AN: Thanks for the reviews...how do you like this chapter?
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It looked like it was going to be a terrible day. It was just sunrise, but already the clouds were a threatening mass of grey in the sky, and presently it began to rain. This was the final straw. Jack had already stolen into a sleeping house and had the use of a razor, and now the rain threatened to wash away the last remaining traces of Captain Jack Sparrow, master of the Black Pearl. Pausing to peer into a window, Jack reflected that he looked nothing like himself. He sighed and tried to turn his collar up - no, his collar wouldn't turn up, because it was a dog collar that threatened to strangle him every time he swallowed - instead he found shelter in a doorway until the rain had passed. He assumed Annamaria would do the same.
Watching moodily the plinking of raindrops into the slowly spreading puddles, Jack fancied again that he could hear the faint tolling of the drowned church bells underwater, somewhere far out in the ocean. He shook his head quickly, for it was bad luck to be hearing the death bells, but the soft tones continued. The noise was beginning to irritate him somewhat when he realised that he was standing in the alcove of a church, and it wasn't imaginary bells that were ringing, but real ones, far above his head in the tower. The wind accompanying the rain caused them to rattle about softly in their places and gently chime, so quietly that Jack believed he wouldn't have noticed the sound at all had he not been so bored. He fingered the pistol in his belt through the chaplain's cassock. He damn well hoped that Barbossa was hearing the toll of the real death bells, wherever he was with Jack's ship. Just then he got the shock of his life as the door opened behind him and a hand clapped him on the shoulder.
"Oh, you've come at last, Reverend. We weren't sure you'd get here in time, what with the rain and all, but you made it!"
Jack opened and closed his mouth several times, but thought better of it. As he was dragged through the entrance hall into the church itself, he was thinking quickly. An entire congregation was in there, yet it wasn't Sunday. What then? A funeral? A marriage? He'd laugh if he had to marry some happy couple, who later found out they'd been living in sin courtesy of the famous Captain Jack Sparrow.
"Reverend Walters, I'm so glad you could come." A hand crushed his own, and Jack forced a polite smile. "It's just that my wife wanted an English minister to christen our newborn, remind her of home y'know, and I had heard that you were living in the islands, so I sent for you."
A weight lifted off Jack's shoulders. These people didn't know him and weren't expecting someone in particular, so he could brazen this out. "Not at all, not at all," he said with a smirk. "Glad to help out."
"Well, we'll be starting in a few minutes, so if you'd like to go into the vestry...?"
Jack wanted very much to go into the vestry, so he shot through the church so quickly that most of the congregation saw only a flurry of robes. He thanked the stars that he could read - most pirates he knew could barely make their mark, X - and scanned the shelves in the vestry for an order of service, preferably a script that he could recite. As he pulled books down from the shelves, he tossed them on the table impatiently while he searched for the one he needed. Finally he found it, a Book of Common Prayer, which would have to do, and turned to leave the vestry. The pile of upended and upturned books on the table would wait for the real Reverend Walters to clean up.
"Wait a minute..." Jack murmured to himself. "What have we here?"
His attention had been caught by one of the books he had so hurriedly flung onto the table. It had fallen open, and was completely hollowed out in the middle. Inside lay a small leather-bound book with a slip of paper sticking out of it, which Jack tucked inside his shirt as worthy of a further look, when time permitted.
"That's interesting...very interesting," he said as he packed up the books. No need to let anyone know that their secret had been discovered. Finally, he strode out into the church, feeling cocky. Bring on the baby, because he was born to be a baptiser!
Annamaria waited impatiently in a doorway near where they had said they would meet up. Jack's probably in a tavern right now, she thought, boozing it up. She decided to give it up if he didn't arrive after another twenty minutes had passed. She was a little nervous about meeting in this area, because after she had given the word to Jack and strode away from him down the alley, she had remembered why it was so familiar. Somewhere along here, not in this street but in one of the adjoining ones, Annamaria's fence lived. She passed what she had stolen along to him, and he took it and sold it for her. He only ever gave her about a quarter of what he had received for the goods back, but Annamaria had only tried holding goods back from him once. She still bore the scars. And now, after every delivery, he beat her, 'in case she was holding out', until she begged to go out and steal some more. He knew everywhere and everyone in Port Royale, so she couldn't escape him, either. He was probably at the gaol right now, going to silence her, to make sure she couldn't drop his name into it if she was questioned. That was why she wanted Jack to come back so desperately, she realised. He could sail her away from all this...drop her in Tortuga, and she could become a rum-runner. She had the smarts for it, after all. She shivered and drew the cloak that she had recently stolen a little tighter over her shoulders. The rain was making her remember far too much that she had forgotten overnight in Jack's company.
Jack came triumphantly to the high point of his ceremony.
"And as we pass the collection plate around, could I ask you to dig deep," he said in the measured, sorrowful tones of a religious man, "deep for the souls and widows and children of those men perished at sea, who lie deep under the waves."
The plate was being passed around, and filling up quite nicely, Jack noted. "Dig deep to help your fellow men recover their ships, and sail into the path of everlasting righteousness."
Yes, that was the stuff. He fingered his pistol again. "Deep for the souls of those murderous pirates who steal our ships, and pray for their everlasting damnation."
As the plate was passed up to the front, Jack saw that his appeal had not gone unheard. He scooped the plate into the box and solemnly said, "Let us bow our heads in a moment of silent prayer and offering." As the congregation meekly bowed their heads, Jack tucked the box of collection money under his robes, and smiled. He studied his nails for a moment longer, and then said brightly, "Right! Bring me the child!"
The baby was placed in his arms. Jack looked down at the baby, and over to the happy family. He whispered to the baby, "Don't make a fuss, but I'm not really a priest." He carried the baby over to the font and looked down the church to where a disturbance was occurring in the front foyer. Jack could hear an outraged voice protesting that he was the REAL Reverend Walters. Others of the congregation were turning their heads toward the noise. He quickly dipped the entire baby into the water of the font, ignoring its protesting squalls, and thrust the dripping baby into the mother's arms.
"Bloody hell!" he said. "So sorry, but I must dash, no-time-to-argue," he cut off the protesting woman. He sprinted out through the vestry to the back door of the church, going faster than a minister had ever gone before. Jack looked around wildly, getting his bearings, and began to run toward the rendezvous with Annamaria. She was going to kill him for being this late.
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It looked like it was going to be a terrible day. It was just sunrise, but already the clouds were a threatening mass of grey in the sky, and presently it began to rain. This was the final straw. Jack had already stolen into a sleeping house and had the use of a razor, and now the rain threatened to wash away the last remaining traces of Captain Jack Sparrow, master of the Black Pearl. Pausing to peer into a window, Jack reflected that he looked nothing like himself. He sighed and tried to turn his collar up - no, his collar wouldn't turn up, because it was a dog collar that threatened to strangle him every time he swallowed - instead he found shelter in a doorway until the rain had passed. He assumed Annamaria would do the same.
Watching moodily the plinking of raindrops into the slowly spreading puddles, Jack fancied again that he could hear the faint tolling of the drowned church bells underwater, somewhere far out in the ocean. He shook his head quickly, for it was bad luck to be hearing the death bells, but the soft tones continued. The noise was beginning to irritate him somewhat when he realised that he was standing in the alcove of a church, and it wasn't imaginary bells that were ringing, but real ones, far above his head in the tower. The wind accompanying the rain caused them to rattle about softly in their places and gently chime, so quietly that Jack believed he wouldn't have noticed the sound at all had he not been so bored. He fingered the pistol in his belt through the chaplain's cassock. He damn well hoped that Barbossa was hearing the toll of the real death bells, wherever he was with Jack's ship. Just then he got the shock of his life as the door opened behind him and a hand clapped him on the shoulder.
"Oh, you've come at last, Reverend. We weren't sure you'd get here in time, what with the rain and all, but you made it!"
Jack opened and closed his mouth several times, but thought better of it. As he was dragged through the entrance hall into the church itself, he was thinking quickly. An entire congregation was in there, yet it wasn't Sunday. What then? A funeral? A marriage? He'd laugh if he had to marry some happy couple, who later found out they'd been living in sin courtesy of the famous Captain Jack Sparrow.
"Reverend Walters, I'm so glad you could come." A hand crushed his own, and Jack forced a polite smile. "It's just that my wife wanted an English minister to christen our newborn, remind her of home y'know, and I had heard that you were living in the islands, so I sent for you."
A weight lifted off Jack's shoulders. These people didn't know him and weren't expecting someone in particular, so he could brazen this out. "Not at all, not at all," he said with a smirk. "Glad to help out."
"Well, we'll be starting in a few minutes, so if you'd like to go into the vestry...?"
Jack wanted very much to go into the vestry, so he shot through the church so quickly that most of the congregation saw only a flurry of robes. He thanked the stars that he could read - most pirates he knew could barely make their mark, X - and scanned the shelves in the vestry for an order of service, preferably a script that he could recite. As he pulled books down from the shelves, he tossed them on the table impatiently while he searched for the one he needed. Finally he found it, a Book of Common Prayer, which would have to do, and turned to leave the vestry. The pile of upended and upturned books on the table would wait for the real Reverend Walters to clean up.
"Wait a minute..." Jack murmured to himself. "What have we here?"
His attention had been caught by one of the books he had so hurriedly flung onto the table. It had fallen open, and was completely hollowed out in the middle. Inside lay a small leather-bound book with a slip of paper sticking out of it, which Jack tucked inside his shirt as worthy of a further look, when time permitted.
"That's interesting...very interesting," he said as he packed up the books. No need to let anyone know that their secret had been discovered. Finally, he strode out into the church, feeling cocky. Bring on the baby, because he was born to be a baptiser!
Annamaria waited impatiently in a doorway near where they had said they would meet up. Jack's probably in a tavern right now, she thought, boozing it up. She decided to give it up if he didn't arrive after another twenty minutes had passed. She was a little nervous about meeting in this area, because after she had given the word to Jack and strode away from him down the alley, she had remembered why it was so familiar. Somewhere along here, not in this street but in one of the adjoining ones, Annamaria's fence lived. She passed what she had stolen along to him, and he took it and sold it for her. He only ever gave her about a quarter of what he had received for the goods back, but Annamaria had only tried holding goods back from him once. She still bore the scars. And now, after every delivery, he beat her, 'in case she was holding out', until she begged to go out and steal some more. He knew everywhere and everyone in Port Royale, so she couldn't escape him, either. He was probably at the gaol right now, going to silence her, to make sure she couldn't drop his name into it if she was questioned. That was why she wanted Jack to come back so desperately, she realised. He could sail her away from all this...drop her in Tortuga, and she could become a rum-runner. She had the smarts for it, after all. She shivered and drew the cloak that she had recently stolen a little tighter over her shoulders. The rain was making her remember far too much that she had forgotten overnight in Jack's company.
Jack came triumphantly to the high point of his ceremony.
"And as we pass the collection plate around, could I ask you to dig deep," he said in the measured, sorrowful tones of a religious man, "deep for the souls and widows and children of those men perished at sea, who lie deep under the waves."
The plate was being passed around, and filling up quite nicely, Jack noted. "Dig deep to help your fellow men recover their ships, and sail into the path of everlasting righteousness."
Yes, that was the stuff. He fingered his pistol again. "Deep for the souls of those murderous pirates who steal our ships, and pray for their everlasting damnation."
As the plate was passed up to the front, Jack saw that his appeal had not gone unheard. He scooped the plate into the box and solemnly said, "Let us bow our heads in a moment of silent prayer and offering." As the congregation meekly bowed their heads, Jack tucked the box of collection money under his robes, and smiled. He studied his nails for a moment longer, and then said brightly, "Right! Bring me the child!"
The baby was placed in his arms. Jack looked down at the baby, and over to the happy family. He whispered to the baby, "Don't make a fuss, but I'm not really a priest." He carried the baby over to the font and looked down the church to where a disturbance was occurring in the front foyer. Jack could hear an outraged voice protesting that he was the REAL Reverend Walters. Others of the congregation were turning their heads toward the noise. He quickly dipped the entire baby into the water of the font, ignoring its protesting squalls, and thrust the dripping baby into the mother's arms.
"Bloody hell!" he said. "So sorry, but I must dash, no-time-to-argue," he cut off the protesting woman. He sprinted out through the vestry to the back door of the church, going faster than a minister had ever gone before. Jack looked around wildly, getting his bearings, and began to run toward the rendezvous with Annamaria. She was going to kill him for being this late.