A New Life
Part 6
The Characters are owned by Disney - just playing. Rated: PG for language and situations To read this with pictures - visit
Author's Note: I want to thank all of you for your kind words and encouragement - and my new beta reader, Julie Moran. Thank you, Julie.
___________________________________________________________________
This time as Jack woke, the warmth of Sugar against him was gone. Without opening his eyes he knew there'd been a change in the wind. The ship was riding more roughly. Somewhere not too far away someone was playing a small accordian. They weren't very good at it.
Opening his eyes, Jack observed that instead of the lovely Lady Catherine, the chair beside his bed was occupied by a huge man. His head was dropping down to his chest and nasally breathing was coming in and out of him. His clothes were a bit on the dandified side, and Jack observed the little tassels here and there, figuring up that the tax alone would have been significant. They were not terribly clean clothes and had seen better times.
Atop the large man's head was an even larger powdered wig. It's overall shape reminded Jack of a pumpkin. Not terribly well kept, little hairs were springing out of the curls of the wig on either side of the man's temples. So, Jack theorized, this man had money once, but probably does not have much now.
Jack would have been content just observing the man, except that all the broth the Lady Catherine had fed him now wanted to find its way out of him. Squirming, Jack tentatively wiggled his hips. That was not good. Even the slight movement sent pain up his left arm. His right arm reached to support the injured one, and he moved his right leg over the edge of the bed until he had one foot on the floor.
The position, Jack belatedly realized, was not the most helpful one for a person who needed to right himself. Half-turning to his right, he used his right arm and left leg to rise, until he could get his left leg off the bed.
Somehow he managed to sit on the edge of the bed, both feet on the floor, and contemplate the effects of gravity and momentum on his injured shoulder in a most colorful way as sparks shot off inside his eyes. He closed them, taking several deep breaths to erase the effects and overcome the sensation of dizziness. He was the commander of his own body, he kept telling himself. Yes, Jack old boy, just breathe and you'll get your sea legs back in no time.
Sleeping Pumpkin Head didn't seem aware of any of Jack's movements. Opening his own eyes, Jack wondered exactly where he would find the head and if he could physically walk to it. Aboard the Resolute, Holmes had at least found something to serve as a urinal for bodily needs. Jack didn't see anything that would serve here.
He decided waking Pumpkin Head was the only answer, and he used his left foot to gently kick the man's leg. "Sir," Jack said, remembering before he uttered another word to use his Thomas Wells voice. "I need to use the head, sir."
The giant's be-wigged head rose as the man sat up fully, looking even more enormous. "Oh, Mr. Wells, you're awake," the man said slowly. He had a well-educated diction, which spoke of wealth and schools in the south of England.
Jack flashed a very brief smile to acknowledge the obvious. "I need to relieve myself."
"Well," Pumpkin Head studied him as he spoke, "you're certainly not fit enough to leave this room, Mr. Wells. We have thought of that." Jack wondered if Pumpkin Head was speaking in the Imperial "we," or if he'd conferred with other people about this natural but somewhat embarrassing function. ".and we have a solution for you. I brought this from the sick bay." He reached beneath the got and slid out a chamber pot, bringing it to rest between Jack's two feet.
Jack studied the metallic receptacle for a moment. It dawned upon him that he was supposed to relieve himself in the sitting position, something Jack had never been able to do since he'd been a toddler. "I have to stand," he announced, his eyes raising to meet Pumpkin Head's to emphasize his point.
Now that he was awake, Pumpkin Head's full face was illuminated by the light of the candles on the nightstand. He had very pale blue eyes, a long straight nose, and his brows were such a pale shade of red-blond they almost disappeared on his face. He nodded to Jack's words. "Well, many a man has told me that before."
Jack began to wonder what sort of person Pumpkin Head was that man would say such things to him. His eyes narrowed. "Who are you, sir?"
"I'm Dr. Calvin, the ship's surgeon," Pumpkin Head introduced himself.
Things were beginning to make sense. "Ah. I see." Jack took a breath. "Well, then, Dr. Calvin, would you be so kind as to."
"You'll not be able to do this by yourself," Dr. Calvin interrupted. So much for manners, Jack thought.
Gritting his teeth, and sure of himself, Jack attempted to stand. His bottom got perhaps two inches off the bed, before it fell back down. He was shaky and weak. The Doctor knew his stuff. He looked back up at the man and decided to rename him Doctor Pumpkin Head.
"Let me help," the man offered. "We don't want you fainting again."
That stung. Jack held up his chin, wishing at the moment that he had a bottle of rum not only to drink from, but to whack Dr. Pumpkin Head over his big white wig with before he drank from it. "I do not faint."
"You passed out right in front of Commodore Norrington."
At least he didn't smile as he made this announcement. Jack looked away, trying to remember. "I did not."
"You did so. Turned white as a sheet and passed out. The Commodore was not expecting this, unfortunately, so you kept going right to the floor."
Oh, Lord, the shame! Jack thought. Fainting like a young maiden right in front of Norrington. And Groves. He rolled his eyes heavenward for some strength. "Fine. Help me stand, then." He remembered again he was Thomas. "Please," he added.
Rising from his chair, Dr. Calvin seemed to grow like some plume of smoke rising from a volcano, filling Jack's entire field of view. The man had to be at least six foot six! He reached to help him as Jack used his right arm to push off the bed. The doctor's hands were are large as the rest of him, and both went to hold Jack's left arm; his injured arm. Pulling Jack up as he stood.
A stifled almost gurgling noise was all Jack managed. The pain in his shoulder seemed to shoot right up into his brain, setting off a whole new panorama of sparkling lights. He barely heard the Doctor say, "Oh dear," then Jack was back on the bedside, the world around him suddenly going dark.
He fought not to pass out again. "Do not," he said in a very commanding voice, "touch that arm again."
"I thought you were going to faint for sure," Dr. Pumpkin Head said. "Sorry, I forgot about the arm. I'll move around to the other side."
Yes, Jack thought, you do that. Keep those monstrous hands away from me.
"Shall we try again? Have you got your wind back?"
"It's not my wind that is the problem," Jack said evenly. "All right. Let's try again." He prayed he wouldn't pass out, further embarrassing himself.
This time, Dr. Calvin practically lifted Jack up by his right arm. That worked better. Jack stood on wobbly legs looking down at the chamber pot so far below. First things first, he thought as he tried to move his right arm to unbutton the flap on his breeches.
"Allow me," Dr. Pumpkin Head said, moving his left arm to support Jack around the waist and using his right arm to reach for the buttons.
Jack slapped the hand away. "I'll do it." He cast the man a black look. "I'm not an invalid."
He unfastened his breeches then looked at the pot on the floor. "Seeing as you're a professional and all," Jack said, "may I ask you a question?"
"Certainly," Dr. Calvin said.
Twisting his head to look up at the giant of a man beside him, Jack asked, "Won't it splash right out from here?"
"An acute observation. You need to pick the pot up."
Jack wet his lips. "I don't think I can do that, sir."
"You could sit."
"Not an option."
"Then, allow me to get it for you." Dr. Calvin reached down and picked up the chamber pot.
"Sir, you are truly an humanitarian," Jack said with a sigh of relief.
With his business was done, Dr. Calvin set the pot back on the floor and slid it with one of his massive feet back under the bed. He then held Jack steady while Jack refastened his pants.
"I'll help you sit," Dr. Calvin announced, moving around in front of Jack.
Putting both hands on Jack's waist, he lifted Jack up, back, then down onto the bed.
"Now, before you lay down, let me put some pillows behind you, and you can sit up for a while. I want to examine your wound, then I want you to have something to eat."
"Something more than broth I hope," Jack mumbled.
The Doctor pulled some pillows down from behind the head of the bed, then helped Jack sit back, lifting his legs in an overall mothering manor. Jack liked it better when Lady Catherine mothered him. When she bent forward, the view of her decoupage was much more enjoyable.
"Are we comfortable?" Dr. Calvin asked, a grin on his face.
"We are," Jack announced imperiously.
"Then let me just examine the wound." Dr. Calvin took the candelabra from the shelf beside the bed and held it in his right hand as he bent over Jack and moved his shirt aside with his left.
Jack watched the way the man held the lit candles and wondered if Dr. Pumpkin Head was going to set his wig on fire. "Watch yourself, Doctor," Jack mumbled.
"I won't hurt you."
"No, watch yourself," Jack emphasized. "You've got the candles nigh on top of your fancy wig."
Dr. Calvin jerked the candles forward. The unfortunate result was that hot wax splashed onto Jack's chest, some right onto his still red and swollen wound. He hissed in pain, his head jerking back in response, slamming into the wood directly behind him.
"Oh, dear," Dr. Pumpkin Head said, "I am so sorry. Here." He had something in his left hand, Jack couldn't see what, and went to wipe the wax off with it.
The touch of even the slightest pressure on the wound sent adrenaline pumping through Jack's veins and he used his good right arm to push the massive man away. "Off!"
"My, my," Dr. Pumpkin Head straightened. "The wound does not look good. I think you're feverish."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "It would look a bit better if you didn't spill on it."
"I'm so sorry." Dr. Pumpkin Head put the candelabra back on its shelf sat down in his chair. "I'm a bit clumsy some times."
"A bit?" Jack agreed, still seething at the unintended assault on his person. He reached with his good arm to rub the back of his now aching head.
"That's why I'm here, at sea, I'm afraid," Dr. Calvin admitted.
"What ya'mean?" Jack was caught off guard.
"Well, you see, I was a successful physician, practicing my arts, when I had a little accident one day that caused a permanent damage to someone in the Royal family." He looked very remorseful. "I lost my customers, my reputation, and my only resort was to join the Navy."
"It doesn't hurt much," Jack lied.
"Well, I do apologize."
Dr. Calvin still held the fluttery thing he'd attempted to wipe Jack with, and Jack now saw it was a lace-edged handkerchief.
"You have a lot of little accidents?" Jack asked him.
The man nodded.
"I have a theory about such things." Resettling himself against the pillows. "You can't let one thing get you off, or it turns into a series of things, savvy? You lose your own self-respect and you practically cause things to happen. I knew a fellow like that once upon a time."
"Well, Mr. Wells, you're certainly not cursed with clumsiness, like me," Dr. Calvin looked him right in the eye.
"No, it really was a young fellow I knew. He ended up washed overboard. Bad luck."
"Or the curse of having two-left feet," Dr. Calvin added.
Both men sat in silence for a moment.
"Dr. Calvin?"
"Yes."
"Tell me. Is Lady Catherine. I mean, has she a beau, a suitor?" Jack asked carefully.
"Not that I'm aware of." Dr. Calvin's gaze met Jack's. "Are you volunteering for the part?"
"She is quite lovely, isn't she? Far too above me in station, I'm sure, but maybe she'd fancy a little.sport." Jack knew he shouldn't be talking to this man about such things, but Dr. Calvin had just confided in him and Jack felt a need to show his own feelings to the man. He couldn't talk about his biggest secret, so a little one would have to do.
"She is very kind," Dr. Calvin said slowly. "I don't think she's the kind to get into sport, as you put it. I think she's the kind who falls in love for good." His gaze roamed over Jack, as if taking his measure. "You're a hansom man, Mr. Wells. Do you go around breaking ladies' hearts?"
Jack put his hand to his chest, his eyes going wide in innocence. "Me?"
"Don't try that on me," Dr. Calvin chuckled. "I'm well aware there's more to you than meets the eye."
"I'll have you know," Jack said seriously, "Most women end up slapping me for no good reason. It's my heart that gets broken." He thought for a moment. "It's probably because I can't stay in one place. I'm prone to falling into adventures, you see."
Dr. Calvin sighed. "My life has not been an adventure. The work of a ship's surgeon is not pretty. Speaking of such, I'll just empty this out," he reached for the chamber pot, "and bring you something fortifying."
Jack watched the man as he stood, again filling the entire small cabin with his height and breadth, then left. Idly Jack hoped Dr. Calvin washed his hands between one thing and another.
To Be Continued.
The Characters are owned by Disney - just playing. Rated: PG for language and situations To read this with pictures - visit
Author's Note: I want to thank all of you for your kind words and encouragement - and my new beta reader, Julie Moran. Thank you, Julie.
___________________________________________________________________
This time as Jack woke, the warmth of Sugar against him was gone. Without opening his eyes he knew there'd been a change in the wind. The ship was riding more roughly. Somewhere not too far away someone was playing a small accordian. They weren't very good at it.
Opening his eyes, Jack observed that instead of the lovely Lady Catherine, the chair beside his bed was occupied by a huge man. His head was dropping down to his chest and nasally breathing was coming in and out of him. His clothes were a bit on the dandified side, and Jack observed the little tassels here and there, figuring up that the tax alone would have been significant. They were not terribly clean clothes and had seen better times.
Atop the large man's head was an even larger powdered wig. It's overall shape reminded Jack of a pumpkin. Not terribly well kept, little hairs were springing out of the curls of the wig on either side of the man's temples. So, Jack theorized, this man had money once, but probably does not have much now.
Jack would have been content just observing the man, except that all the broth the Lady Catherine had fed him now wanted to find its way out of him. Squirming, Jack tentatively wiggled his hips. That was not good. Even the slight movement sent pain up his left arm. His right arm reached to support the injured one, and he moved his right leg over the edge of the bed until he had one foot on the floor.
The position, Jack belatedly realized, was not the most helpful one for a person who needed to right himself. Half-turning to his right, he used his right arm and left leg to rise, until he could get his left leg off the bed.
Somehow he managed to sit on the edge of the bed, both feet on the floor, and contemplate the effects of gravity and momentum on his injured shoulder in a most colorful way as sparks shot off inside his eyes. He closed them, taking several deep breaths to erase the effects and overcome the sensation of dizziness. He was the commander of his own body, he kept telling himself. Yes, Jack old boy, just breathe and you'll get your sea legs back in no time.
Sleeping Pumpkin Head didn't seem aware of any of Jack's movements. Opening his own eyes, Jack wondered exactly where he would find the head and if he could physically walk to it. Aboard the Resolute, Holmes had at least found something to serve as a urinal for bodily needs. Jack didn't see anything that would serve here.
He decided waking Pumpkin Head was the only answer, and he used his left foot to gently kick the man's leg. "Sir," Jack said, remembering before he uttered another word to use his Thomas Wells voice. "I need to use the head, sir."
The giant's be-wigged head rose as the man sat up fully, looking even more enormous. "Oh, Mr. Wells, you're awake," the man said slowly. He had a well-educated diction, which spoke of wealth and schools in the south of England.
Jack flashed a very brief smile to acknowledge the obvious. "I need to relieve myself."
"Well," Pumpkin Head studied him as he spoke, "you're certainly not fit enough to leave this room, Mr. Wells. We have thought of that." Jack wondered if Pumpkin Head was speaking in the Imperial "we," or if he'd conferred with other people about this natural but somewhat embarrassing function. ".and we have a solution for you. I brought this from the sick bay." He reached beneath the got and slid out a chamber pot, bringing it to rest between Jack's two feet.
Jack studied the metallic receptacle for a moment. It dawned upon him that he was supposed to relieve himself in the sitting position, something Jack had never been able to do since he'd been a toddler. "I have to stand," he announced, his eyes raising to meet Pumpkin Head's to emphasize his point.
Now that he was awake, Pumpkin Head's full face was illuminated by the light of the candles on the nightstand. He had very pale blue eyes, a long straight nose, and his brows were such a pale shade of red-blond they almost disappeared on his face. He nodded to Jack's words. "Well, many a man has told me that before."
Jack began to wonder what sort of person Pumpkin Head was that man would say such things to him. His eyes narrowed. "Who are you, sir?"
"I'm Dr. Calvin, the ship's surgeon," Pumpkin Head introduced himself.
Things were beginning to make sense. "Ah. I see." Jack took a breath. "Well, then, Dr. Calvin, would you be so kind as to."
"You'll not be able to do this by yourself," Dr. Calvin interrupted. So much for manners, Jack thought.
Gritting his teeth, and sure of himself, Jack attempted to stand. His bottom got perhaps two inches off the bed, before it fell back down. He was shaky and weak. The Doctor knew his stuff. He looked back up at the man and decided to rename him Doctor Pumpkin Head.
"Let me help," the man offered. "We don't want you fainting again."
That stung. Jack held up his chin, wishing at the moment that he had a bottle of rum not only to drink from, but to whack Dr. Pumpkin Head over his big white wig with before he drank from it. "I do not faint."
"You passed out right in front of Commodore Norrington."
At least he didn't smile as he made this announcement. Jack looked away, trying to remember. "I did not."
"You did so. Turned white as a sheet and passed out. The Commodore was not expecting this, unfortunately, so you kept going right to the floor."
Oh, Lord, the shame! Jack thought. Fainting like a young maiden right in front of Norrington. And Groves. He rolled his eyes heavenward for some strength. "Fine. Help me stand, then." He remembered again he was Thomas. "Please," he added.
Rising from his chair, Dr. Calvin seemed to grow like some plume of smoke rising from a volcano, filling Jack's entire field of view. The man had to be at least six foot six! He reached to help him as Jack used his right arm to push off the bed. The doctor's hands were are large as the rest of him, and both went to hold Jack's left arm; his injured arm. Pulling Jack up as he stood.
A stifled almost gurgling noise was all Jack managed. The pain in his shoulder seemed to shoot right up into his brain, setting off a whole new panorama of sparkling lights. He barely heard the Doctor say, "Oh dear," then Jack was back on the bedside, the world around him suddenly going dark.
He fought not to pass out again. "Do not," he said in a very commanding voice, "touch that arm again."
"I thought you were going to faint for sure," Dr. Pumpkin Head said. "Sorry, I forgot about the arm. I'll move around to the other side."
Yes, Jack thought, you do that. Keep those monstrous hands away from me.
"Shall we try again? Have you got your wind back?"
"It's not my wind that is the problem," Jack said evenly. "All right. Let's try again." He prayed he wouldn't pass out, further embarrassing himself.
This time, Dr. Calvin practically lifted Jack up by his right arm. That worked better. Jack stood on wobbly legs looking down at the chamber pot so far below. First things first, he thought as he tried to move his right arm to unbutton the flap on his breeches.
"Allow me," Dr. Pumpkin Head said, moving his left arm to support Jack around the waist and using his right arm to reach for the buttons.
Jack slapped the hand away. "I'll do it." He cast the man a black look. "I'm not an invalid."
He unfastened his breeches then looked at the pot on the floor. "Seeing as you're a professional and all," Jack said, "may I ask you a question?"
"Certainly," Dr. Calvin said.
Twisting his head to look up at the giant of a man beside him, Jack asked, "Won't it splash right out from here?"
"An acute observation. You need to pick the pot up."
Jack wet his lips. "I don't think I can do that, sir."
"You could sit."
"Not an option."
"Then, allow me to get it for you." Dr. Calvin reached down and picked up the chamber pot.
"Sir, you are truly an humanitarian," Jack said with a sigh of relief.
With his business was done, Dr. Calvin set the pot back on the floor and slid it with one of his massive feet back under the bed. He then held Jack steady while Jack refastened his pants.
"I'll help you sit," Dr. Calvin announced, moving around in front of Jack.
Putting both hands on Jack's waist, he lifted Jack up, back, then down onto the bed.
"Now, before you lay down, let me put some pillows behind you, and you can sit up for a while. I want to examine your wound, then I want you to have something to eat."
"Something more than broth I hope," Jack mumbled.
The Doctor pulled some pillows down from behind the head of the bed, then helped Jack sit back, lifting his legs in an overall mothering manor. Jack liked it better when Lady Catherine mothered him. When she bent forward, the view of her decoupage was much more enjoyable.
"Are we comfortable?" Dr. Calvin asked, a grin on his face.
"We are," Jack announced imperiously.
"Then let me just examine the wound." Dr. Calvin took the candelabra from the shelf beside the bed and held it in his right hand as he bent over Jack and moved his shirt aside with his left.
Jack watched the way the man held the lit candles and wondered if Dr. Pumpkin Head was going to set his wig on fire. "Watch yourself, Doctor," Jack mumbled.
"I won't hurt you."
"No, watch yourself," Jack emphasized. "You've got the candles nigh on top of your fancy wig."
Dr. Calvin jerked the candles forward. The unfortunate result was that hot wax splashed onto Jack's chest, some right onto his still red and swollen wound. He hissed in pain, his head jerking back in response, slamming into the wood directly behind him.
"Oh, dear," Dr. Pumpkin Head said, "I am so sorry. Here." He had something in his left hand, Jack couldn't see what, and went to wipe the wax off with it.
The touch of even the slightest pressure on the wound sent adrenaline pumping through Jack's veins and he used his good right arm to push the massive man away. "Off!"
"My, my," Dr. Pumpkin Head straightened. "The wound does not look good. I think you're feverish."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "It would look a bit better if you didn't spill on it."
"I'm so sorry." Dr. Pumpkin Head put the candelabra back on its shelf sat down in his chair. "I'm a bit clumsy some times."
"A bit?" Jack agreed, still seething at the unintended assault on his person. He reached with his good arm to rub the back of his now aching head.
"That's why I'm here, at sea, I'm afraid," Dr. Calvin admitted.
"What ya'mean?" Jack was caught off guard.
"Well, you see, I was a successful physician, practicing my arts, when I had a little accident one day that caused a permanent damage to someone in the Royal family." He looked very remorseful. "I lost my customers, my reputation, and my only resort was to join the Navy."
"It doesn't hurt much," Jack lied.
"Well, I do apologize."
Dr. Calvin still held the fluttery thing he'd attempted to wipe Jack with, and Jack now saw it was a lace-edged handkerchief.
"You have a lot of little accidents?" Jack asked him.
The man nodded.
"I have a theory about such things." Resettling himself against the pillows. "You can't let one thing get you off, or it turns into a series of things, savvy? You lose your own self-respect and you practically cause things to happen. I knew a fellow like that once upon a time."
"Well, Mr. Wells, you're certainly not cursed with clumsiness, like me," Dr. Calvin looked him right in the eye.
"No, it really was a young fellow I knew. He ended up washed overboard. Bad luck."
"Or the curse of having two-left feet," Dr. Calvin added.
Both men sat in silence for a moment.
"Dr. Calvin?"
"Yes."
"Tell me. Is Lady Catherine. I mean, has she a beau, a suitor?" Jack asked carefully.
"Not that I'm aware of." Dr. Calvin's gaze met Jack's. "Are you volunteering for the part?"
"She is quite lovely, isn't she? Far too above me in station, I'm sure, but maybe she'd fancy a little.sport." Jack knew he shouldn't be talking to this man about such things, but Dr. Calvin had just confided in him and Jack felt a need to show his own feelings to the man. He couldn't talk about his biggest secret, so a little one would have to do.
"She is very kind," Dr. Calvin said slowly. "I don't think she's the kind to get into sport, as you put it. I think she's the kind who falls in love for good." His gaze roamed over Jack, as if taking his measure. "You're a hansom man, Mr. Wells. Do you go around breaking ladies' hearts?"
Jack put his hand to his chest, his eyes going wide in innocence. "Me?"
"Don't try that on me," Dr. Calvin chuckled. "I'm well aware there's more to you than meets the eye."
"I'll have you know," Jack said seriously, "Most women end up slapping me for no good reason. It's my heart that gets broken." He thought for a moment. "It's probably because I can't stay in one place. I'm prone to falling into adventures, you see."
Dr. Calvin sighed. "My life has not been an adventure. The work of a ship's surgeon is not pretty. Speaking of such, I'll just empty this out," he reached for the chamber pot, "and bring you something fortifying."
Jack watched the man as he stood, again filling the entire small cabin with his height and breadth, then left. Idly Jack hoped Dr. Calvin washed his hands between one thing and another.
To Be Continued.