A Tale of Two Captains, Chapter 6
By Khylaren and CinnamonGrrl
Jack reeled back dramatically, his own dark brows raising with skepticism. "So, you're going to do what? Hang me here?"
"Yes, actually," was the commodore's reply. "I rather thought I would." A heavy silence fell at his words, and it seemed that the entire crew of the Black Pearl was holding its breath.
"Ye can't do that!" Gibbs exclaimed finally, able to contain himself no longer. "And after all Jack's done to save Mr. Turner and Miss Swann… that's barbaric, that is!"
Norrington frowned. "I shall be honest, sir, and say that I am not happy with this outcome. However, I as an agent of the Crown cannot turn a blind eye to the actions of a notorious pirate, no matter the good he has done recently." He was not pleased to see Sparrow preening at being called "notorious".
"There's got to be some other penalty ye can slap on him," Gibbs insisted. "How about... how about..." The man paused, obviously wracking his brains for some sort of solution to the problem. His face went slack in relief as he thought of something. "There's this old belief in the town I come from that the reason a man turns lawless is because he hasn't the moralizin' influence of a woman at his side." Ignoring the sounds of disbelief from those surrounding him, Gibbs pressed on. "There's a law, goes back t'Arthur it does, that a man be saved from the block or scaffold if a woman takes him to husband."
"Indeed, Mister Gibbs. Do go on," Norrington feigned interest.
Gibbs looked pleadingly at Anamaria, upon whose face dawned an apprehensive understanding of what he was going to say. "Ye're not wed, lass. Ye could marry with Jack and spare his life."
Anamaria scowled. "You're daft, man!"
Jack's kohl-lined eyes widened until it appeared they would fall from his sockets. "Let's not be hasty, gents," he said as persuasively as he could muster. Anamaria's furious glare turned on him. "It's just that, kind offer though it may be, I'm sure Anamaria wants nothing to do with the likes of me," he tried to amend.
"I could put up with you, if I were to own half the Pearl," she replied quickly, eyes alight with avarice. "For half of it, I'll marry you, Jack. I'll even bed you proper, whenever you like."
"Ah, but I could not do that to you, lass," Jack demurred, this time with a tinge more panic in his voice. "'Twould be a hard life, that of a pirate's wife. You'd be latched to me forever, and 'tis clear you're not overfond of me to begin with."
"You'll probably die soon," Anamaria said, and there was something in her voice that made the hair stand up on the back of Jack's neck. "I mean, in a raid, or some such," she continued, and smiled innocently.
Jack turned to Norrington. "I would very much like to be hanged now, if you don't mind overmuch, Commodore," he said. "Better a quick and easy death than… the alternative."
But Norrington's lips had begun to twitch, and as they all watched in a sort of horrified fascination, he began to laugh. Having never seen the man even smile before, Jack found it most unnerving. When he finally stopped, the commodore wiped at his eyes and gasped a little for breath. "I think, Captain Sparrow, that a lengthy span of time being pecked to death by this woman would be more than adequate recompense for all your previous offenses."
His lips twitched again, and for a moment, all present thought they would witness yet another bout of laughter, but his expression remained tightly controlled. "I rather like this idea, Mister Gibbs." From the gleam in his eye, the thought of Sparrow being wed to a harpy such as Anamaria for the rest of his days pleased him well indeed.
"I disagree," Jack protested. The whites of his eyes were visible all round the pupils, and he was visibly straining in the opposite direction of Anamaria. "I've been far, far worse than such a minor punishment deserves. I impersonated a clergyman! A Spanish naval officer! I'm guilty of depravity, depredation, and general lawlessness, remember? Surely that means I should swing."
His eyes pled appealingly with Norrington, but that only sent the man into yet more gales of laughter. Upon sobering, he gasped, "Indeed. I am forced to admit that while pretending to be a priest is a serious offense—not to mention highly ironical-- none of your other acts of piracy have been anywhere near as violent or debauched as that of your counterparts. You have effectively demonstrated on more than one occasion a major flaw in character with regards to your inclination for piracy -- namely, your own sense of honour."
He was obviously enjoying watching Jack squirm. "Therefore, despite your beliefs to the contrary, perhaps hanging is not the answer at all. If the good lady," here he paused, his lips twitching again, "will give her consent to wed you, then I shall see it done and consider your sentence passed."
"I give it," Anamaria intoned.
It sounded like a death knell to Jack. "What about me?" he demanded. "I don't bloody well give my consent!"
"Must it be Anamaria whom he marries?" asked another voice suddenly. A female voice. Jack watched in amazement and, he might someday freely admit, not a little relief as Janeway pushed her way to the centre of the crowd. "Or can any woman pay for his life with her hand?"
Ordinarily, Jack would have recoiled from the idea of marrying the woman. She was too willful by half, and far too dishonest for his taste. If there were to be lies between them, it suited him much better that he be the one committing them. He also believed quite firmly that she'd not overlook his little tendency to share the wealth, as it were, of his person with other ladies. And then there was the matter of his fondness for drink.. in spite of her ability to sock it away on a par with him, he was sure she would not accept a sot for a mate for any extended period of time.
Then the stormy face of Anamaria caught his eye, and in spite of his determination to at least pretend not to be terrified of the notion, he flinched, and looked longingly at the rope that was dangling from the hand of one of Norrington's men. Gibbs was right—it was dreadful bad luck to have women aboard.
~ * ~
Janeway watched in dismay as the commodore and his men climbed aboard the Black Pearl. They looked every inch as stuffy as one might imagine naval officers being, and she wondered if that were how she appeared to younger officers—stuffy and remote, unapproachable and humourless and… the sound of Norrington's laughter ringing out jolted her from her little reverie.
She squeezed between Matelot and Kursar, still hanging back where she could listen, unobserved, to the exchange between Jack and the Commodore. Gibbs was blathering on about finding someone to marry Jack, instead of having him hang, and she felt a profound pang of pity for the poor soul who'd attach herself to the man. Jack was attractive in a deranged sort of way, but the idea of being hitched to him for life… she shuddered.
Then she saw Anamaria answer favourably to the notion, and shuddered again. Anamaria was a true pirate; she was out to take what she could, and give nothing back. Jack didn't deserve that fate. He had been kind to her, in his fashion, and Janeway knew she couldn't allow him to die if she had the means to prevent it.
And thus it was with a bit of a sense of horror, as if watching from a great distance, that she found herself pushing her way forward to address the Commodore. "Must it be Anamaria who he marries?" she asked calmly. "Or can any woman pay for his life with her hand?"
Norrington's eyes rounded with surprise before his face composed its usual neutral mask. "I would have your name, madam, and how you came to be aboard the Black Pearl with this contingent of scalawags."
"Pay her no mind, Commodore," Jack cut in just as Janeway opened her mouth to answer. "She's me brother's wife's sister." He made a little motion with his finger towards his head, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Poor lass, she took a knock to the head a few years back and hasn't been right since."
Janeway shot him a look that would have melted a lesser man before directing her gaze back to Norrington. "My name is Kathryn Janeway," she told him.
"Miss Janeway," Norrington acknowledged, and nodded curtly, waiting for her to continue, but Jack interrupted.
"Shall we repair to my cabin for this discussion?" Jack asked expansively, gesturing with a languid wave of the arm in that direction. "Cotton, a bottle of the Picard '47, if you please." He shot a half-grin toward Janeway and the commodore. "Only the best for guests of the Black Pearl."
Janeway blinked as she followed Jack's distinctive, swaying walk to his cabin, Norrington on her heels. Picard '47? Good Lord, she mused, how old was Jean-Luc's bloody vineyard? This was beginning to feel almost frighteningly surreal.
Once they were seated around the heavily carved dining table, delicate goblets of fragrant and doubtlessly extremely potent red wine in their hands, Norrington bid Janeway to continue.
"I was a passenger on Le Voyageur," Janeway told him, her gaze never leaving the commodore's face. She knew perfectly well how to play a bluff, and eye contact was a must. "It wrecked in a storm, and the Black Pearl rescued me. I've been treated with nothing but civility since I arrived, and would prefer not to see my host treated in this way." At this, she turned to glance at Jack. His own dark eyes were locked on her, unfathomably deep, and she felt yet another frisson of awareness of him shoot down her spine.
How much of this effort of yours is only because you can't stand to see a man be executed? insinuated a tiny, rebellious voice in the back of her head. She ignored it, lifting her chin another centimeter.
"And your companions?" the commodore asked. "Did any others survive from Le Voyageur?"
Janeway lowered her eyes, apparently stricken with grief. "I'm afraid not," she said at last. From her right, a sound issued from Jack that sounded suspiciously like choked-back laughter. She aimed a poisonously sweet smile at him, and was gratified to see him sober quickly, though he stared hard down into his goblet as if it held the answers to all the mysteries of the world.
"I see." Norrington took a cautious sip of his wine, staring at it in pleased surprise. "Where was your point of departure?
"I departed from… Calais," Janeway replied with the tiniest of hesitations, and damned herself for paying more attention to science and spatial anomalies than the geography of Europe during her education.
"And your destination?"
Janeway scoured her mind for another island in the Caribbean, specifically, a French one. "Martinique," she said at last.
"For what purpose?"
Janeway frowned. "My business there is my own," she said, taking care to keep her tone neutral.
Norrington did not answer; instead, he swirled the wine round his glass, watching the red tinge as it sluiced down the gently curved sides, before glancing up to study her. "And your family?" he inquired. "I cannot imagine the family of a woman of your station would willingly allow you to travel alone across the ocean."
"Of my station?" Janeway's brows lifted nearly to her hairline. "What station would that be?"
His pale gaze raked over her again. "I observe," he began, grasping her hand and turning it palm-up, "that your hands are not rough; rather, they are soft and well cared-for. Therefore, you do not work with them." He relinquished her hand, returning his own to cupping the bowl of his wine glass. "And there remains the issue of your speech."
"My speech?" There was nothing she could do about her Midwestern American accent, but surely she hadn't embarrassed herself too badly?
"Your diction," he elaborated. "I am unfamiliar with the pronunciation, but it is clear to me you have been gently reared and educated." He sipped from his goblet. "I cannot permit such an uneven union between you and a pirate."
He thought she was nobility? Janeway goggled at him a moment before straightening her shoulders. "Believe me, Commodore, my blood is just as red as everyone else's."
He mused over that a moment. "Your father is a professional man, then? Doctor, lawyer… minister?"
The idea of her father, Admiral Edward Janeway, being any of those things threatened to make her laugh. "No," she managed to say. "He was a… sea-captain." She felt, rather than saw, Jack's glance of speculation at that. "His ship was the Courageous, a merchant vessel."
"And successful enough to provide for your education," Norrington finished for her. She could only nod. "So then, Miss Janeway, not nobility are you, but good yeoman stock. It is still evident that you are not accustomed to a life such as would be had on this ship. There will be much strife, much violence and bloodshed. The breaking of law and morality will be a common, likely daily, occurrence."
Might as well brazen it out, Janeway thought. "A little strife never bothered me, Commodore," she replied, careful to keep her tone dulcet and her gaze mild. It would never do to have Norrington think she was some sort of strident shrew. It seemed to work, because a little of the suspicion was replaced in his gaze with a rather alarming bit of admiration. Beside her, Jack coughed. It sounded grumpy, if a cough could sound that way.
"And then there is the issue of the actual marriage," Norrington continued. "Have you given any thought whatsoever to what wedding a pirate would entail? I think we can all acknowledge that fidelity will rarely, if ever, be a part of the bargain."
Janeway smiled. "Yes, Jack will have to put up with my seeking… entertainment… elsewhere on occasion," she said demurely, "but I think we can come to an agreement." Yes, she knew it was an unwise thing to say, but dammit, this Commodore fellow was really beginning to get on her nerves. Jack threw back his head and laughed, then approvingly slapped her on the shoulder hard enough to almost jar her from the chair.
It was worth it to observe how Norrington's eyes widened in horror. Then he saw how her mouth was twitching with amusement, and nodded shortly. "I see you will have your jest," he said tightly. "Still, I cannot allow you to marry Mr. Sparrow. Even if you are not noble, still your family's status is far above—"
"Captain," said the man himself, setting down his goblet on the table with great exactitude and precision. "It's Captain Sparrow." In spite of his lazy grace as he lounged in his chair, there was an aura of tension in him. Norrington was insulting the man, to his face no less, about his low birth and lack of standing; Janeway was not surprised he was tense. She was surprised, however, to realize how irritated it made her to see him maligned so blatantly.
"Just so," Norrington answered with a great deal of evident dislike. "As I was saying, I cannot in good conscience permit you to marry Captain Sparrow. It would be a match of grave impropriety."
"I do thank you for your concern, Commodore," Janeway replied, clasping her hands together to control their angry shaking, "but as I am certainly above the age of consent, I am free to marry who I choose. If I have no problem with such a liaison, I see little reason that you should."
The commodore's eyes narrowed in annoyance. It seemed the end of his patience had been reached. "The problem, Miss Janeway, is that it is positively unconscionable to allow a well-bred woman to wed a pirate! This man wages battle on innocent merchants and sailors—men like your own father-- killing indiscriminately out of greed, because he can't be bothered to make a decent living! To bind your life to his would mean espousing a life of thievery and death! He--"
The sound of Jack's palm, slapping the table hard enough to make the wine glasses rattle, interrupted Norrington's diatribe. "I will remind you, Commodore, that you know little about me, and nothing whatsoever of my motivations," Jack said, low and smooth but somehow impossibly menacing as well. The lower-class accent had fled from his voice, as well. Norrington looked more intrigued by that than by the fact he was angering what Janeway could easily see was, for all his odd ways and easygoing nature, a very dangerous man.
"Come now, Commodore," he prompted, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. "Have I ever given you cause to doubt me?" He paused. "Some might not speak the truth, when they give their word—say, a lovely young lass who promises to wed the stalwart yet stodgy naval officer in order to save the man she actually loves—but not me." He smiled sunnily at them. "No, not Captain Jack Sparrow."