Chapter 4: Island Days
"So you knew it was Captain Sparrow all along!"
"Of course," smiled the Commodore.
The Dowager Duchess was standing at the railing of the Dauntless with Norrington, who was escorting her back to St. Claire Island, to the lady's considerable annoyance. Since she had embarked on a reckless and thoroughly enchanting affaire with the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow, Harry felt that the less the Navy knew of her other affairs the better it would be for all concerned. This prudent intention had died aborning, due to the stratagems of her interfering busybody of a brother. Weatherby, backed with the authority of his Governorship as well as that of a sibling many years her senior, had insisted that the Commodore take Harry back to her new home to ensure that all was well on the island. The Commodore had readily agreed to the Governor's request, for it was in alignment with his own desire to investigate the death of the former overseer of the plantation, one Lucius Cray, a known felon, as well as the subsequent sale of a dozen of the man's henchmen at the Port-au-Prince slave market. Thus it was that Lady Henrietta found herself once again enjoying the hospitality of the Navy, all the necessities and luxuries she'd purchased for the plantation having been stored below in the hold of the great warship.
They had not previously spoken of Captain Sparrow's presence at the wedding , either following 'Sir John's' departure from the event, or at any time since, as there had been little opportunity for private conversation. But now, alone with the Commodore for a brief time, Harry had broached the subject, feeling that avoiding it would give rise to undesirable suspicion and speculation.
"I quite thought you would have had him arrested on recognizing him—or at least said something," Harry commented, mendaciously.
Norrington looked sidelong at her, lifting a brow. "No, you didn't," he said, bluntly. "As though I would disrupt Elizabeth's wedding in such a manner when there was no need! I assumed Sparrow went to the trouble of donning such an elaborate disguise in order to refrain from doing so himself. Believe me, if he had not kept the line I would have made quick and quiet work of him."
Harry chuckled. "Well, I appreciate your discretion. We became great friends on the voyage we made to St. Claire after the Bride's Auction. Moreover, I think Elizabeth and Will would have been disappointed had he not come to their wedding. He has become…dear to us! Even in so short a time!"
Norrington frowned. "Yes. He has an inexplicable charm that draws one in, even when one is aware that he is a notorious scoundrel. I beg you will keep your distance from him, Lady Fanshawe. He would have no hesitation in using the most unscrupulous means to gain his ends, and your great wealth makes you an easy target for a man of his stamp."
"I thank you for the warning, Commodore. But in this case it is not needed, I think. I have very good reasons to count him a true friend."
"He may well be, but mark my words: his every action has an ulterior motive."
And who among us can claim to have none? Harry thought. But she did not say it.
o-o-o
The Dauntless lay anchored in the South Bay at St. Claire for three nights, two nights longer than Harry and, especially, AnaMaria would have preferred.
When the great ship had appeared on the horizon Ana had uttered a vehement oath and stomped off to gather her few things together. Judah was saddened, but understood her reasoning: not only was she a known pirate, she was an escaped slave as well, and it would be foolish beyond permission to risk capture for either offense. Fortunately she had a place to go: on the north side of the island there was a little settlement of folk, of English descent for the most part, former employees of the late Montgomery Fanshawe, who'd been forced out when Lucius Cray had appeared to take charge as overseer of the plantation. Judah had sent word to them shortly after Cray's demise, but it was not until the Black Pearl had departed with the captured ruffians that the families came to investigate the changes that had taken place at the plantation. However, receiving a warm welcome from Judah, Rachel, and the rest of the plantation's residents, the group had realized that great good had come from the advent of the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham, and better days might be in store for all. They had been impressed with AnaMaria's quick mind and her ability to organize the residents into work parties for the clean up and refurbishment of the plantation, working alongside Judah and Rachel in this endeavor, and had not held her piratical leanings against her in the least. After all: there, but for the grace of God…!
The most prominent member of the little group was a wiry, gray-haired man of middle age, Giles Lightfoot. He had a spouse, Miriam, as plump as he was lean and the very picture of wifely and motherly devotion; and there were three surviving offspring, Davis, Mordecai, and Lillian, the boys being strapping lads of nineteen and twenty, and the young lady a pretty maid of thirteen. Judah informed AnaMaria that Lightfoot was the man who had improved the quality of St. Claire's rum to such an extent that it was becoming a byword all over the Caribbean. Giles, taking a tot of the current iteration of the heavenly elixir along with Judah and the pirate wench, remarked that at least Cray had not managed to much harm the vital processes that had been put into place before the villain had come to the island: the rum was still devilish good! AnaMaria had agreed, and had told him a bit of what Lady Harry had in mind for the plantation. Giles said that, on the return of the lady, he and his family would come to welcome her and discuss his family's possible return to the plantation. His boys were getting older, and he must be thinking of their futures: he had been seriously considering moving them all to Jamaica, where there would be more opportunity for them, but now, with Cray and his minions gone from St. Claire, who knew what opportunities might arise here at home? In the meantime, he and his wife begged AnaMaria and the plantation residents to consider themselves welcome at the Northtown settlement at any time and to keep them informed of Lady Fanshawe's return.
Since she had returned with the Scourge of Piracy himself, however, it was some days before the Lightfoots were able to make themselves known to her. They commiserated with AnaMaria, and welcomed her into their home, where she spent several surprisingly happy days visiting with Miriam, helping the woman with various household chores and crafts, and entertaining the family with stories of Captain Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl, and with an account of the circumstances surrounding Cray's death. Ana did not say it in so many words, but Giles and Miriam were fascinated to gather that the famous pirate captain and the Dowager Duchess had grown to be uncommonly friendly during the latter exploit. Miriam was not sure she approved of her children being exposed to such goings on, if and when the Black Pearl returned to the island, but Giles shrugged it off, saying that the nobility were notorious for their disregard of society's usual notions of morality, and he supposed they'd conduct themselves discreetly enough in any case. By the time Norrington and the Dauntless sailed away again, the whole family was agog to meet the owner of St. Claire Island.
Norrington had questioned Harry and all the residents of the plantation and was quite satisfied that Jack Sparrow had done well in taking the law into his own hands and killing Cray. He was also inclined to turn a blind eye to the sale of Cray's henchmen in the slave market in Haiti, although it was a question whether hanging would have been the more merciful penalty. Norrington was not pleased to hear that Harry had ended up spending an entire night locked in a storeroom with Sparrow, but the lady assured him that the pirate had behaved with perfect propriety during that episode, and, indeed, through the whole of the adventure. Norrington looked skeptical, but did not pursue the matter further, to Harry's relief.
However, before climbing into the longboat that would return him to the Dauntless, Norrington took Harry aside once more to warn her against Sparrow.
"This island of yours is potentially of great value to him in his nefarious activities. I ask you again, Lady Fanshawe: please beware of becoming over familiar with him. His manner leads one to give trust where it is not warranted. He may be a good man, in many ways, but he is not an honest one!"
Trying to stifle her impatience, Harry said kindly, "Yes, I feel certain you are right, Commodore. I do appreciate your concern. I thank you for returning me to my new home! Have a safe journey back, and give my regards to Weatherby, will you?"
Norrington sighed. "I will," he said, and bid her adieu.
o-o-o
It was nearly three weeks later when the Black Pearl was sighted on the horizon, heading into the South Bay. A large party from the plantation, including Harry, Rachel, AnaMaria, Judah, and Giles and Miriam Lightfoot, among others, stood on the beach by the time the ship was anchored and a longboat launched for shore. Their joyous anticipation turned to concern, however, when AnaMaria said, in a worried tone, "Jack's alone!"
It was true: Jack was accompanied only by the two men who rowed the boat, though there was room for at least a half dozen more. When the boat drew closer, they could see that Jack looked unusually grim, and so the party held back from rushing into the warm, shallow water to greet him and help with the boat.
The boat dug into the sand, and Jack jumped out and waded toward them, saying, "Stay back! All of you! We've sickness on board."
"Jack! No!" exclaimed Harry, her heart freezing.
Jack stopped at the water's edge and looked at her, longing and fear in his gaze. "Don't come near me: it might be smallpox."
"Oh, God!" Harry whispered, the exclamation a prayer from the heart. Smallpox was highly contagious, and usually deadly. Those that did survive were nearly always marked with the most hideous scarring. In some ports it was common practice to burn ships that were discovered to carry persons afflicted with the malady!
"How do you know it is smallpox?"
The question had come from Miriam Lightfoot. Giving her husband a soothing look, she stepped forward to address this exotic-looking pirate captain, who had apparently resumed his former mode of dress after the Turner's wedding—Lady Harry had set them all laughing one evening with her droll description of the event.
Harry said, "Jack, this is Miriam Lightfoot. She is a friend."
Jack nodded. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. And to answer your question, I don't know it. I only know Owens and a couple of the men have taken very ill and come out all over in spots."
"Not Owens!" Harry exclaimed in dismay, for she had grown very fond of the Cabin Boy who had shared in the adventure with Cray.
"Aye. Poor little devil was the first laid up with it, two days ago. But O'Brien and Hadley joined him yesterday, and they're already a bit worse off than Owens."
"Captain Sparrow," said Miriam, "I have experience dealing with smallpox—I was a milkmaid when I was a lass, back in England, and such are known to have more resistance to the illness. I later had it myself, along with some members of my family, but my case was very mild and I recovered quickly enough that I could help nurse the others. One cannot contract it a second time. It may be that I can determine if your men have the illness, and help them."
Jack looked at her in surprise. "You'd do that for us?"
Mrs. Lightfoot laughed gently. "We've heard so much about you and your adventures in the last few weeks we quite feel we know you!"
Jack raised a brow at this, glancing at Harry and AnaMaria, but said to Miriam, "Right, then. I'd be in your debt, ma'am, if you'd help us."
The next hour was a terrible one for Harry and the others. After Jack helped Miriam Lightfoot into the longboat and set off for the Black Pearl again, everyone sat down on the sand to wait for news. The minutes dragged by, no one feeling any desire to indulge in idle conversation. Harry sat with her chin on her knees, watching the ship for any sign of Jack's return, and prayed most fervently that Michael Owens, especially, would be spared. The boy had been through too much already in his short life, having been orphaned at eleven and subsequently mistreated by a tyrant of a mistress before Jack had taken him on as Cabin Boy.
Finally, figures were seen coming down the rope ladder to the longboat: the rowers, and Jack…and then they were followed by Miriam, Gibbs and several others! Harry jumped to her feet, clasping her hands in anticipation as the boat was rowed to shore again. Jack didn't say anything until they'd landed, but there was a smile on his face.
He jumped out of the boat. "It's chicken pox!" he said, almost laughing. The announcement was for everyone, but his open arms were for Harry and she ran to him, right through the water, and fell into his embrace.
They hugged each other for a long moment. "God, I was so scared," he murmured against her hair, so that only she could hear. Tears stung her eyes and she tightened her arms around him.
Miriam Lightfoot, observing the couple's joy, lifted a brow and smiled at her husband. Then she said to Rachel, "Is there a chance you have oatmeal in the pantry at Island House?"
"There's a ten pound sack—Lady Harry brought it from Port Royal. I know what you're thinkin': oatmeal baths!"
Miriam smiled and nodded. "The three are very uncomfortable with itching, and are very feverish as well, although not dangerously so. But an oatmeal bath would help with both!"
Harry, breaking a little away from Jack, turned and said: "I've the loveliest bathtub—it's lined with porcelain, and painted with cherubs and satyrs and roses and things. We could use it!"
"We'd best take it to the ship, though," said Jack. "No need exposing the whole plantation to illness, even if it is just chicken pox."
"Yes, you're right," said Rachel. "Most of us have had it at one time or another, but some folks take it harder than others and it's best to stay clear of it if you can."
"I had it when I was six," Harry reminisced. "I made Weatherby read to me for hours! He was very good at it—he could do all the voices! He was very glad when I was well enough to read to myself!"
"No doubt of that!" Jack said, grinning.
"Well, now I can return the kindness," Harry said. "I'll fetch some of my favorite books, and a few clothes and come help nurse the invalids. You won't mind me staying on the Pearl again?" she added, her eyes twinkling into his.
"No, can't say that I would," Jack drawled, giving her a surreptitious pinch on the backside, and smirking at her startled gasp.
o-o-o
The next ten days were tiring but happy for everyone. Even the invalids were as content as they could be, for they had never experienced such pampering in their lives. The bathtub, which was a work of art decadent enough to bring a blush to Miriam Lightfoot's cheek, was set up in the crew's quarters and put to excellent use. Owens and the men took turns sitting in lukewarm, freshwater baths fortified with finely ground oatmeal and, rather to their chagrin, a drop of Harry's Attar of Roses. Jack's cook, Anatole, supplied with luxuries from the island, did his utmost to concoct delicacies that would tempt the appetite of the most finicky victim of the malady. Alphonse, whom Jack had paid handsomely for his work in preparing him for the wedding, took it on himself to assume the role of head nurse, having done so many times for his really rather annoying master, Beauvais, whom the valet was having grave second thoughts about rejoining. The valet's underlings in the sickroom included the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham herself, for she made herself available at all times and would take on any task she was given, much to the man's surprise: he would like to have seen his former master grinding oatmeal, or coaxing an ailing young one to eat, or reading aloud to the invalids for hours! She tried to be unobtrusive, as well, moving about quietly when her charges slept, and speaking in a quiet tone. Her only fault was that she would forget to eat or sleep herself, unless reminded. But when she began to look too worn--and Alphonse soon grew to be aware of her every mood and expression—the valet would go in search of Captain Sparrow, who would take her off to his cabin for a much-needed respite.
Jack had moved the Pearl to the little secret cove on the west side of the island on the morning after their arrival. "Pearl's Rest" Harry had dubbed it the first time she'd seen it, and the name had stuck. Jack set the majority of his crew to work rebuilding the dock in the little cove, clearing the paths that led through the wood and round the edge of the island to the plantation house, and helping the plantation residents with various projects. In order to provide a quiet space for the sufferers, these crewmembers stayed at Island House at night, filling the many bedrooms and feeling pampered themselves, what with real beds, good food, and interestingly different work to do during the day. Evenings were a great pleasure, everyone partaking of the island's excellent rum, and lingering on the wide veranda in back of the house which looked to the sea.
Jack himself worked as hard as anyone, although he took frequent breaks to check on Owens and the others, and to visit with Harry. At least once a day he would coax Harry off the ship, though she never could seem to lose her fear of heights and of negotiating the rope ladder. Once on shore, however, her mood would brighten again and they had great fun exploring the portions of the island that were near Pearl's Rest. It was a beautiful place, and they found several spots that were ideally suited to activities they would normally reserve for Jack's cabin aboard the Black Pearl.
Harry also insisted that Jack resume instructing her in the art of swordplay. He was by no means averse to this, and also presented her with a beautiful dagger, telling her that it would be as well if she learned to use that weapon properly, too: with a pirate captain for a lover, who knew what adventures lay around the corner? Always best to be prepared! She, and Owens when he began to rise from his sickbed, practiced throwing their weapons daily, although a small fracas had to be smoothed over when Harry nearly impaled Alphonse as he came through the door at an inopportune moment.
Harry and Jack were practicing with the swords on the beach one afternoon, a week and a half after the Pearl's arrival. Owens and the other convalescents were watching, for they were now allowed on deck to take a little sun and air if they would remain quiet. Harry seemed, unaccountably, to be the more aggressive of the two this day, and finally Jack broke off in the middle of a sequence and backed away, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.
"What's wrong? Are you all right?" asked Harry, concerned at this unprecedented occurrence. She dropped her sword and came to him, noting with some concern that he looked a little pale under his tan, his eyes unnaturally bright. And there was something else. She stared, then began to unbutton his shirt.
"What are you doing?" Jack complained. "Got a devilish headache is all." But then he saw what she was looking at: spots on his chest, and on his abdomen as she opened more of his shirt. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed in consternation.
"I thought you said you'd had it!" Harry said accusingly.
He looked at her, and said in dismay, "I thought I had! Maybe…" He tried to think back. "Maybe it was measles I had."
Harry shook her head. "All right, my lad. Back to the Pearl and to bed with you!"
By that night the symptoms had taken hold with a vengeance, and he knew he was for it indeed, as were Harry and Alphonse, who nursed him.
He had rarely been abed with illness since early childhood, but, having endured many episodes of compulsory inactivity due to various wounds received in the course of his career, he had learned to be a reasonably good patient and refrained from complaining more than a few times a day of his splitting head and feverish aching, and the abominable itching; the temperature of the cabin (too cold, or, alternately, too hot); the rough feel of his pillows and bedclothes; the slight but persistent nausea that made him refuse even Anatole's most careful creations; his terrible thirst, and no, he didn't want any tea! And couldn't they add just a bit more rum to the water, and perhaps there was still some ice to be had, would they please send to the house to ask Rachel. He spent a great deal of time in the oatmeal baths Harry and Alphonse prepared for him at any hour of the day or night, for none of the others had been as full of spots as he, and he was, as a result, extremely uncomfortable for a solid week. After that, fortunately for all of them, the symptoms began to slowly abate, more rest could be had by the trio, and frayed tempers began to mend.
They had a difficult time keeping him abed, once he began to recover, though the brief excursions left him rather exhausted. He began to receive more visitors but, instead of making him more accepting of his confinement, this made him long to be up and doing. They had been at St. Claire three weeks, now, and he felt it was high time they thought of returning to sea: they'd miss the Spanish treasure ships altogether if they lingered much longer! If only he wasn't as weak as a cat!
One afternoon toward the end of the second week of his illness, Harry came in to check on him and found maps and charts strewn across the big table along with a straight-edge and pen which showed signs of having been abruptly discarded, and a half-empty tankard of rum sitting next to them. Jack was in bed with the covers pulled up to his eyes, which were bright with laughter and guilt.
She stalked over to the bed, trying to look severe. "And just what have you been doing here, my lad?" She shook her head. "I don't know what you deserve!"
A brown hand snaked from under the covers to catch her wrist and draw her toward him. "You can think of something creative," he said slyly, his guilty look giving way to a glint of playfulness.
She gave a snort of laughter. "Feel better today, do we?"
"I am, a bit. But perhaps we should see how you feel?" he replied, and embarked on a slow and thorough investigation of this question.
Much later Harry lay close beside him, watching him as he slept. He was half turned toward her with one arm flung over her waist, quite spent by the preceding interlude. Madness, she thought, running light fingers over his tangled hair. But, then again, madness is often very underrated. And she closed her eyes and opened herself to the moment of peace and happiness that had been granted them.
o-o-o
The Black Pearl had lain at anchor nearly a month when Jack finally set the day of their departure. Harry's was not the only heart that ached at the thought, for AnaMaria was going too, this time, and Judah wore a very solemn look as the pirate packed her things and took them back to the ship.
Harry pasted a smile on her face and busied herself with seeing that the Black Pearl was well provisioned with every commodity and luxury that could be spared. In a month or so she would have to return to Port Royal to get more supplies, but in the meantime she could not deny Jack and the crew the island's best, for they had done so much to help with the rebuilding of the plantation that the work was nearly complete. Harry and the other residents would soon be able to concentrate on next year's sugar cane crop, and ultimately with the production of what she hoped would be the finest rum in the Caribbean. She had her work to do, as Jack had his, however unlawful.
He planned to sail the Black Pearl into the Western Caribbean, and hoped to catch and raid a Spanish treasure ship. This enterprise was fraught with peril, Harry knew, for those ships were huge and ran heavily armed and would not be easy prey. Harry wondered briefly if she would ever see her love again, but then sternly pushed the thought aside. She had chosen to give her heart to one whose life was ever at risk, and the only way to cope with this was to live in the moment, absorbing every bit of joy they were allowed and using the memory of that joy as a shield against fear.
On the last night, they stood on the quarterdeck together, looking out across the water. Jack had brought the Pearl round to the South Bay again, and the ship swayed gently in the slight chop and swell. There was a storm coming, and Jack's face was already alight with anticipation. And Harry, looking toward the far horizon, understood that the Black Pearl was his home, and she must be content with her little corner of his heart, which truly belonged to the sea.