Chapter 37 : In the eye of the beholder

The Pearl!

He felt a grin form, stretching ear to ear, the joy of the sighting sending shocks along every nerve ending. The Pearl had found him. He should not have doubted her.

Ten years they had been separated, ten years of plotting and planning and grieving at every bloody raid he had heard of. The Pearl had deserved a better fate than tattered sails and infamy, and he had been unable to help her, just as he had been unable to help when Beckett... No he would not think of Beckett, or of Jones, not now. They were gone, all that stood between him and his ship now was a stretch of green water and one very human pirate, and Barbossa would discover that Jack Sparrow had learnt a lot in those ten years.

But it was clear that the Pearl did not intend it to be another ten years of parting. He should have trusted her, and for a moment he was ashamed that he had not. They had escaped the locker together and it was obvious that she intended that they would be together again. He would not make her wait.

He scanned the shoreline impatiently, but there was no boat there. Still he couldn't expect it, she had found him here but she couldn't force the crew to come and get him. No matter, the distance wasn't great and he'd swum further. A little effort and her decks would be beneath his feet again, her ropes beneath his hands, and he would not lose her another time.

With a laugh he set off across the sand, shedding those things that would slow him down as he went. There was a moment of sudden doubt as he knotted his sash around his sword, he'd better know where to find them once he had the Pearl back, a feeling that there was something else he needed to take care of. But the memory eluded him, all that shone in his mind was the recollection of the loss that was about to be washed away. With a final flourish he tied the knot and headed out across the remaining sand towards the water and his waiting lady.

***

On the waters the Lady stood alone and still, the shadow of her hat hiding her frown even though there was no one to see it. She could feel Calypso in the world beyond, but knew that the sea goddess has spoken no less than the truth when she said she could be of no help here, for these waters had passed beyond her reach long ago. Passed beyond the reach of all but the old ones and they too were long gone, and even their legacy was failing now. Failing perhaps, but not fast enough for the changing world outside.

There was little that even she could do here, the old ones had set down the rules and she could not change them, though given her intentions she would not do that even if she could. But the game would never be more perilous than it was at this moment, if they survived the machinations if the silver blue cloud they would be prepared for what remained to be done, but they might yet fail. Her captain slept, wrapped in dreams, while Calypso's captain wandered, a lost soul, along roads she could not fathom. Danger stalked them both but he was in greatest peril, for his loss was most recent and so the wounds still raw for all his smiles and playacting.

She could not see what he saw but she could read the yearning in him, the longing for that which was gone. She could feel them coming but she could do nothing to stop them, and if they caught him alone and unawares, trapped beyond the safety of land, then he would be lost.

The Lady watched as he advanced upon the waterline, if he ventured beyond his depth then she would lose him. But she was not helpless; none were less so, for of all of them she was not restrained by rule or allegiances. She stared past Jack to her sleeping captain and spread her fan, watching the images there shift for a moment before she turned her head back towards the advancing man, and the sleeping woman he was leaving behind, and smiled.

***
Elanor had been dreaming, she had been back in her early days in the navy, on her first sea voyage as an officer. The dream had been vivid and bitter sweet, the familiar faces so real, the events so well recalled; and yet as she had drifted across the decks and through the corridors some part of her had known that it was a dream. Known too what was to come and the sadness that was waiting, the sadness of a loss that would never be forgotten however many there had been since then, or were yet to come.

A cascade of dirt and pebble woke her, another clout of earth disturbed by the shifting in the forest above sending a shower of debris to the sand before landing there beside her with a dull thud. The sound dragged her from sleep, from the past to the present. She sat up slowly and looked around for Jack, realising with a surge of something close to panic that she could not see him. It seemed that her guard had deserted her at the first opportunity.

Elanor struggled to get to her feet, her joints protesting as if she had been sleeping for hours in a draught, a heaviness in her limbs that suggested that her sleep had been very deep. Running a hand over her eyes she struggled to throw off her lethargy.
'I'm was a fool' she told herself! Why did I believed him when he said that he would stay? He wanted the fountain so very badly, why should I believed that he would have the sense to wait for me?'
If half his stories had even a grain of truth in them then he had no reason to rely on any one but himself, so why had she been fool enough to assume that he would trust her to see him through this! No doubt he thought that he could do it better alone, and, for all his words about safety, in the end that need had mattered more than her well being.

Elanor raised her head to stare across the sand, a little worm of doubt uncurling itself in her mind and swamping the anger. This place might well take the choice from him, from either of them come to that. She looked up at the spar of rock above her, and then back up to where the hanging forest waited, shrouded in mist. The worm became a snake and her anxiety grew, though she couldn't say how or why some part of her had become certain that what was happening to them here was not random. Jack might not have realised that he was leaving her.

Either way he was gone and she would have to look to both their safety because she doubted that the place was finished with either of them yet, whatever it was about. With a sigh she scanned the finger of rock, the nearest ledge was little more than three feet above the level of her head and there were folds aplenty to use, with another sigh she flexed her fingers and began the scramble up. From there it was a little climb to the next shelf and then a steep walk up to the lowest part of the backbone of this outcrop. In the dim light she could barely see across this division of the beach to the next rock spar and she hadn't really expected to see him, for there was no way of knowing how long since he left and he could be half way around the lake by now.

But he had not gone far.

Jack had shed his baldric, boots and pistols, leaving them as a forlorn looking little pile on the moonshine sand, his sword was standing proud beside them, point buried in that sand, his sash tied around its hilt. The owner of these discarded effects was striding down the beach obviously headed for the water, walking with what could only described as a joyful swagger in his step, his head cocked and with his eyes locked on something out in the lake. Elanor scanned the lake but all she could see was water, and, as the mist thinned a little for a moment, somewhere in the distance a column of black rock. She rubbed her eyes, not quite believing what she was seeing, but there seemed no doubts that he was heading for the water, and little doubt that he was intending to swim out to something he thought that he could see. Jack was good swimmer but the water looked to be cold, and even if it wasn't why would he suddenly decide to swim when there was nothing and no where for him to swim too? Wearily she folded her knees and sat, it might cause less trouble to let him get on with whatever he thought he was about than risk his annoyance at being prevented. She would wait.

Then her last conversation with Ariadne before they left came into her mind.

"The map indicates the water of life, not the fountain of youth. "Ariadne had almost sounded concerned, uncertain even, "the difference may mean nothing or it may mean everything."
"You mean that there may be two artefacts there?" she had asked.
"Perhaps, though that seems unlikely." The words seemed to come unwillingly as if Ariadne did not want to speculate. Which was unlikely. But then Ariadne had seemed a little strange these last few weeks, which was, of itself, more than a little bizarre.

Elanor had sat on the edge of the console, swinging her leg as she thought around the implications
"Or one thing that has acquired more than one name," she said finally.
"Yes. That seems more likely." Ariadne still sounded uneasy.
"Which means. anything important do you think?"
"That depends upon which description is more accurate in the long term. Also the degree to which it is truly accurate."
"Riddles Ariadne? That's not like you, but then you sound as if the whole business causes you more problems than it should."
"Define problems." Ariadne did not sound as dismissive as Elanor would have wished.

She thought about that for a moment,
"What is it that makes you so hesitant about your conclusions?" she asked eventually.
Ariadne was silent for a moment as if debating what to say,
"There is too little known about the mind set of the people who named it. Or indeed of the people who drew the map. There are .. features of the map that warn that taking care in coming to conclusions about it would be advisable."
The replies were coming more slowly than usual, if she hadn't known better she would have assumed that Ariadne was worried.
"Specifically?" Elanor prompted,
"What did they mean by life or youth. The water of life could mean many things after all."
Elanor sighed, she had already spent more than one disturbed night thinking about that fact,
"I know. It could mean that it gives it or it might not. It might mean that it animates the inanimate, or brings back the dead. Or even that it absorbs life, takes it to itself."
If Ariadne could have nodded she would have done so,
"Yes, that possibility is of particular concern, yet it is a valid interpretation of the words. The illustration on the original map does not help in determining the meaning of the name, for though it shows life and death touching it does not indicate which way the exchange, for want of a better term, is."
"Which might mean that they simply assumed that it was life to death, or that they knew it was and expected every other reader of the map to do the same or it might mean something more threatening."
"Yes. Or it may mean that it can run either way depending upon conditions we have no knowledge of, but that they assumed the map reader would have."

Elanor rubbed a hand over her eyes,
"It gets worse! I shouldn't have agreed to this. If everything here is a hallucination I must have one hell of a fever!"
She drew a deep breath,
"So do I back out? He'll go alone if I do and I'm not sure that I could stand back and watch him do it. Gibbs will go with him whatever I decide and I'm not sure I am willing to lose the pair of them."
She sighed,
"Actually I know I'm not willing to lose either of them. Jack can be a.. challenge, but I've grown used to him. He's trying to avoid rubbing me up the wrong way and in the circumstances I'm not sure I can expect more than that. Certainly he's done nothing that warrants me leaving him to die. Even if he wants me to."
"I had noticed that he has become less confrontational since you returned from Tortuga."
Elanor gave a small chuckle,
"He's given up trying to shock me. Being captain means a lot to him and I think he's accepted me as such. Jack seems to judge people by what they can do, rather than what they are. Maybe it's a pirate thing, maybe it's just him, I don't know enough to tell which. Either way, I'm not letting him go alone, which means either I go to or I hit him over the head, lock him below decks and get the hell out of here before he manages to break the door down!"
Ariadne had been silent for a moment, but when she spoke again she astonished Elanor.
"Assuming you could leave here if you wish to."

Elanor stared at the console,
"Why wouldn't I be able to?"
Ariadne seemed to think about what she said next,
"It was remarkably difficult to find this place. Almost as if it is not usually here to be found. The scanners show no shipping in the vicinity at all; in fact they are showing nothing of the world beyond a few miles out. It is almost as if we are in some form of bubble that separates us from the rest of the world."
"What! How long has that been the case?"
Ariadne ignored that comment, again something unusual, and continued,
" While this makes it more likely that this is all a fevered construct produced by your mind that does not mean that it won't obey certain rules, and there is no way of knowing what will happen if we try to break them. But it seems likely that if your subconscious wishes us to be here, as it must, then here we will stay here until its objective is achieved."
"And if it's not my mind generating this place?"
"Then it may be that we are here for a reason and we will not be allowed to leave this island until we have achieved what is intended."

Elanor was silent while she absorbed that idea.
"So you don't think that we can leave?"
"I think that there is a distinct possibility that we could not. Or that we would find ourselves returning here one way or another even if we did manage to get away."
"In which case we might as well avoid the wasted effort and get on with it."
"Yes, which might be what we are intended to assume of course."
"Ariadne, stop it! You are giving me a headache."
There was silence for a moment, then she sighed and shrugged,
"So we go on, do you have any advice about how we proceed?"
"With extreme caution,"
"Naturally. With Jack around anything else would be suicide any way. Any thing else?"
Ariadne seemed to hesitate but eventually she responded,
"I would advise that you take nothing for granted while you are there. I would also strongly caution you to drink nothing other than the fluids you take with you and to avoid any contact with any body of water you may find. While we do not know the true meaning of its name any fountain or water of any kind must be assumed to be dangerous."

Now, far from being cautious, Jack was striding towards a very large body of water with the apparent intention of submerging himself in it.

Elanor sprang to her feet and slithered her way back down to the sands, suddenly sure that she must not let him do anything of the sort. Catching up her backpack she set off after him calling his name as she went, but he carried on apparently oblivious to her presence. The sand was soft and deep and it made walking hard, let alone running, yet she would have sworn that she was moving faster than he was, fast enough to catch him before he made the water's edge, yet he was there before she had closed the gap between them at all.
"Jack! Jack!" her voice echoed across the sands between them but he ignored her.
He was on the edge now, his face turned towards the horizon, his step still jaunty and his intentions clear.

She struggled to increase her pace but it was not enough and, as she ran, she saw him step out across that shifting divide and into the water beyond. The still surface swirled around his feet and ankles as he stood for a moment as if unsure, then he was wading, the water rising to his knees, then his thighs. There was no wave or spray only the steady creep of the water up his clothes, there was something almost stealthy about it she found herself thinking. Jack seemed unaware of anything other than his unseen target. Without noticing she had left the dry sand behind and was on the wet, her heels sending clods flying behind her, the thuds as they fell drowned out by her own heavy breathing.

Now he was hip deep in water and she saw him lean forward arms extended to push away from the shore. With one last spurt she too threw caution to the winds and crossed the divide between land and water, reaching down and catching at his ankle as the water rose over his shoulders and tightened like a noose about his neck.

***

"Why does Sparrow exert such a fascination for them all?"

They had sought out the woman called Scarlett when they had left Giselle, finding her in a place that called itself a hotel and in company with a prosperous looking and youngish man with a swelling belly. She had been regaling him with tales of their quarry when they found her, like Giselle it seemed that acquaintance with Sparrow was both part of her stock in trade and a large part of her security too. More than one person lingered by their table to listen for a while and, though she was clearly not a lady, no one made any move to detach Scarlett from her mark nor to eject her from what appeared to respectable premises; by the standards of Tortuga that was. Hathaway wondered what action Sparrow had taken in the past that allowed these two, his favourite women, to live with something that appeared to be close to safety in such a place. Somehow he thought it might have been both violent and bloody, certainly unfriendly, and reminded himself again that, though neither murder nor rape appeared on his charge sheet, Sparrow had survived ten years or more as a pirate and was therefore no milksop by any one's reckoning.

They had taken seats behind the pair in an alcove usually used for illicit meetings, which if they were seen the observer might well believe they were engaged in, and listened to the tales unobserved. It was soon clear that like Giselle the woman had not seen Sparrow for some time. As the wine flowed and the man's head moved closer to the flame hair of Giselle's rival and friend, they rose and left, sidling out of the back door towards the pissplace as if their only concern was finding anonymous darkness.

Now they were sitting on a wall in the shadow of a worm eaten shack on the edge of the mudflat, and Groves was longing to be somewhere else. Yet they had another two days before the Intrepid would look for them, which meant at least one more day in this god-forsaken place. Hathaway seemed less bothered and his reply and accompanying shrug was lazy,
"He's a pirate Lord. Then there is the fact that he has a large reward on his head, that alone means that he is a person of some distinction in their eyes. They follow his affaires in the same way, and for the same reason, that the ladies and gentlemen of society read the court circular with their chocolate each morning. His doings add some vicarious glamour to their lives. Jack Sparrow and others like him are their aristocracy, they are people of note and will do things and go places many of the people here will never do or see for themselves."
"So all pirates get the same interest?"
"Probably not all. But the ones who last more than a year or so without dancing at the end of the rope will attract interest I should think, though possibly not to the same degree. Sparrow is a somewhat colourful character after all, apparently clever, educated and audacious. Flamboyant and fair of face too from what I hear of him, he will have a special cachet in their minds I expect, and attract more interest as a result of that."
Hathaway stared up at the sky through the tossing leaves of a dusty palm, watching as that wind sent clouds hurrying between the stars,
"Though recent events will have further sharpened their interest." He added thoughtfully.

Groves cringed inside himself,
"Because of Beckett you mean?"
"Yes, and Jones. The stories are bound to have reached here by now."
"You mean that everyone will know, about the heart? But if they do then we have no hope!"
Hathaway smiled slightly,
"Oh no, I would doubt that they know much of that. Beckett will have kept the knowledge of that to a small group of people, only those he couldn't hide it from." He rolled his head to one side and looked kindly at the other man in the fitful moonlight, "and as you well know most of them are dead, either on the Dutchman herself or when the Endeavour went down. Those that survived are either back in the navy fold or prisoners somewhere, probably Singapore."

Groves though about that then drew a deep breath,
"The battle then?"
"Yes they will certainly have heard of that, and I doubt that any one other than Jack Sparrow figures strongly in the stories. Which is one reason their interest in him is so strong at the moment. After all it was only the Black Pearl that went to battle in the end, so the glory, as they see it, belongs to her and her captain. Sparrow's stock will be running high at the moment."
Hathaway picked up a small stone and bounced it across the dusty lane and against the crumbling wall opposite,
"They won't know about the heart but the stories of Jones will continue to circulate for some time."
Groves frowned in the direction of the stone,
"Will that matter?"
"No, I expect they are already getting more than a little wild. If Sparrow and Gibbs lay low for much longer then they will get so outrageous that the truth of it will be lost for ever."
"So we still have time?"
"Let us hope so."

Above them a thicker cloud had shut out some of the stars, and as he looked up Groves could see that others were racing in to join it.
"There is a storm on the way."
"Yes, and in more ways than one. Best make our way back to the lodging house, tomorrow we need to turn our attention to who else is looking for him." Hathaway got to his feet and frowned, "but I'll not deny it worries me that we have heard no word of his whereabouts. I was nearly sure that we would find that he had taken a ship and gone after the Black Pearl, but it would seem that he found no ship here."
Groves made a half hearted effort to brush the new layer of dust from his breeches, but straightened as the first fat drop of rain landed heavily in the cartwheel ruts.
"Do you think he is dead?"
"I don't know."
"Will it matter if he is?"
"That depends on if others can be brought to believe that he is, but without a body that might be hard to do. Alive or dead he might yet bring war upon us unless we can find some evidence of him, and even if we do they may not believe he has not passed the heart, or whatever it is that he holds over Jones, on to someone else." A harsh note entered Hathaway's voice, "It appears that Beckett's treachery may cost yet more lives."

Deep in thought the two men wandered back down the road towards the quay.

***

Never had she been more grateful for her inheritance than at that moment, for had she been of this time and place he would have kicked free of her and struck out towards the centre of the lake. But her grip was strong, and though his convulsive movement wrenched her shoulder she held him, only to watch with horror as his head dipped below the level of the water for a moment. All she could do was pray that instinct took over and he didn't swallow any!

"Let me go!" he hissed, "I'll not let Barbossa get away with her again!"
Elanor held on to his ankle as he kicked back at her,
"With what?" She gasped as she pulled him back, dragging him like a landed fish further towards the shore.
He twisted in her grip again turning over and landing on his hands and knees in the water.
"Me ship o'course."
"What ship?" Still she was towing him back towards the beach.
Now he began to fight her in earnest, sending water and sand flying up into her face.
"Damn you woman, The Pearl. Can you not see her?" he panted as he pulled against her.
"No I can't. There's nothing there Jack!"
That brought another convulsive movement that almost landed her beside him in the water.
"Then look! There's nothing wrong with my eyesight and I can see her plain as I can see you."
Elanor grunted and shifted to tighten her grip on him, glad that he'd shed his boots and there was no risk of him slipping them and wriggling free.
"There's no ship there I tell you! You are seeing what this place wants you to see," she panted.

There was a sound like escaping steam as Jack scowled at her, but she thought she saw the first sliver of uncertainty in his face,
"And why would it want me to see the Pearl if she's not here!"
"I don't know. But how could she be here Jack? In an underground mountain in water that hasn't seen the sea in centuries?"
His scowl deepened further and he kicked more violently,
"She's here I tell you. Why won't you let me go? Haven't you imprisoned me long enough!"
Elanor nearly let go of him with the shock of that, but one look at the strained face draped with soaking braids told her that he meant it, for the moment at least. She gritted her teeth and wished she understood what was going on here.
"Imprisoned you?" she panted. "It's your choice we are here not mine. You could have stayed in Tortuga."
He shook his head vigorously,
"Not with the Pearl gone. I must find her and make it right."
He stopped fighting suddenly, sitting in the water looking up at her with sorrow in his face.
"Twice I've sent her down. Twice she has died for me. No ship should sink below the sea twice. Don't you see? But she has forgiven me, she's here and I must take her back from Barbossa. You who captain a fine ship yourself, can you not see that I cannot lose her a third time?" There was desperation in his voice, "Please! Please let me go and claim her."

This was closest she had ever seen him come to pleading and she felt a stab of sorrow for him, and though she still held him firmly her voice was soft as she replied,
"Jack The Pearl isn't there! Look."
He didn't take his eyes from hers,
"Please." implored once more.
She shook her head sadly,
"I can't Jack, you saved me from it would you have me do any less for you?" she met the desperate eyes with a sinking heart, wondering what it would cost him to see the truth, this place had not chose the image of his ship lightly, "please look again Jack, your ship isn't there."

For a long moment he just stared at her then his shoulders slumped and reluctantly he turned to look back to the direction of the Pearl.

She was still there her canvas tidy, the black lines of her masts clear against the silver blue light, but as he watched the angle of her hull shifted, the prow rising up as she began to slip beneath the waters one further time.

Jack stared at her in disbelief, the sight of her sending waves of hurt and anger through him, a feeling that found out the newly healed places in his mind and tore, blade like through the joins. For a moment there was panic as he felt the parts separate, spinning away from each other, leaving channels of dark space between them, the separate fragments coming to rest as islands in a dark sea. Dark seas surrounded by sands so white they hurt his eyes. One part, stranded by the widest beach turned in anguish towards Elanor where she lay sleeping by the rock and screamed at her to wake and help him. She did not hear.

Then the voices arguing with each other, each one trying to shout the others down as that anguished part struggled to make itself heard, putting hands over ears to block out the strident calls of the others. He was losing her again, and with her he was losing himself. He screamed at the sky and tried to free himself from the Kraken's hold, but the tentacle held fast. The water was around his head now, the taste of blood and salt in his mouth, that and the bitter taste of failure.

The tentacle gripped tighter towing him down towards the depths. Spluttering he reached for his sword but it was gone, knocked from his hand. The others were gone, in the having of him the beast would leave him alone, so that only left Elanor and he if he screamed loudly enough then she would wake and escape.
'But she cannot be here.' The soft voice of the tattoed Jack separated itself from the hulaballo and whispered in his ear, 'if this is the Kraken then she cannot be here, and if she exists at all then the Kraken is gone, and so is Jones and Beckett.'
Jack looked up to see the man, the self, that he had run through staring at him with patient eyes, hand extended, 'if she exists then that cannot be the Pearl and you are yourself again and I can return to where I belong.'
Jack looked into his own smile, saw kindness in the familiar eyes and reached for the hand.

The hand that gripped his was not his own, though it was as strong and steady, and the face that he now saw was that of the woman he had thought sleeping. He did not need to look to know that the Pearl was gone. With a sigh he allowed her to pull him to his feet.