicted the last one for whelping her kittens in his shirt drawer, believing it more than generous of him to deliver the whole mewling lot to safe onshore locale.) But primates lacked any redeeming values whatsoever. This odious creature would invade every corner of his ship, chattering and dropping dung from stem to stern. He'd not endure such befoulment of his beautiful Pearl!

Barbossa had glowered, but made his counter arguments in a polite tone. He'd rescued this monkey from a bad situation; returning it was not an option. The objectionable smell would not last; he intended to clean the creature off and make reasonable efforts to keep it that way. He would control the body-functions problem by diapering the animal, even promising to clean up after any mishaps.

For the sake of their friendship (which may have still existed then), Jack had finally agreed to give it a trial run. His First Mate'd upheld his end of the deal, for most part. The diapering had occasionally proved inadequate, and Sparrow had followed each such mishap with creative suggestions for eliminating the feculent bugger. He'd also twitted Hector for always referring to the critter in the masculine, evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, and for dressing her to conceal said evidence (Barbossa seemed a bit self-conscious about having a female pet.)

Jack had considered these to be naught but ordinary jests. He hadn't appreciated then, that people were often disproportionately resentful of taunts directed at their companion animals. Not that Jack believed that, by itself, accounted for Barbossa turning mutinous... but it probably hadn't helped.

It was the day after the mutiny, though, when the monkey/Captain animosity had really solidified. Sparrow remembered it all too well...

... bound to the base of the mainmast, splinters gouging his back. Tight hemp biting his wrists and compressing bruised ribs, making every breath a trial. Continually blinking away the blood flooding his left eye from his slashed eyebrow. And the nauseating spectacle through that red haze... that hellspawn of a primate, grinning demonically as she waved a water flask before his nose, the sloshing sounds mocking the growing torment of his thirst... the cruel laughter of those thrice-damned betrayers, amused at her antics...

Present-day Georgette seemed to read his thoughts. She hung her head, emitting a few apologetic grunts. Jack's lip curled, not altogether inclined to accept. But he did push the bitter image aside, letting a fairer one take it's place...

... himself at the wheel of his just-regained Black Pearl, free wind whipping his hair and the sails, hurrying them towards Isla de Muerta. Surely the accumulated swag there would provide the wherewithal for him to eliminate his debt to Davy Jones...! Nobody had been more acutely disappointed than himself, when they arrived at the island coordinates to find nothing but floating rafts of debris. They crew had been checking these for anything worth salvaging, when something had sprung from the wreckage and scrambled up the Pearl's side and into the rigging. That screeching, hat-stealing infestation had been a thorn in his side through those desperate following months. Somehow the monkey knew Jack was responsible for her best friend's demise, and was determined to wreck whatever retaliation she could for it. One of the few bright spots in that interval had been delivering the unkillable imp into Tia Dalma's keeping.

For a long while afterwards, other enemies had loomed larger on his horizon. But once those were dispatched Barbossa had quickly reclaimed that title, depriving Jack of his hard-won ship yet again.

Ah, but he'd taken less than ten years to avenge himself for that second mutiny, hadn't he? A lot less...

... once again sailing his Pearl away from that irredeemably treacherous cur. Barbossa standing, stunned and dripping, on the Guadeloupe dock. At the time, Jack had only half-noticed something hurling from the rigging into the water. Or the small dark object crawling up the dock piling towards Hector, or the scarce-seen protrusion appearing on his former mate's shoulder. Not long after, the man had shrunk out of Jack's sight... for the very last time.

Two years later Barbossa was dead on the deck of the Carthage, killed in a savage fight against the marines who'd ambushed him. Though he hadn't witnessed it, Jack was certain the old pirate's pet had been there- unquestionably the only crewmember who'd escaped alive. In the midst of all that carnage, nobody would've noticed a bereaved little monkey slipping over the side.

Where she'd spent the years between then and 1934, Sparrow could only guess. Perhaps in Latin America. Glimpses of her in the moonlight might possibly account for the legend of the Chupacabra. He had no way to be sure of it, nor whether her life had been hard or easy. But when they'd had their chance encounter in Pasadena, her response to James' offered apple had told Jack one thing. The centuries had not erased her memories of, or high regard for, the human who'd rescued her from a 'bad situation'. It may have been the only selfless deed Barbossa had ever committed, but something remembered him for it.

And now here she was, sitting uneasily beside the former nemesis who was also her one remaining link to her years as Hector Barbossa's beloved companion. Mr. Norrington was correct; Jack could sympathize with her dilemma.

Sparrow eyed the perched simian with grudging respect. Whatever else, he had to commend the creature for her loyalty. Perhaps it wouldn't kill him to say so...

The monkey jumped in place, chattering excitedly. Thudding hooves announced the womens' return from their morning gallop.

Lysee appeared first, reining Pirate to a walk as she steered towards the mounting block. "Hi, Jack! Hi Georgette!"

"Greetings, lass!" Sparrow was already getting used to that boyish haircut. Not like it was a bad look on her. The snorting Granuaile, with her longer-tressed rider, trotted in next. A panting and happy Royal brought up the rear.

As Lysee drew up to the block, Georgette bounded directly onto her saddle horn. Pirate, true to James' description, did nothing beyond shaking her slender black muzzle. Lysee spared one hand to stroke the monkey's back as the long tail encircled her waist.

Mare pulled her spotted mount alongside, smiling down at Jack. "Oh, good! You are able to tolerate Georgette's proximity."

The monkey was snuggled against Lysee's shirt front, making little pleased whimpers. Jack couldn't believe it was entirely feigned. Royal sauntered over, looking up with doggy approval. That mutt was a demonstrably good judge of human character; perhaps Jack could trust his assessment of other primates too.

Lysander mentioned, "Dad said it would probably take a while before you liked her, 'cause you used to have a monkey aboard your ship that made trouble."

"That could be said." Georgette had the grace to hide her face in the shirt folds.

Lysee kept hold of the simian as she dismounted and handed the reins to her Mom, who led both horses into the barn. The lass dug into a shirt pocket for some shelled peanuts, which Georgette eagerly accepted and devoured.

/ That's one preference we share,/ Jack considered. "You do know she's fond of apples."

"I know she likes getting them. She doesn't always eat them. Sometimes she just takes them up to the cupola."

"Perhaps she enjoys their smell." Jack eyed that little mason structure "You'll have to provide more weather-resistant accommodations for her, come winter."

"I know that! Dad wants to build something for her in the barn, but I think inside the house would be better. Don't you think it'd...?"

Jack raised both hands. "Lass, you know I don't like ta get involved in family disputes!"

"Lysee! Time to rub down the horses!"

"Coming, Mom!" The girl transferred her pet to the mounting block, where she resumed her feline pose. "Georgette really is friendly once you get to know her. Just give her a chance!" Lysee spun on her boot heel and followed her mother into the barn. Royal solemnly seated himself beside the block, like a judge presiding over a court of law.

Jack blew on his mustache again. For a long moment he regarded the curled capuchin, now looking quite contrite and harmless. "Yer conductin' yerself well with the lass. I do regard that as a point in yer favor." The monkey seemed to understand. She reclined onto her back, cheekily showing her teeth.

"Georgette... you are agreeable ta that moniker?" She chirped in a tolerant manner. "Here's how I see it, Georgette. Whatever our conflicts an' differences, we do have one thing in common beyond a taste fer peanuts. Both of us desire the good opinion an' continued companionship of Lysander Anne Norrington." The monkey grunted confirmation. "So, we can set one of two courses. We can continue our habitual animosities, at the risk that Lysee will someday be obligated ta reject one or the other of us." To his gratification, the monkey didn't seem to like that idea- her brow wrinkled worriedly. / I probably would have the edge theer. /

"Or, we can decide that, whatever offenses we may've previously committed against each other, theer too far in the past ta be of concern now. 'Least not to the point of defining our relationship. In other words: 'tis in our mutual interest ta try ta get along. What say you?" The creature tilted her head, apparently mulling it over. Then she quite deliberately rolled back into a sitting position, her stare meeting his as she nodded. "Then we have an accord?"

Georgette raised one dark arm- the selfsame gesture she'd made in response to a far older inquiry. Jack recollected that moment... one of a few when he hadn't felt like wringing that impudent simian neck. "Had you really missed me?"

The monkey bared her teeth again, in a not-unfriendly manner. "Saucy imp," Jack muttered in a similar tone. The two slapped palms.

Royal's tail thumped like a judge's gavel.

xxx

FINIS

xxx

"I am decent, I also happen to be naked" is a quote from the play 'The Goodbye Girl', by Neil Simon.

The Chupacabra (Latin for 'Goat Sucker') is an unconfirmed small predator, allegedly native to Central and South America, with a penchant for sucking blood from livestock. It's been described as cat-sized, black and skinny, with oversized claws and fangs... rather similar to a certain moonlit monkey in CotBP.