'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney
xxx
"I hope that was as good for you as it was fer me, James."
"I concede it was as hedonistically delightful as you promised, Jack. I've rarely yielded to temptation that willingly. Or savored the results so much."
"And bloody well about time! We should make a point of doin' this every Christmas."
Norrington and Sparrow were emerging onto East 60th Street, exiting the narrow and opulently decorated 'Serendipity 3' restaurant. They'd both just partaken of that establishment's signature dessert; the 'Frrozen Hot Chocolate'- a generous-sized cream-topped intensely-flavored chocolate slurry, notorious for reducing customers to states of blissful stupor. Norrington was fighting off that effect even now.
The former pirate's hand rose to hail a cab. James' reached to stay it. "No need for that. I'm in rather acute need of a constitutional."
Grinning, the smaller man tugged James to the right. "No problem, cousin. Central Park's thisaway."
They proceeded down the busy urban thoroughfare. Norrington tightened the hood of his navy-blue parka, noting the swirls of powdery snow skittering over the sidewalk. He marveled that Jack, in a boldly patterned black-and-red ski jacket, could stand to leave his head uncovered. Cold wind played with his elflocked hair- which, at James' suggestion, he'd allowed to grow longer than shoulder-length. Norrington had discarded any concern it would make Sparrow too conspicuous in New York City; 'dreds' and gold teeth were practically staid, compared to some other styles he'd observed here. That tall woman in the hooded robe fashioned from dyed bedsheets (or some such things) was just one example.
Jack regarded his companion merrily. "So, how do you like Winter in the northeastern United States?"
"I can tolerate it." He'd have to. Next month Norrington would begin his training at the US Coast Guard Academy, in New London Connecticut. One purpose of this holiday trip was to begin his adjustment to this region's decisively non-Caribbean climate. "I'm somewhat more concerned about handling conversations with classmates that stray into subjects relating to popular culture. But I'm making progress. By my estimate I have at least partial comprehension of about ninety-five percent of such references."
"An' the other five percent?"
"Those I can usually cover with polite nodding. I always try to look them up later." He glanced back towards the restaurant. "For instance, I overheard a comment in there about a 'Mr. Ed', which I was quite unable to fathom."
Jack smirked, not unkindly. "Mr. Ed was the title character in an early TV sitcom about a horse with the power of speech."
"Ah. Now it makes sense."
They crossed Fifth Avenue to the Park's southeastern entrance, and went in. Norrington liked the place even in it's current leafless condition. It was pleasingly similar to Hyde Park in London, except for sporting a greater abundance of large rocks. The two strolled along winding paved pathways, among the several ponds, small bridges and underpasses, working off their theobromine-induced lethargy. A number of other strollers were also there, some conversing in German or Japanese. Sparrow had said that Manhattan Island always got a major influx of visitors in December. Many came for one-day shopping excursions. Others, such as themselves, rented rooms to spend the holidays in the city.
Eventually James and Jack emerged from the same entrance. Norrington expected they'd turn right, towards the Plaza Hotel- that imposing green-roofed white box of a building where they were staying for the week. But Sparrow continued southward, past the rows of photo-sellers and horse-drawn cabs and into the deep concrete canyon of the shopping district. Norrington strode to catch up with him. "Where are we heading now?"
"Rockefeller Center. As mentioned, 'tis only a short walk from here."
"I thought our tickets were for the evening show."
"Aye, but there's something else to look at there. And I thought you might enjoy the en-route mercantile displays that Fifth Avenue is famous for. 'Tis all for the purpose of persuading folks to buy, which some consider disrespectful to the holiday's original meaning. On the plus side, they do put up some coruscatingly pretty spectacles!"
Norrington thought of remarking that probably sat well with Sparrow's priorities, but decided this wasn't an apt occasion for snark. Anyway, James couldn't be certain it was true. The ex-buccaneer sometimes revealed unexpected depths.
The first couple of blocks made it clear Jack hadn't been exaggerating. Shoppers were numerous and voluminous, what with their sizable bags and bulky winter wear. Recorded holiday songs provided constant background noise- usually more than one at a time. James would occasionally recognize a melody from his own century, but most were of more-recent origin, and all too many were treacly ditties about thumpity snowmen or red-nosed venison.
So he tried to distract himself by giving primary attention to the window displays. An amazing assortment of things glittered, flashed and moved; some overly-cute (teddy bears serenading and steering gondolas through a miniaturized Venice), or just peculiar (twirling dancers fashioned from jumbled coat hangers), but many were whimsical, festive, and sometimes eerily beautiful (a white satin dress on a white-haired mannequin accompanied by a snow-white peacock against a white-glitter background.) James was still struck by the numerous whole evergreen trees- usually artificial, occasionally real- always hung with abundances of shiny objects. Jack had explained that decorating conifers at Christmas was originally a German custom, which British monarch Queen Victoria had observed in deference to her German consort, Prince Albert. During her 1837-1901 reign the practice became popular throughout the English-speaking world. Nowhere more so than in 'the Colonies.'
James paused to study one particularly appealing example beside a menswear display; a dark green specimen decked with midnight-blue globes and white lace snowflakes between draped strings of silver beads. Admirably coordinated, with sufficient sparkle to please a pirate if Jack's stare was any indicator.
"I think we should accept the Plaza's offer to put a tree in our suite, if it isn't too late," James mentioned.
"Nowhere near too late! They can take care of it while we're attending the Radio City show. Would you prefer to have the installers hang the ornaments or leave 'em for us to do?"
"The latter. And I definitely want a real tree! There's no substitute for that fragrance." At Jack's quizzical look, Norrington elaborated. "When I was a boy, my family spent every Christmas at Uncle Daniel's country estate. One of the first things we'd do after arrival was go into the nearby woods to cut evergreen boughs to decorate the parlor. The smell of pine pitch always brings back agreeable memories of those visits."
"What else would you whelps get up to?"
"There were outdoor activities; sledding, sleigh rides... I first learned to skate on the little pond there. The maid always served us hot chocolate when we came in. After dark the whole family would play parlor games. On Christmas Day was the feast- roast goose with chestnuts, or boar's head. Macaroons, oranges, stockings full of..."
James hesitated, for it occurred to him this might sound tactless. Jack's childhood celebrations were unlikely to have included nearly so many amenities.
Sparrow apparently deduced his misgivings. "'Twas a favored day for me, too. So many churches'd be givin' away their bestest grub- white breads an' ginger cookies, sometimes even a bit of meat. Mum and I would go to as many giveaways as we could, collecting edibles at each stop. Come evenin' we'd sit down an' have our most fulsome meal of the year. Bein' able to eat 'til I was fit to burst was more pleasurable 'en anythin' I could've plucked from a stocking."
They were coming alongside a stoutish matron in a long black coat, clanging a small bell beside a suspended red kettle. James wordlessly took out his wallet and deposited every bill he had into the kettle. The woman's sweet-voiced "God bless you!" was soothing as any pine balm. Jack also made a contribution before they continued down the avenue.
"Speaking of churches, I assume they still conduct Christmas services?"
"That they do. Right theer's an establishment which does brisk business this season."
Jack pointed diagonally across the street. Norrington would not have expected such a building here: a full-sized neo-gothic cathedral. In almost any other location it would have loomed large- even here, dwarfed by all looming commerce structures, it managed to look impressive.
"That's the Cathedral of Saint Patrick. Papist, of course, but anyone's allowed ta enter so long as they show proper respect. I've observed all manner of folk stepping inside ta gape at the decor, or light a candle as a gesture of beseechment fer whatever cause concerns them... hedgin' theer bets, as it were." Sparrow spoke without disparagement, looking thoughtfully to James. "You never did mention yer own denominational leanings. Were you hankering to go to a Mass?"
"Not specifically. My parents were Quakers and I was raised one. I haven't kept to it as well as Mother would have preferred. Neither have I abandoned it," James explained. "As it happens, I have, twice, attended a Mass. I sneaked into one on a boyhood dare. From the way Father talked about Catholic ceremonies I was expecting an almost pagan spectacle- needless to say, I was sorely disappointed. I did think the incense smelled nice."
"I have some partiality fer it meself. An' the second time?"
"A shipmate invited me to attend Christmas Mass with him in Edinburgh. I decided, as every cleric in Christendom would be preaching on the same subject that day, it would make no difference which church I went to."
"Sounds reasonable ta me."
"I actually found that experience rather moving. Latin chants have definite grandeur." Norrington glanced at Jack, almost challengingly. "Dare I inquire how many church services you've been to?"
"More 'en you might suppose, mate. I've even conducted a few."
Something twanged in James' memory. "Whilst 'Impersonating a cleric of the Church of England'?"
Sparrow's reply was matter-of-fact. "It was a matter of survival, James. I had an urgent an' intractable need to keep out of sight of certain vindictive personages. 'Didn't do the vaguest harm ta anyone- a captain does have authority ta perform marriages. It did ruffle the feathers on a few church elders when my masquerade was discovered, but that probably did the old coots some good- must've been years since they'd experienced such a healthy excitation of the humours!"
"I feel unqualified to judge." James' eye was still on the spired cathedral, just beginning to fall in their wake.
"That's a right bonny piece of stonework, but the central thing I wanted to show you is just to our right." Jack guided James forwards and around a gray granite corner. "Worth the walk to have a gander at that, eh?"
James, halted in his tracks, could hardly disagree. "That's, certainly the largest one I've ever seen."
They were now standing at the top of a gently sloped pedestrian walkway, lined with storefronts and white wire angel figures. At the far end loomed a evergreen tree, tall as many a church, densely covered with thousands of multicolored lights and topped with a sparkling crystal star.
"There stands the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree- a New York City tradition since 1931. Folks come from all over ta see it."
The two proceeded down the walkway. Between them and the tree there was something like a wide moat, with a skating rink at the bottom. A large gilded statue of a floating male figure- Prometheus, to judge from his accoutrements- rose from a fountain between the rink and the evergreen's base. They reached the low granite barrier surrounding the moat and joined the crowd gazing up at the tree, and down at circling skaters. James' lips curled fondly- Uncle Daniel's pond had been just about this size.
"I deduce this also provokes agreeable memories."
"You deduce correctly. I'd suppose it's a given that you've tried ice skating sometime in the course of your considerable life span."
"Aye. Learned it in the Netherlands. When the canals froze in winter, skating 'em used ta be the only way folks could get around. Skating to get someplace is the version I like best, but goin' in circles isn't bad." Jack's eye twinkled. "They do rent skates here if yer of a mind ta join in."
"I, only have a few coins left on me."
"I'll make ye a loan. Or consider it an early Christmas gift."
"Thank you, Jack- I am of a mind."
They descended the stairs to the rental facility, and soon emerged onto the ice. James proceeded cautiously, keeping close to the transparent outer barrier for the first few circuits. Gradually his 'neural memory' awakened, firming his wobbling ankles, and he started to move with greater confidence. But he soon decided this not a good place to indulge in speed skating- there were too many parents leading small children, and adolescents talking on cell phones.
Jack required no transition period. The wiry pirate skated much as he walked; giving a deceptive impression of instability to disguise his excellent control. An unpracticed observer, noting how Sparrow kept eyeing every attractive woman on the ice, would marvel that he didn't slam into the sidelines. James, who knew better, concentrated on his own progress. It was a novel experience to be gliding under the great jeweled tree and the multiple red, green and golden flags flapping atop the moat's edge.
When Jack did have a near-collision it was, of course, with the most beautiful young lady there. The one with the white-blonde curls and short purple frock. James made a point of passing close enough to overhear Jack's flattering apologies, mingled with the girl's warbled assurance she was unhurt.
The navyman was annoyed by such juvenile tactics. Consequently he experienced a measure of schadenfreude on the next round, when he beheld Jack facing a probable comeuppance. Specifically; he was was nose-to-nose with a large and irate fellow, clutching the disconcerted girl to his side- very likely her 'significant other'.
Deciding an object lesson was in order, Norrington pretened not to notice Sparrow's pleading glance as he passed. His conscience tweaked him all the way around, though unnecessarily- when he next drew alongside the trio Jack was explaining earnestly, and the big man's ire had given way to perplexity. By the next pass, all three parties were smiling amicably.
Jack gave the couple a friendly wave, pushed off on his heel and swiftly skated to James' side. The expression he bestowed on Norrington was considerably less benevolent.
"Now that was a sorry excuse fer bodyguardin'- leavin' me ta confront that bruiser on me onesies!"
James was unapologetic. "In the first place: your sterling tongue was obviously adequate to diffuse the situation. In the second place: if you're going to make a point of provoking husbands and boyfriends to jealous rage you should plan on dealing with the consequences yourself."
"That weren't deliberate! The wench'd been skating solo fer the previous five minutes- how was I supposed to know she had an escort takin' a longer-'en-average bathroom break? Or that she'd neglect to mention that little detail upfront?" Jack complained. "An' he had no cause ta threaten grievous harm to my visage- I was only lookin' fer a comely lass ta skate alongside of. No offense, James, but you ain't quite so adept at brightenin' up the scenery."
"The scenery here is already as bright as anyone should require," James replied dryly, glancing up at the shimmering flags. "You really should be more careful about how you make new acquaintances."
Jack frowned suspiciously. "It occurs to me that you weren't so uptight about these things prior to our Parisian holiday. Yer not still sulkin' about Babette, are you?"
"No, I am not. Even in my randiest midshipman days the gratification my 'appetites' was never the driving force it apparently is with you."
"Then what has got ya edgy as a lubber on a rollin' sea?"
James pretended to be preoccupied with steering around a father supporting a small girl- actually he was giving himself time to think. This day had been a highly enjoyable up until now; he hesitated to mar it with possibly-distressing revelations. But if that's what it took to convince Jack to behave more prudently...
"I had a conversation in Paris which I failed to mention before. With a singularly non-distinct-looking gentleman in a gray tweed hat." He didn't look at Jack when he said it, not really wanting to see a pall falling over his companion's expression. But James could hear the other's blades stroking with marginally less exhilaration.
"I suppose he's still callin' himself 'Murphy'."
"That is how he introduced himself."
"'Always figured that were a ref to Murphy's Law- when that bloke shows up it's generally because something's gone wrong, or is threatening to. What was the bad news?"
"He delivered a warning. Apparently your concerns about discovery are not groundless. Certain money-endowed persons are seeking to confirm the existence of long-lived persons such as yourself, with the intent of gaining the same benefit."
"The one generally does accompany the other." Sparrow pursed his lips. "Did the helpful Mr. Murphy mention whether these persons have established any portion of my identity? Or yours?"
"According to him, no. At least not yet. But he advised us to keep a weather eye open."
Jack brightened. "Well, that's hardly a novel situation fer me. As you may recollect, back in our natural time my head bore a considerable price. That's what necessitated my evading navymen and bounty hunters fer so long- right up to the day I fabricated my first demise."
"But as there's been technological advances since then, I think it would be wise to..."
"... be a bit more inhibited about puttin' meself on display, or lettin' just anyone close quarters on me. I can do that an' still remain in open air, James. If I let anxiety keep me from livin' that'd be as bad as any other consequence. Would you've wanted to forgo this most enjoyable holiday excursion fer fear o' bein' mugged, or takin' a spill on the ice? 'Carpe diem', Mr. Norrington! I assume you know what that means."
"'Seize the day,'" the navyman dutifully translated.
"'Tis my theory that phrase was originally coined by a pirate. Livin' in the shadow of the gallows tends ta impart such an outlook." Noting how uneasy his cousin still looked, Jack tried to belay his worries. "I'm actually a lot more wary than I let on, James. Not likely I'd of lasted this long otherwise, savvy? So don't let yer innards get into a state. Theer's risk to any living- we seafarers know that better 'en most. Now if you'll please excuse me..."
Sparrow made a fast swoop to pluck a green mitten from the ice, then skillfully meandered to the base of the Prometheus statue to hand it to it's rightful owner; a teary young boy with rosy fingers. James sighed inwardly, telling himself he'd done what he could.
They continued skating with no further conversing on negative matters. Sparrow soon managed to introduce himself to a pretty-enough brunette in a camel-hair coat. Norrington kept an eye on them just long enough to establish this was an actual unaccompanied lady. Then he tried to relax and enjoy himself, and succeeded better than expected.
Finally the PA announced it was time for the Zamboni machine to take possession of the rink. After returning their equipment, Jack (trailed by James) escorted his new skating partner back up to 5th Avenue, where he bestowed a courtly kiss on her knuckles and thanked her for "the dance". The gratified woman sauntered off looking like her day had been made. Possibly even her week.
Sparrow rotated each shoulder in turn, grimacing. "I'd say I have honestly earned a lengthy session in the jacuzzi."
"I hope you can locate an empty one, or may heaven help the other guests."
"Surely I'm not as bad as that."
"You're every bit as bad as that. A variant of Boyle's law should be written about you: 'In any enclosed jacuzzi Jack Sparrow will expand to fill the space allotted to him, and also a great deal of the space not allotted to him.'"
Sparrow pouted. "Now wasn't that a hurtful thing to say! The least you could do ta make it up to me is impart the benefit of your admirably talented fingers." He mimicked some massaging motions.
"I'm experiencing some muscular fatigue myself. I'm sure the Plaza can provide you with a staff masseuse if you request one."
"But you do it so well, James. Just the way I like best!"
Norrington had to steel himself against Jack's infamous kicked-puppy-dog look. "We'll see. In either case, I'm not returning to the hotel quite yet. I wanted to make a stop in there." James indicated the cathedral across the street.
Sparrow grinned. "Good idea- that jus' might put you into a more charitable mood. Be seein' you later, cousin-in-law!" As he turned northwards, Jack sent a last comment over his shoulder. "I'll not object, should you take it into your head to light a candle fer the benefit of one or both of us."
James watched the swinging dreadlocks and dramatic jacket vanish among the moving crowd before making his own way across the avenue. He scaled the stone steps and passed between the cast-bronze doors, before slipped off his coat. The pillared, high-vaulted interior was similar to that of other cathedrals he'd visited in Europe. Minimal lighting set off the stained glass windows, including the front wall's magnificent rose panels. These were done largely in cobalt blue. The alter, at the end of the aisle between the pew rows, was white and gold under a filigree metal canopy.
James spent some minutes wandering and staring, being careful not to disturb the worshipers in the pews. Many of his fellow tourists were snapping photos, reading out of guide books or chatting on those ubiquitous cell phones. Others, gathered at the several shrines, were solemnly lighting disc-shaped candles in little amber glasses and adding them to the tiers. As he regarded the stacked rows of golden flames, each representing an individual hope, James recalled something Father had said years ago to him and Jacob:
"Although 'The Lord helps those who help themselves' is not scriptural, observation and experience both assure us of it's truth. God does not grant us- any of us- immunity from tribulation. What God offers is the fortitude to deal with it when it occurs. If we'll accept it."
Future tribulations did seem all too probable. Maybe severe ones.
Norrington located a 'neutral' tier, deposited his remaining coins into the donation slot, and lit his own little candle. The prayer he breathed over it was short and to the point, as Mother had taught him:
"Lord, whatever might befall in the coming year, may I be equal to the task of coping with it. May I prove to be a true friend and defender of... one of the most spirited and mischievous creatures ever to grace Your earth. Amen"
He carefully placed his candle amongst the others, watched it for a minute. Then he made a respectful bow towards the alter, replaced his parka, and left. Chill late-afternoon wind enveloped him again. Unexpectedly, his ear caught the words to a song from his childhood days:
"The First Noel, the Angels did say,
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay,
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep
On a cold winter's night that was so deep..."
Norrington eagerly made his way it's source. A small green-and-white clad chorale group was performing on a platform beside the same walkway he'd recently vacated. Joining the audience of gathered pedestrians, James listened all the way to the final verse:
"Noel! Noel! Noel! Noel!
Born is the King of Israel!"
The carolers accepted the glove-muffled applause, before beginning another piece. To James' delight, it was 'The Sussex Carol', a favorite of his younger sister Essie:
"On Christmas night all Christians sing
To hear the news the angels bring,
On Christmas night all Christians sing
To hear the news the angels bring,
News of great joy, news of great mirth,
News of our merciful King's birth!"
Norrington couldn't resist joining in, singing the three remaining verses under his breath. The next song was unknown to him. It made no specific mention of Christmas, but had a truly joyful sound:
"It's the spirit of the season
You can feel it in the air!
You can hear it if you listen
Everywhere, so much care, like a prayer...
Where'er it is you need to share it-
It's the spirit of the season!
You can hear it in the air!
People smile as they pass you by,
The day will be here soon...
Dreams are dancing in the children's eyes,
Hearts are singing, bells are ringing too!
It's the spirit of the season
Filling hearts with love and care!
Like a shining star it glistens
Everywhere, feel it there, like a prayer...
Where'er it is you need to share it-
It's the spirit of the season!
It's the spirit of the season!
Snow is falling as you rush downtown,
The city seems to glow...
Laughter raises with the happy sounds,
Hearts are singing, bells are ringing too!"
At that moment, a sudden new brightness caught the navyman's eye. Huge lacy hexagonal shapes- no doubt meant to represent snowflakes- appeared on the facade of the wide building directly across the avenue.
As the choral moved on to a jaunty ballad about sleigh rides and a farmer's birthday party, James lingered to look at the 'snowflakes'. They shone ever more brightly as the sky dimmed, as did the wire angels and the Rockefeller tree. He would have regretted Jack's absence if he didn't know the ex-pirate would get a chance to see this display later, when they returned here for the eight o'clock Rockettes show.
The group began singing about night wind and a little lamb. James decided it was time to return to the hotel. He headed up the cheery avenue, lit by a different set of colors from every window. Smiling happily.
If there was time enough before dinner, he would indeed give his old friend that longed-for massage.
xxx
FINIS
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To save you a trip to the dictionary: 'theobromine' ('food of the gods') is the primary alkaloid component of cocoa and chocolate.
'Schadenfreude' is enjoyment derived from another's misfortune (even James isn't entirely above that.)
'The First Noel'- English traditional, dating to the sixteenth century.
'Sussex Carol'- Lyrics originally published by Irish bishop Luke Wadding (1588-1657).
'Spirit of the Season'- Lyrics by Alan Silvestri © 2004, from the soundtrack to 'The Polar Express'.
For research purposes, I recently made a New York City excursion very similar to this, which included the consumption of a 'Frrozen (sic) Hot Chocolate'. Oh, the sacrifices I make for art...!