Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: sorry for the delay in getting this up - last week this fic wrote itself, this week it's not behaving.
A note also on my Anamaria's origins. I think she's probably the child of an escaped slave woman and some sailor or other. She's got family dotted around, mostly in the hills above Tortuga town, from African slave stock but escaped. Historical accuracy is again probably being played with, here. At home, my!Anamaria speaks a sort of Creole. Now, I looked up Haitian Creole on the net, and discovered that it's spelt these days in a way that makes it unrecognisable from its French roots. Phonetically, it's still surprisingly close. In the late 17th century, it would probably have been closer to its roots; so I've messed around a little with correct modern French to create a sort of semi-Creole. Translation at the end of the chapter. Hope that all makes sense.
----
"Three months?" Jack said. "Three months?"
"Look at her, lad," Captain Flint said.
They were standing below the Black Pearl, hauled out on the Tortuga shipyard. She was resting on supports, propped up by solid planks of wood at intervals under her keel, and the sound of hammering rang through the air. Seen from underneath, the hull of the ship was in a bad state. The damage was more than superficial, though indeed salt water had taken its toll on the black paint. In several places there were loose planks, or worse, holes in the fabric of the vessel.
"She'd not have survived another voyage," said Flint, patting his ship tenderly. "She was scuppered, Jack; she'd have gone to Davy Jones if we'd met another storm. It's a wonder we made Tortuga. Our Pearl's a good ship, and a fast'un, but she's old. She's seen many miles and won many battles. It's as well that we made a good profit on the last trip, and I'm fittin' her out with new sails and new rope, but the repairs take time."
"But three months?" Jack repeated.
"Join another ship. You were unlucky with the Dragon. 'Tis odd, I'd heard good things of that ship."
"I'd like to know who from," Jack said. "Bloody traitors to common decency, that lot."
"Still," Flint mused, turning away from the Black Pearl, "you came through, got home, with a few coins in hand."
"I'm Jack Sparrow, savvy?" Jack said, grinning. "I knew I'd get back. Home ... not going to be home until the old lady's back afloat." He cast a last look back at the ship as they turned the corner, round to the harbour.
"So join another ship," Flint repeated. "Take the Lady Jane, out there," he indicated a graceful brigantine out in the harbour. "Her cap'n's a good man, name o' Sancho - a dago, but a good man. Follows the Code. I could put in a word for you, Jack."
Jack shrugged. "I thought mebbe I'd go and visit Anamaria," he said.
Flint nodded, approvingly. "You do that, lad."
So Jack did. He hitched a ride with a man taking goods out of Tortuga town into the hills above the harbour, and arrived at Anamaria's aunt's small cabin towards evening. Outside the house he saw two women sitting making baskets, both dressed in brightly-coloured skirts with flowers in their hair.
As Jack approached, the younger of the two women looked up and dropped her bundle of canes on the ground. Picking up her skirts, she came rushing across the dry earth towards him.
"Jack!"
He took off his hat. "Anamaria?"
She cannoned into him and gave him a crushing hug. "I thought you were aboard the Fiery Dragon?"
"I was," he said.
"So what happened?" She stood back, and they surveyed each other. Jack thought how odd it was to see his friend actually dressing like a girl - he had become so used to seeing her in shirt and breeches, hair pulled back, that in her flowery skirt and hair flowing loose she seemed to be an alien being.
"Oh," he said, as they began to walk across to the cabin, "I found their morals were somewhat looser than mine, and we had a disagreement."
"There is a story in this," she commented. "I suppose I will not have to ask for it to be told."
"Course not," Jack said. "It's a good one, full of daring deeds and gallantry and piracy, featuring Jack Sparrow in the role of the hero."
"All your stories feature Jack Sparrow in the role of the hero," Anamaria pointed out.
"But of course!" he returned. "Where else would a story be, did it not feature said pirate?"
She frowned at him, shook her head, and said: "You are madder now than you were a month ago."
They had reached the cabin now, and the woman sitting making baskets looked up. "Te m'présentes ton ami, Ana?"
"Çui don' je t'a parlé," Anamaria replied.
"O!" The woman stood up, and hands on hips looked Jack up and down. "This be the famous Jack Sparrow?"
Jack, glad they had switched to English, gave the hat in his hand a flourish. "That's right, ma'am - and I surmise you would be Anamaria's noble aunt?"
"Il parle tuju' comme ça?" Anamaria's aunt asked her niece.
"Tu-temps," Anamaria agreed.
"Fou?" her aunt questioned.
"Very," said Anamaria.
Jack, who had been listening carefully, furrowed his brow. "You've established that I'm mad?" he checked.
"Very good!" Anamaria said.
"Thought you'd worked that one out years ago, love," he said. He threw off his sword belt and sat down with his back against the cabin, next to the basket-making materials.
The women settled down again next to him. Anamaria asked for the story, and Jack willingly launched into it, making his sword fights even more exciting and the crew of the Fiery Dragon rather more fearsome than they had actually been. Anamaria and her aunt wove their baskets, but both paused and devoted their whole attention to Jack as he described the Indians and his short stay in their village.
"I thought they were all gone," Anamaria's aunt said, wonderingly.
Jack shook his head. "Dunno why they looked after me instead of shooting me full o' their arrows. But I was extremely glad they decided to give me a drink and stick me back together again, instead."
Anamaria passed him a bundle of canes. "Help us with the baskets, Jack."
Jack watched what she and her aunt were doing with the canes, weaving them around a framework of thicker canes, and began to copy them, his slender fingers managing tolerably well.
"Anyway," he continued, pausing in the basket making a few moments later, "then I pinched a boat in Cap Haïtien, paddled along the coast and 'cross to Tortuga."
"All that way on your own?" Anamaria said, doubtfully.
"All by me onesies," Jack confirmed, omitting the fact that the boat had been tied to the stern of a much larger vessel and he had only cast it loose in sight of Tortuga Island. His friend continued to frown at him, so he moved quickly on. "Got a look at the Pearl in Tortuga."
She looked up. "Oh?"
"Three months," Jack said dolefully. "Sure, she'll be a beauty when she's ready. Cap'n's giving her new canvas, new rope, the whole caboodle, but ..."
"Three months," Anamaria agreed. "Notr' bateau," she added, turning to her aunt. "So, what will you do?" she asked Jack, glancing back at him.
He wove another cane around the basket frame before answering. "I don't know, love."
"Lui pu rester ici," Anamaria's aunt threw in, casually, and Jack gave her a grin, and saluted her with his hands together.
"Merci," he managed. "But I cannot stay for three months, Ana, you know that. Would drive you and your good aunt completely ..." he waved his hand in the air vaguely, "mad. Maybe. And though this is a beautiful spot, it's too still." He put his unfinished basket down, and rested his wrists on his knees.
"Jack Sparrow does not know what to do?" Anamaria said. "But you always know what to do."
"Not this time," he said, staring out at the magnificent view of lush green hillside and clear blue sea before him.
He did stay, in the end, for a week. In return for a place to sleep and a share of food, he did some of the heavier jobs on the aunt's small farm, including hauling a great bundle of palm leaves on to the cabin roof and mending some holes. Once he had finished that particular task, he sat on the roof for quite some time, gazing out to sea and running possible next steps through his mind. Below him, Anamaria looked up from weeding and frowned.
She confronted him when he came down. "Why don't you just go back to the town?"
"Eh?" He glanced at her, adjusting his headscarf. "What d'you mean?"
"Oh!" she exclaimed, dropping her basket of weeds and waving her fists at him, close to hitting him hard in the face. "I know you are not stupid, Jack Sparrow, so why behave as if you are?"
Jack sighed, and let his hands drop from his hair. "Fools enough folk, Ana. Show them what they want to see, and they don't look too hard at what's inside."
"It does not fool me." She stood, hands resting on her hips, and looked hard at him. "Go back to the ship, Jack. You would rather be with her than with me."
"But she's not afloat," Jack pointed out.
"You know enough about ships, by now," Anamaria retorted. "Help them repair her! Better that than sitting on the roof, here, wanting her."
He smiled, his eyes totally serious. "There aren't many who know me like you do, love."
Anamaria shook her head. "Je sais. Go on."
Jack grinned, and swept her one of his extraordinary, daft bows. "To hear is to obey, milady."
He darted inside the cabin to collect his coat, hat and sword belt, and she heard him saying a quick goodbye to her aunt. Coming out, he bent to deposit a quick, light kiss on her lips. "Thank you, Anamaria."
And he was off, hurrying quickly down the path towards Tortuga town. Anamaria stood and watched him, one hand touching her mouth, and a smile playing on her lips.
"Au'voir, Jack," she murmured.
----
Translations of the French: "Are you going to introduce your friend to me, Ana?" - "He's the one I told you about." - "Does he always talk like that?" - "All the time." - "Mad?" - "Our boat." - "He could stay here." - "Thank you." - "Goodbye."
Author's note: sorry for the delay in getting this up - last week this fic wrote itself, this week it's not behaving.
A note also on my Anamaria's origins. I think she's probably the child of an escaped slave woman and some sailor or other. She's got family dotted around, mostly in the hills above Tortuga town, from African slave stock but escaped. Historical accuracy is again probably being played with, here. At home, my!Anamaria speaks a sort of Creole. Now, I looked up Haitian Creole on the net, and discovered that it's spelt these days in a way that makes it unrecognisable from its French roots. Phonetically, it's still surprisingly close. In the late 17th century, it would probably have been closer to its roots; so I've messed around a little with correct modern French to create a sort of semi-Creole. Translation at the end of the chapter. Hope that all makes sense.
----
"Three months?" Jack said. "Three months?"
"Look at her, lad," Captain Flint said.
They were standing below the Black Pearl, hauled out on the Tortuga shipyard. She was resting on supports, propped up by solid planks of wood at intervals under her keel, and the sound of hammering rang through the air. Seen from underneath, the hull of the ship was in a bad state. The damage was more than superficial, though indeed salt water had taken its toll on the black paint. In several places there were loose planks, or worse, holes in the fabric of the vessel.
"She'd not have survived another voyage," said Flint, patting his ship tenderly. "She was scuppered, Jack; she'd have gone to Davy Jones if we'd met another storm. It's a wonder we made Tortuga. Our Pearl's a good ship, and a fast'un, but she's old. She's seen many miles and won many battles. It's as well that we made a good profit on the last trip, and I'm fittin' her out with new sails and new rope, but the repairs take time."
"But three months?" Jack repeated.
"Join another ship. You were unlucky with the Dragon. 'Tis odd, I'd heard good things of that ship."
"I'd like to know who from," Jack said. "Bloody traitors to common decency, that lot."
"Still," Flint mused, turning away from the Black Pearl, "you came through, got home, with a few coins in hand."
"I'm Jack Sparrow, savvy?" Jack said, grinning. "I knew I'd get back. Home ... not going to be home until the old lady's back afloat." He cast a last look back at the ship as they turned the corner, round to the harbour.
"So join another ship," Flint repeated. "Take the Lady Jane, out there," he indicated a graceful brigantine out in the harbour. "Her cap'n's a good man, name o' Sancho - a dago, but a good man. Follows the Code. I could put in a word for you, Jack."
Jack shrugged. "I thought mebbe I'd go and visit Anamaria," he said.
Flint nodded, approvingly. "You do that, lad."
So Jack did. He hitched a ride with a man taking goods out of Tortuga town into the hills above the harbour, and arrived at Anamaria's aunt's small cabin towards evening. Outside the house he saw two women sitting making baskets, both dressed in brightly-coloured skirts with flowers in their hair.
As Jack approached, the younger of the two women looked up and dropped her bundle of canes on the ground. Picking up her skirts, she came rushing across the dry earth towards him.
"Jack!"
He took off his hat. "Anamaria?"
She cannoned into him and gave him a crushing hug. "I thought you were aboard the Fiery Dragon?"
"I was," he said.
"So what happened?" She stood back, and they surveyed each other. Jack thought how odd it was to see his friend actually dressing like a girl - he had become so used to seeing her in shirt and breeches, hair pulled back, that in her flowery skirt and hair flowing loose she seemed to be an alien being.
"Oh," he said, as they began to walk across to the cabin, "I found their morals were somewhat looser than mine, and we had a disagreement."
"There is a story in this," she commented. "I suppose I will not have to ask for it to be told."
"Course not," Jack said. "It's a good one, full of daring deeds and gallantry and piracy, featuring Jack Sparrow in the role of the hero."
"All your stories feature Jack Sparrow in the role of the hero," Anamaria pointed out.
"But of course!" he returned. "Where else would a story be, did it not feature said pirate?"
She frowned at him, shook her head, and said: "You are madder now than you were a month ago."
They had reached the cabin now, and the woman sitting making baskets looked up. "Te m'présentes ton ami, Ana?"
"Çui don' je t'a parlé," Anamaria replied.
"O!" The woman stood up, and hands on hips looked Jack up and down. "This be the famous Jack Sparrow?"
Jack, glad they had switched to English, gave the hat in his hand a flourish. "That's right, ma'am - and I surmise you would be Anamaria's noble aunt?"
"Il parle tuju' comme ça?" Anamaria's aunt asked her niece.
"Tu-temps," Anamaria agreed.
"Fou?" her aunt questioned.
"Very," said Anamaria.
Jack, who had been listening carefully, furrowed his brow. "You've established that I'm mad?" he checked.
"Very good!" Anamaria said.
"Thought you'd worked that one out years ago, love," he said. He threw off his sword belt and sat down with his back against the cabin, next to the basket-making materials.
The women settled down again next to him. Anamaria asked for the story, and Jack willingly launched into it, making his sword fights even more exciting and the crew of the Fiery Dragon rather more fearsome than they had actually been. Anamaria and her aunt wove their baskets, but both paused and devoted their whole attention to Jack as he described the Indians and his short stay in their village.
"I thought they were all gone," Anamaria's aunt said, wonderingly.
Jack shook his head. "Dunno why they looked after me instead of shooting me full o' their arrows. But I was extremely glad they decided to give me a drink and stick me back together again, instead."
Anamaria passed him a bundle of canes. "Help us with the baskets, Jack."
Jack watched what she and her aunt were doing with the canes, weaving them around a framework of thicker canes, and began to copy them, his slender fingers managing tolerably well.
"Anyway," he continued, pausing in the basket making a few moments later, "then I pinched a boat in Cap Haïtien, paddled along the coast and 'cross to Tortuga."
"All that way on your own?" Anamaria said, doubtfully.
"All by me onesies," Jack confirmed, omitting the fact that the boat had been tied to the stern of a much larger vessel and he had only cast it loose in sight of Tortuga Island. His friend continued to frown at him, so he moved quickly on. "Got a look at the Pearl in Tortuga."
She looked up. "Oh?"
"Three months," Jack said dolefully. "Sure, she'll be a beauty when she's ready. Cap'n's giving her new canvas, new rope, the whole caboodle, but ..."
"Three months," Anamaria agreed. "Notr' bateau," she added, turning to her aunt. "So, what will you do?" she asked Jack, glancing back at him.
He wove another cane around the basket frame before answering. "I don't know, love."
"Lui pu rester ici," Anamaria's aunt threw in, casually, and Jack gave her a grin, and saluted her with his hands together.
"Merci," he managed. "But I cannot stay for three months, Ana, you know that. Would drive you and your good aunt completely ..." he waved his hand in the air vaguely, "mad. Maybe. And though this is a beautiful spot, it's too still." He put his unfinished basket down, and rested his wrists on his knees.
"Jack Sparrow does not know what to do?" Anamaria said. "But you always know what to do."
"Not this time," he said, staring out at the magnificent view of lush green hillside and clear blue sea before him.
He did stay, in the end, for a week. In return for a place to sleep and a share of food, he did some of the heavier jobs on the aunt's small farm, including hauling a great bundle of palm leaves on to the cabin roof and mending some holes. Once he had finished that particular task, he sat on the roof for quite some time, gazing out to sea and running possible next steps through his mind. Below him, Anamaria looked up from weeding and frowned.
She confronted him when he came down. "Why don't you just go back to the town?"
"Eh?" He glanced at her, adjusting his headscarf. "What d'you mean?"
"Oh!" she exclaimed, dropping her basket of weeds and waving her fists at him, close to hitting him hard in the face. "I know you are not stupid, Jack Sparrow, so why behave as if you are?"
Jack sighed, and let his hands drop from his hair. "Fools enough folk, Ana. Show them what they want to see, and they don't look too hard at what's inside."
"It does not fool me." She stood, hands resting on her hips, and looked hard at him. "Go back to the ship, Jack. You would rather be with her than with me."
"But she's not afloat," Jack pointed out.
"You know enough about ships, by now," Anamaria retorted. "Help them repair her! Better that than sitting on the roof, here, wanting her."
He smiled, his eyes totally serious. "There aren't many who know me like you do, love."
Anamaria shook her head. "Je sais. Go on."
Jack grinned, and swept her one of his extraordinary, daft bows. "To hear is to obey, milady."
He darted inside the cabin to collect his coat, hat and sword belt, and she heard him saying a quick goodbye to her aunt. Coming out, he bent to deposit a quick, light kiss on her lips. "Thank you, Anamaria."
And he was off, hurrying quickly down the path towards Tortuga town. Anamaria stood and watched him, one hand touching her mouth, and a smile playing on her lips.
"Au'voir, Jack," she murmured.
----
Translations of the French: "Are you going to introduce your friend to me, Ana?" - "He's the one I told you about." - "Does he always talk like that?" - "All the time." - "Mad?" - "Our boat." - "He could stay here." - "Thank you." - "Goodbye."