Chapter 51

Beyound the veil

„The secret will not remain one as long as you hope, Miss Delanney."

His voice was impassive, as was his face, only his eyes, staring out at the scenery below, betrayed something close to mild irritation. The seamstress frowned, not taking her eyes from what they were watching.

„I beg your pardon?"

James waved his hand at one of the sailors, who, well below them and some twenty meters away, was overseeing the loading of supplies into the belly of the black ship.

„That is Gibbs. He has served under me on the Swann's voyage back from England. If your friend Anamaria does not recognize me, he certainly will."

Susannah turned to measure him with her gaze. The man standing next to her, dressed in an old – yet clean – brown coat, the vest underneath of simple cut and cloth, had not much to do with the grand navy officer in his white wig, but she had to admit, the eyes were the same, and so was the stern expression on his face. Frowning, she measured him, wondering, what could be done to further change his appearance – she considered a hat, a bandana, even briefly, with an inward smile, considered khol, that Jack Sparrow seemed so infinitely fond of, but dismissed it again in the same moment.

There was nothing to be done – at least, nothing that he would agree to – or that she would have even dared to call upon him. She frowned, softly, following her thoughts. So, safety had to come from a different place. This Mister Gibbs had to be persuaded to somehow keep silent about the identity of her companion, especially considering the fact, that most of the crew members would not take the presence of their nemesis lightly. A pawn was needed, of some kind.

He seemed to be a trifle uneasy under her gaze and shuffled, flinched, and thus brought her to avert her eyes at last.

„This Mister Gibbs", she said, thoughtfully, turning her gaze back to the activity below. „What kind of person is he?"

Norrington searched his memory.

„I have not known him to be a very trustworthy man. He gives in much to gossip, instead of doing his work as commanded. I cannot say that I was surprised by his turn to piracy. Beyound that he is superstitios…", he hesitated, „even for a… sailor."

He turned his gaze towards her again, and she saw a faint question in his eyes. She was surprised he was even considering it. Maybe,the time on Tortuga had begun to wear on him too.

Susannah did not like this idea any more than he did. She knew very well, that the game of her dangerous tutor included lying, manipulating and betraying other people. She herself had never liked this, yet maybe it was the magic itself, that called forth opportunities – and lacks of choices. She had indeed become quite good at betraying, even though it was no capability that she was proud of.

This story made demons of them all…

„It's a good thing, then", she said, a little smile touching her lips, that found ist answer in his eyes, „that I do merit the reputation I have."

„I figure I do not want to know what you will be doing?"

„No", she said firmly, with conviction. He was tainted enough already by this spiral, it was no use adding up to this burden by unloading her own. Susannah understood about the fine laws of these charms, if nothing else, then from the stories of her mother, of old.

In a ring, every person has its own weave.

Sometimes, it does well not to mix.

Tia Dalma would have heartily agreed to this.


She stepped up the gangway carrying her bundle over her shoulders, looking around curiously as if seeing it for the first time, in the very attentive gaze that Susannah Delanney exhibited at times, and she was thoroughly unconscious of it. She nodded, quite absently, to one or two sailors that she knew, her step sure, but trailing, as she reentered the ship, that had taken her on a very strange journey.

The mood was different, of sorts. When last time, people had been confused, maybe tingled with worry, now she felt the looks upon her, in a mixture of hope, distrust and fear. She did not know, what Anamaria had told them, but it must have been not too far away from the truth.

The expectations were weights of tons on her shoulders. Susannah had always hated to be the center of attention. But his was worse. Tia Dalma was right, when she had said, that with tehe gift came a responsibility unwanted. But she had said more.

‚Eet brings ye away from da other people, Sanna. Do bee like we are meens to be lonely. Closeness is luxury, and pain een eetself.'

She had protested, timidly, and there had been a sadness in the older woman's eyes.

‚Ye are young. Ye will see, later on.'

For the first time, she understood, what Tia Dalma had meant. The reputation that she had so carefully crafted was now turning on her, like a charm eating its own weavers. It was a protection, but for those around her, she was the inexplicable, the riddle, but also the answer to a question – even though she felt preciously unfit for this. The game of make-believe, however, had wrung its claws around her carefully. There was, indeed, no way out.

The cool breeze felt strange on her bare hands. The gloves were hidden in her bundle, up on top so she could reach them, once this was over, but what she wanted to do, she could not do with them. The crew of the Pearl, and especially Joshamee Gibbs, knew her too well for that.

Gibbs…

She forced her thoughts into coherent trails. She had a task to complete.

He was standing near the bow, surveying the setting of the sails, occasionally crying out to one of the men climbing in the mast, terms and words that meant nothing to her. With a smile on her face she turned towards him, waiting for him to notice her.

The plan had been to stumble, just while standing before him, and after dropping her bundle, clinging to him to regain her footing. She was not sure, that she could indeed fake one of her fits, but it was the best idea she had, or, in other words, it was her only one. She had long thought about what she wanted to say and decided on something cryptic enough, that he might swallow it, but open enough for him to understand what she was meaning.

She never got as far as that, though.

She managed the trip quite gracefully, purposefully stepping on the hem of her skirt, and the rest came along all by itself, the stumble, the loss of equilibrium, the bundle falling to the floor.

Her hands found his shoulders.

And she felt the surge.

Instinctively, she turned against it, the entirety of her frail form stemming itself against the onslaughtering storm, trying to regain her footing, her control of the situation. She had wanted to play with the fire, to dance with the hurricane, but now it had come and swallowed her whole. She felt herself trembling, felt herself stiffening, as the ship blended in with the pictures, and Susannah was lost.

The storm was raging around them and she ran. The ship tossed from one side to the other, and she felt, despairing, the closeness of the very enemy she feared so much. She had to get there in time, or all would be lost.

The ship rolled, and she slipped, sliding down the rail towards the black water, rain clouding her vision. Her hands grasped for a rope, with all her might trying to reach the door again, so far that she could hardly see it, the door, that led to the belly of the ship, where the water was mounting higher, higher, until the whole brigg would finally be filled with water, and all would be lost.

A high-pitched laugh travelled over the sea and tore her insides apart in its wake. Water washed over her, and she felt herself sliding, sliding, water on her face and in her lungs and then…

… she desperately gasped for air, the evening sun burning with the salt in her eyes.

„Lucilla!" Someone shook her, hard, and she felt the hard deck below her.

Only slowly, she returned to wakefulness.

Against the reddening light, she saw Gibbs bowed over her, his voice full of concern that she could not see in his shadowed features. He shook her, almost violently, only stopping, when he found her eyes open.

She tried to focus.

„What did I say?"

A remnant of a memory of her plan, and she found it within herself to follow the shreds of it. Maybe she had said something that could be used, could be wrought, that could, finally, serve to her purpose. Already her thoughts were flying, as Gibbs hesitated before speaking.

„A very strange thing, to be true. You said, that it would bet the death of us, if I reveal his secret."

Susannah blinked, as she digested the information. Slowly, she paled. And even more slowly, she rose to take the chance.

„Yes…", she whispered, her throat hoarse, trying to take on the same detached manner that she, so often, had adapted on Tortuga. „The man, who is coming with me. I have seen it…"

Gibbs frowned, and his gaze glided over to the gangway. The tide was coming in, and so was their last passenger. And indeed, something about the way he was walking did strike a chord…


James Norrington had to admit, that in a way, he had been dreaming of this moment for long. To set foot on the Black Pearl, the dreaded ship, the last of the great pirate vessels in the Caribbean, had been indeed one of his prized goals. However, now, the circumstances were completely changed, though.

His bundle safely hidden down in the belly of the ship – it had been quite some time since he had slept in crew's quarters, but he was quite sure he could, if indeed necessary, do this again for a night or two – nobody seemed to bother him for the moment, and he was free to roam the ship.

It was beautiful, in its own way, a fine work of craftsmanship, and it obviously, despite some minor injuries, in good shape. It was no surprise, that the Pearl had outrun him more than once – she was a fine ship, doubtless.

Dusk was upon them and the sky, colored red, painted the sea a bloody hue. How befitting, he thought, for the place there were in.

Whatever Susannah had told his former subordinate, it seemed to have worked. Joshamee Gibbs avoided him, throwing him glances in equal measures scared and angry, when no one was looking, but there had been no conversation yet, and he doubted, that there would be.

The crew of the Pearl was better organized than he would have thought. Having had to deal with pirates all of his life, he had nevertheless always imagined life on a renegate ship to be some sort of anarchy, but now, he had to admit, that at least here, it was not. Anamaria, the mulatto woman, kept a tight regime in the absence of Sparrow, admittedly formidable in the way she found nothing wrong in yelling at men many years her senior. Gibbs, much as he had been on the voyage from England a lifetime ago, mediated between her and the crew in a rough, yet friendly manner.

As for himself, he was obviously granted a bit of the same respect that Susannah was payed, having come aboard on her bidding and invitation, which granted him the aboard a ship yet unknown leisure of having nothing to do except to look around.

Almost automatically, he estimated the strengths of the Pearl, seeing her navigate as they sailed towards where the ship had lost its captain. If nothing else, it might help him further on, when he was facing her from across the waters again.

If this would ever come to pass.

„To be frank, I am not happy about you being here."

The voice was hard, cool, and very much like Anamaria, from all that he had seen from her up to now. He turned towards her after a moment of collecting his thoughts. He did not particularly feel like sparring, however, she left no choice to him.

Her arms were folded in front of her, and she watched him defensively, a hat placed atop her black hair, just like the day when he had seen her and Susannah before he lost the Dauntless.

Pain was suppressed in the twinkle of an eye.

„I regret to hear this", he replied, as neutrally as he could. „I assume there is nothing I can do to quench your distrust?"

She squinted her eyes, and for a moment, he wondered, why he was even allowing her to question him so. But there was not much of a Commodore in him, at the moment.

„Who are you really?" Anamaria asked. „Where do you know Susannah from?"

Suddenly, he was very glad, that the seeress hat insisted on making up a believable story that they would both tell. He did not like lying, and thus they had settled to the closest thing to the truth that they dared, and thus he was not unprepared for the question.

„My name is James Corret", he therefore said, thoroughly annoyed, not even having to feign it. „You might think of me as an old acquaintance of… Lucilla's from where she lived before. Our father's knew each other, and so do we."

„From where she lived before", Anamaria mused. „Where is that?"

For a moment he thought of revealing the truth, but found it unwise later on. Again, he decided to play on Susannah's reputation.

„She might have had her reasons for not telling you. I am sure you will understand that I have neither reason nor will to displease her."

For a moment he was not sure that she was buying it, but in the end, apparently she did.

„Just so, that there are no misunderstandings", she said. „Point the first: I do not know you, I do not trust you, and if it were for me to decide you would be anywhere but here at the moment, but Lucilla trusts you and I take her word for it. Point the second: I will be watching you closely. I know as well as anyone, that Jack Sparrow is a lousy guy, but still, no one deserves the fix he's in and we will have to bring him out of it one way or other. Either you are with us in this, or we give you a small boat to row back ashore. Point the third: From where we are going there might be no returning. You better consider this, in case you have any more pressing engagements. And point the fourth: She may not be one of us, but Lucilla, unlike you, is okay. I would take it very badly, if something would happen to her."

Now he could barely hide his amusement at the fierceness of the woman. A corner of his mouth twitched, only slightly, before answering.

„Understood, Milady."

He did not quite manage to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, and she noticed it, but left it uncommented. Instead, she turned on her heels and stalked away, her steps on the rolling deck as sure as any sailor's.


Night had fallen, and all was quiet, but there was no way that he would get any sleep now. They were still making speed, even though part of the crew was sleeping, and another part was trying to ease away the fear with a circulating bottle of rum.

All was quiet at the bow now, and this was exactly where he was looking for her. If there was anything he had, by now, learned about Susannah Delanney, then it was, that, left to her own devices, she would look for solitude.

A solitude he was planning on breaking. He told himself, that it was mainly to gain some more information, but part of him knew, that this was not quite the truth.

She was sitting at the bow on the rail, hands wrapped around a rope so that she would not fall, and gazed into the water, one foot dangling down, the other propped up on the rail. But this time she took notice of him, turning around with the faintest of smiles.

„Mister Corret…" A hint of friendly jest seemed to color her voice, as she called him by his invented name, turning around far enough to be able to face him. He stepped up to her, looking out to the sea.

„Shouldn't you be abed at this hour?" he asked. „I do not exactly know where we are going, but from the estimations I figure, it will take us at least until morning to get there."

„There will be no morning", Susannah replied, cryptically, and as he looked at her, frowning quizzically, she shrugged. „Not for us." She stretched out a thin arm, pointing to the horizon, where indeed, clouds were gathering, far off still, but already obscuring the stars in the distance. „There", she said.

„Already?" he frowned at the phenomenom.

„It has grown, I think", she said, not without unease. „It is waiting…"

„For us?" he asked, his elbows propped up on the rail, his face in the wind, taking comfort in trusted and familiar surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shake her head. Her long strands, unbound, toy to the wind, fled out behind both of them, occasionally touching his shoulders, and he hardly could conceal the jumping it forced, when it happened the first time.

There was a strange, careless intimacy in this surrounding.

„For her", Susannah explained, and the paleness of her mouth spoke volumes of how much she dreaded seeing her nemesis again.

„Will she be there?"

She shrugged, , her eyes squinted, as if she tried to find the answer to the question far off in the distance.

„I do not know. I fear so."

Silence settled between them. James watched her, thoughtfully, her dark eyes, the slight frown burrowing between her brows. He felt uneasy about the coming day, the ship they were sailing, the quest they were on, the lack of a true plan.

„What will we do once we get there?"

„Try and get through to Sparrow, of course", Susannah replied, as if she were talking about an afternoon stroll. He snorted, before he could prevent himself from it, shaking his head at this – indeed – very piratey attitude. To first go, and then make up some plan, as they strolled along. This was, in part, what had driven the pirates into his traps.

He would have thought better of Susannah. But before he could comment on this, she continued, much more thoughtful, as if she had been able to read his mind, or at least correctly guess what he was thinking.

„I wish I knew what happened the last time. I was… not myself when they came, and there was something I have done, but neither can I explain… nor conjure it up for the moment. I am beyound what I knew then, now, since I know what we are up against, and I was taught about the ways to weave a spell, but…" She shrugged. „I still have very little command over all of this."

He nodded, even though he did not exactly like what he heard. Silence settled in once more as he thought upon her words, upon the madness of this all, the utter lunacy, that found the scourge of the Caribbean aboard a pirate ship, listening to the ramblings of a woman at least half mad. But then, the alternatives were even less appealing, and this was all, that at the moment was left of his life.

Something was hanging between them that weighed tons.

„At the very least", he answered, at length, „your idea concerning Mister Gibbs was a splendid success. Whatever you chose to tell him kept him aback quite well."

„This had nothing to do with chosing, though", she replied, with another shrug.

He digested this information, and it took a moment for him to understand. Her gift was a dragon, running wild, and about the most unreliable thing he had ever placed his faith in. He must, he decided, be mad or delirious.

This was an easier explanation than the strange urge, that drew him to Susannah.

„What did you see?"

She told him, in dry, short words, of her vision aboard the Pearl, without once looking at him, her peculiar eyes measuring the miles between them and their doom. He felt it difficult to respond, remote as she seemed.

„This is disturbing", he replied, finally, for the lack of anything else to say. She smiled sadly.

„Indeed."

The water lapped lazily against the wall of the ship deep below him. It was, at the moment, hard to believe in the menace posed by the clouds on the horizont.

„I'm scared, James."

For a moment, he thought, he had imagined her words, the epitome of impropriety, and she had, in her own queer way, always tried not to overstep. Calling him by his first name was certainly a break with her habits, especially in the light of the fact, that she had, up to here, always tried to call him by his old title. It would have fitted well within what he considered being his delusions, but something about her posture, the hunched shoulders maybe, ort he fact that she was blinking a trifle to quickly, made him doubt.

For the life of him, he could not think of something to say.

„How do you do it?" she continued, still softly, but now more distinguishable, turning towards him. Her look was open, bereft of all shyness, a closeness, that she had, at times, already displayed, but that always seemed to take him by surprise.

He felt a shiver running down her spine, his stomach contracting with unease, for lack of a better word for it.

„How do you walk into battle? The Navy, I mean…" She shook her head, not understanding. „How do you face the fear? The knowledge, that tomorrow can bring death?" There was a tingle of desperation in her voice, of wonder also. „I do not understand it. I try… to be… strong, but I cannot shake it."

She was a kaleidoscope. Her shyness, rivalled by an almost bluntly open behavior right afterwards was very difficult to meet. When for hours she had not been able to meet his eye, she would suddenly surprise him with a gaze of pure intensity, of a curiosity that was well beyound what propriety allowed, without even a blink of unease, despite her care considering these matters at other times.

„You get used to it", he heard himself saying, his own voice alien to him. „Every sailor does, after a time. Some believe in ghosts and klabautermen. Some drink. Some pray."

„And you?"

Under scrutiny again, a frown on a pale forehead. He felt like recoiling, sneering back something about nosing in other peoples business into her face, but for all of him, he would not find the words. They say, that there is a very special magic in honesty, and there surely was in the gaze that held him now. As if she were at once despairing and forgiving. Then, maybe she was. He smiled, hardly visible.

„I would like to think, that my estimation on the upcoming situation and my confidence in what I have is better than any of these", he replied, with caution, and she continued to watch him, as if this answer carried a promise of more in itself.

Under her gaze, it did.

„When I was on my first voyages, long ago", a short, whistful smile ghosted along his lips at this memory of a younger, more idealistic James, who still had had dreams and illusions, „the Captain kept us busy, until we were tired enough to fall asleep where we standing. I have never again carried around as many ropes in my life as I have done before my first battle."

„Did it help?" Her head cocked, and still her gaze. He wondered, if his heart was racing with fear, but considering her questions, maybe it was. He had to avert his eyes, but he honored her with honesty.

„Only in parts. I did pray, and quite ferociously at that. Later, it became better, though."

He stared towards the horizon, remembering the days, when everything still was much easier. Now, at the end of his life as he knew it, he could not help wishing himself back.

It was painful.

„I do not think I will carry ropes around", Susannah said, humor coloring her voice. „Although some of the crew might be very amused at me doing this."

He laughed, softly.

„Indeed." It was a relief to hear her talking lightly, if only for this moment.

„I do not know, what will happen tomorrow. I wish I had an answer, or a guideline. But I am lost."

„Until now, your gift has not deserted you, has it?" James said, cautiously, as if he were overstepping a boundary with this words, but she only shook her head, shrugging. „So then, we all should exercise a bit of trust in you, isn't it so?"

She looked at him surprisedly, for a moment apparently at loss for something to say. But then, her gaze broke, as if something else had crossed her mind.

„They do trust me", she said, with a soft nod in direction of the main mast, meaning the crew. „Which does not make it better. I am…"; she spread out her hands in something bordering desperation. „… a seamstress. Not…"

„I understand", he said softly.

„Their trust is like a weight of tons on me", she tried to explain, and he, a bitter smile on his lips, remembered his first days as commander. The open display of strength. The silent doubts, once the door of his cabin closed behind him.

„This gets better as well", he mused softly. „With time."

„Always with time", Susannah said, quite bitterly. „Which makes today's wake none the less hard…"

„Then I will wake with you, if you will have it." The sentence felt like leaping all over again, as if he had crossed a cliff jumping, and was hanging on his toes, caught between standing and falling until she gave him an answer. He had a fleeting memory of standing atop the fort, and half expected Susannah to fall down to disappear beneath the waters, as Elizabeth had done to escape from him.

The thought carried no sting and he felt as if the winds were knocked out of him.

But she did not fall, but took a step closer, placing, very surprisingly, her hand on his arm, that was lying loosely on the rail, a gesture so intimate, that it seemed near impossible to him, but her gaze was honest upon his face.

„I am grateful for it", she said, and something in her words made him feel the concentration that it had taken her to utter them, a soft tremble, that betrayed fear.

He could, for the life of him, think of nothing to say. Her small gloved fingers were burning through the cloth of his coat, scourging him with their warmths. But then, since none of this could be real, he placed his hand atop hers, fingers entwining, and he would almost have closed his eyes at the comfort of the gesture, but he did not, shreds of propriety still in order.

But he did not move away.

And neither did she.