Chapter 3: Sea Legs
It took some time, and it wasn't easy, but I did eventually get my sea legs. The first night I barely slept despite my not having rested at all the night before, due partly to the cold and partly to the knowledge that I'd just willingly boarded a pirate ship, and there was no turning back for me now. Three days later I was seasick, and spent the better part of my waking hours either huddled miserably in my bunk or retching over the side of the hull. Sometime after midday Captain Sparrow found me and gave me a mysterious concoction from his flask. I was hesitant to drink it at first, still wary of being in the company of pirates.
"I'm not tryin' to poison ye, Abby," he told me, "Yer one of my crew now. Just drink."
So I drank it, and it burned my throat like whiskey all the way down, but afterwards my nausea subsided and never returned.
By the end of the first week I knew my way around the ship fairly well, and I also knew most of the crew by name: There was Mr. Cotton, the cook, who was mute and kept a bright blue parrot perched atop his shoulder at all times. His dumbness was the result of having his tongue cut out by mutinous pirates some years before. The parrot was supposed to be trained to speak for him, but mostly it just rattled off odd phrases like "Shiver me timbers!" or "Batten down the hatches!" whenever the fancy took it.
"It's improvin' steady, though," said Anamaria hopefully.
Then there was the first mate, Mr. Gibbs, who was an old friend of Captain Sparrow's. He was a patient, friendly sort of man who told wonderful stories of pirate lore: cursed gold, buried treasure and all the terrors of the Seven Seas. He even told me a bit of the history of the Black Pearl, how it had been captured and beset by an ancient curse, and how Captain Sparrow and his brave crew had fought with a band of ghostly, skeletal pirates to win it back. It was all just a story, I'm sure, but it was still fascinating to hear him tell it.
Anamaria's was a different story: she had first met the Captain in the islands of the Caribbean, when he had "borrowed" her own ship and failed to return it. I then asked her why she continued to work under his command; she explained that he had promised her a new ship, and she was simply staying aboard until he kept his word.I suspected that she would probably be reluctant to leave the Black Pearl when that day came though, if indeed it came at all.
Just as I was starting to feel truly comfortable at sea, we arrived at the harbor in Paris. The moment we were tied to the dock at the mouth of the River Seine, Captain Sparrow announced that he was going into town to do some trading and bargaining. The rest of the crew could do as they liked, so long as someone stayed behind to watch over the ship.
"Abby!" he called suddenly.
I straightened up and moved to the front of the group to face him.
"Yes?" I asked, a little surprised.
"Can ye speak French?"
"Yes, a little. I learnt it in finishing school."
"Ah, splendid! You come with me. As for the rest of ye, this is the last we'll see of Europe for a long while to come. Go enjoy yourselves!"
The crew cheered and scattered off to enjoy the streets of Paris; Mr. Cotton stayed behind with his blue parrot to guard the ship. Captain Sparrow fixed his three-cornered hat atop his head and gestured for me to follow him down the gangplank. He seemed to walk differently when he met solid ground; he swayed on his feet like a drunkard, but he still carried himself quite proudly. I wondered at this strange walk I had somehow failed to notice before, but when my own feet met the ground I understood: sea legs. I myself found it difficult to stand upright for the first few moments without the steady rolling of the sea underneath me anymore. It was profoundly unsettling. The Captain didn't seem bothered by it in the least – he staggered gracefully, dutifully employing his easy nonchalance. The cobblestone streets of Paris were dirty but wonderful, especially to the eyes of a young girl like myself who had scarcely seen past the borders of her own neighborhood. The roads wound inward towards a great plaza lined with monuments, churches, and beautiful stone carvings. I would have very much liked to stay and take in my surroundings, but the Captain led me straight to a merchant's booth on the corner of the Champs-Elysée. The merchant seemed to recognize him and nodded amiably, but he cast a wary glance in my direction. He stood up at Captain Sparrow's approach.
"Ah, bienvenue, Jacques!" he said, shaking the Captain's hand heartily, "Quelle surprise! Qu'est-ce que vous voudriez aujourd'hui?"
The Captain smiled.
"Pleasure, as always, Fontaine," he returned pleasantly.
Then he turned to me.
"What exactly did he say?" he asked quietly.
"Oh," I said, remembering my task, "He says 'welcome' and he wants to know what you'd like to buy, I think."
"Ah, of course. What has he got to offer me?"
Before I could translate, Fontaine turned to me and said, "Qui est cette jolie?"
I blushed and smiled at the merchant.
"What was that?" asked the Captain.
"Something along the lines of 'who's the pretty girl?'" I said, and then introduced myself.
Fontaine took my hand and kissed it charmingly.
"Enchanté," he said.
"Watch your ring, Abby," muttered Captain Sparrow.
I looked down and realized that the merchant had deftly taken hold of my gold ring and was attempting to remove it from my finger as he kissed my hand. I snatched my hand away with disgust.
"Now ask him what he has for me," said the Captain, "I'd like a new knife, if he can manage that."
I translated this request to Fontaine, who looked slightly disappointed after his failed robbery, and he produced a lethal-looking dagger with an intricately carved ivory hilt. The Captain unsheathed the dagger and ran his thumb along the blade, studying it carefully.
"Are there any others?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the knife.
"Est-ce qu'il y a un autre?" I asked Fontaine.
He set several more daggers on the tabletop and Captain Sparrow studied each of them with comparable scrutiny before selecting one with a jewel-encrusted hilt along with the ivory-handled one and handed Fontaine a few gold pieces as payment. Then we moved on to several more merchant stands until our work was done. It took a good deal longer than I had expected it to, but I didn't mind: it gave me a chance to admire the city while the Captain haggled and decided which goods were worth buying for the voyage. The only stops I paid much attention to after Fontaine were the food merchants; the Captain wanted to replenish our stores before turning south, and the French bakeries were nothing short of magnificent. I actually took the liberty of making suggestions as to what we should take on our voyage, mostly so I would have the option of tasting it all later on, but the Captain didn't seem to mind. We left the plaza with an armload each of new rations and other luxuries, and Mr. Cotton helped us to carry it all back on board. Captain Sparrow then took out the two knives from Fontaine's to look them over once more.
"The ivory one is beautiful," I said, watching him, "Why'd you get both of them? Isn't one enough?"
He sheathed the ivory dagger and tossed it at me; I caught it, surprising myself with the quickness of my own reflexes.
"That one's for you," he said, turning back to rummage through the rest of our goods.
"For me?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"Aye. For acting as me interpreter today."
He turned back to me.
"Besides," he added, "I noticed you're rather unarmed otherwise."
I stared at him open-mouthed, shocked by this act of unexpected generosity.
"Thank you," I said finally.
He smiled and clapped me on the shoulder, turning me to face him directly.
"You may need it before this little pleasure cruise is over, love," he said gravely.
Then he walked ashore to locate the rest of the crew. I turned the knife over in my hands, studying the exquisite handle. But I was more than a little troubled by the Captain's parting words; what did he know that I didn't?