A.N. – Many thanks to those of you who took the time to review. I really appreciate your kind comments and hope that you enjoy the rest of the story. It is taking a little (OK, a lot!) longer than I anticipated to get these chapters out, and for that I apologize. I have had just about everything that could delay me happen in the last few months. Things have settled down a bit personally, but now my computer it on the fritz. It's always something. The fact that I can't edit this story in the same way anymore pisses me off too. Sorry that it looks strange now, but the program took out my paragraph indentations after the download and it won't let me put them back in. I hate that. Oh well. Hopefully you can deal with it if I have to deal with it.
Oh. I also changed my pen name. People were getting suspicious. LOL
RenegadeWriter (FKA Surroundedbyincompetence)
CHAPTER TWO
"My, my. Now this be a sorry sight, eh, Cotton?"
Mr. Cotton's parrot was rendered speechless.
Anamaria used her booted foot to shove Jack's arm out of the path. He let out a brief grunt as the limb came in contact with his face which was plastered to the grimy floorboards, but it only momentarily interrupted his snoring. Rolling her eyes in disgust, she crouched down and grabbed her captain by the wrist, then proceeded to use his own limp hand to repeatedly whack him in the face. Jack came to with a moan slightly stifled by the fact that his lips had adhered themselves to the ground.
"Damn blast it! Stop slappin' me!" he grumbled petulantly against the wood as he tried to fend off the attack with the same hand that was already occupied in the task of smacking him. At any other time Anamaria would have laughed at the moronic struggle he was posing with himself, but the state in which she had found him only intensified her anger and strengthened the resolve to speak her mind. This was getting bloody ridiculous!
To her utter astonishment, Jack began to doze off again, slumping into the floor like a wet sack of oats. Crouching down and positioning her mouth about three inches from his ear, she shouted, "Top 'o' th'mornin', Cap'n!" which jolted him fully awake, not to mention made him fully aware of his throbbing head. "I see that ye 'ad a most enjoyable night," she sneered, "but y'might want to be getting up off the floor before they decide to throw ye out with the rest of the sweepings!" Looming over him now with arms crossed against her chest, she glared down at her sot of a captain, brown eyes flashing with fury.
Shaking his head in an effort to quell the ringing in his abused ear, Jack rose up a little to see what on earth she was talking about. He rested his head on the ground again after a quick assessment of the situation. He was definitely on the floor; most likely of the dim tavern he vaguely remembered entering the previous afternoon. One of his legs was twined through the spindles of an overturned stool, and two empty bottles lay on their side near his head. He grinned with fondness at the discarded vessels, but the grin turned to a grimace as every movement of his aching body reminded him of the tumble that left him in his current state of prostration.
"Anamaria, my luv, how are you this fine morning?" he said brightly, forcing a cheerful smile and giving a nod of greeting to Cotton. He struggled to sit up and sort out his tangled limbs and clothing. "And where be Gibbs? I could have sworn he was with me…" his inquiry trailed off as he righted himself and followed Anamaria's scathing look toward the table. Gibbs was laying spread eagle across it's top, and at some point a rather large apple had been placed in his gaping mouth leaving him with the appearance of a pig ready for the spit.
" 'Tis fitting, considering that he usually smells the part", Anamaria quipped, bringing a twist of wry amusement to her lips even as her eyes continued to throw daggers.
Jack was equally amused, and after a moment of surprise he leaned his forehead into the edge of the table and roared with laughter. Composing himself and rubbing the tears from his gritty eyes, Jack located his hat and plopped it onto his head slightly askew, then held out a hand to Anamaria.
"Give me a hand up, will you, darling?" he purred.
"I am not your 'darling', or your 'luv, or anything except your first mate!" she intoned icily as she yanked him to his feet, literally tossing his hand away as soon as he was upright. "An' right now," she sneered, "Ye be late to your post, so I had Willits fill in for you." Jack gave her as innocent a look as he could conjure up but saw that her anger would not be assuaged, so he just shrugged his shoulders and plucked the apple from Gibbs' mouth. Wiping it off on his filthy jacket, he took a large bite as Anamaria scrunched up her nose, turned on her heel, and marched across the room, grumbling all of the way about 'irresponsible sons-of-bitches' and 'bloody pirates'. Jack just smiled winningly at her retreating backside, enjoying the view until she found her way to the door and slammed it behind her.
"Satan's whiskers, what a girl!" squawked Mr. Cotton's parrot, flapping his wings and ruffling his feathers in admiration. Jack just looked at him, and then at Cotton, who raised his eyebrows as if to say that he didn't know what had gotten into the bird.
"Go on after her, Cotton. We'll be along just as soon as I can get ol' Gibbs here sobered up."
When Cotton turned to leave, his parrot started to chortle and tick. The chattering bird winked at Jack, then burst into peals of staccato laughter as they made their way to the exit.
Jack turned back to the table to find that Gibbs had already managed to haul himself up. He had been awakened by the ruckus and was now seated on one of the stools, head in hands, looking decidedly pale and nauseous. With a groan, he looked up at Jack between his fingers.
"What be the time? I feel as if I just spent the last two days in the brig, drinkin' bilge water t' boot." He started to cough - nearly losing his breath in the effort - then spat into the corner, which brought a sharp rebuke from the man who was making an attempt to tidy the place up.
Narrowing his gaze and swinging back to face the door, Jack gave the question some thought. Cocking his head in contemplation, he turned cheerily back to his friend and drawled, "Well, mate, considering the wrath so eloquently heaped upon me head a few moments ago, I'd say it's at least half past ten bells." Gibbs answered with another groan, but this time it was because he knew that they should have been back aboard the ship at least four hours ago.
"It's eleven bells and fifteen, t'be sure, ye sorry blighters! Now get on with ye, so's I can finish me chores!"
Feeling a bit guilty now, the two pirates shuffled their way to the door and stepped out into the blinding sunshine. Squinting in the direction of the docks about a quarter mile away they spotted the Black Pearl, and could see Anamaria as she boarded. Somewhat invigorated by the fresh salt air which greeted them, they made their way to the ship as quickly as they could, stopping only long enough to buy a small loaf of bread to share.
They knew there was serious trouble ahead when all work came to a standstill as they walked up the gangplank. Jack looked around at the suddenly idle sailors and bellowed, "I'm th' captain of this bloody ship, and I'll stay ashore any length of time I please!" Puffing out his chest and thrusting up his chin at an arrogant angle, he did his best to strut with absolute authority across the deck, scowling like a dark beast at anyone who dared meet his eye. Gibbs, on the other hand, had immediately slunk away to attend to his duties, not wanting to stick around for the fireworks that were sure to develop.
Jack made it about as far as the quarterdeck before he suddenly found his path blocked by a spitting she-cat. He stopped short and threw his head back when a long finger was thrust menacingly into his face. Taking a backward step to avoid being poked in the nose, he retreated as Anamaria advanced upon him in a fury.
"Jack, you bastard! How many time will I 'ave t'go out searchin' for ye, only to find…"
"That's Captain Ja…" He interrupted, but she cut him off.
"I'll be damn'd if I'll call you captain after what I seen this mornin'!"
He tried to give her a placating smile. "Anamaria, darling, I…"
Slamming her eyes closed, she clapped her hands over her ears and screeched like a banshee. Jack winced, hoping that she wasn't going to hit him like she usually did when she was angry. That hurt.
Thankfully, she only stomped her foot in frustration. "Don't! Don't even think 'bout calling me darling, or sweetheart, or luv or any of that nonsense! I won't hear it! I'm going to me bunk, and I'm not comin' out 'til tomorrow! You can stand the first night watch, and the mid will be in your charge as well!"
Ripping out another frustrated growl, she turned her back to him and threw her hands in the air, exasperated beyond the breaking point. Jack made an effort to look unscathed by her words, but the slight droop of his mouth gave him away. He once again watched her retreat, but this time he didn't ogle her backside. When she was out of sight, his eyes found the deck and stayed there as he became lost in somber thought.
A consoling hand on his shoulder finally brought him back to the present. He turned a fixed and unreadable face to see Gibbs standing just behind him looking sympathetic but determined. Jack knew what was coming. He had heard the whispers and felt the tension for some weeks now, and was actually surprised that it had taken this long for it to come to a head. He sighed wearily and gave his friend a tight smile.
"Jack, I…" Gibbs suddenly found himself speaking to the palms of Jack's hands waving in his face. When the hands dropped, the smile had disappeared.
"No. No lectures, Gibbs. I knew…hell, we ALL knew that this was going to be hard to square with, aye? I didn't figure it to be bloody impossible!" He spat on the deck, still not able to believe that his crew could be so ungrateful.
Jack's pained look was reflected back at him by Gibbs' own pinched features. With another deep sigh bred of quiet desperation, they both turned to walk to Jack's quarters.
"We be pirates, Jack." Gibbs replied earnestly. "It ain't right t' be sittin' idle at port. No pillagin'? No sackin'? No carousin' and devilment? The crew, they be thinkin' that ye's gone soft. They ain't got much use fer a cap'n who's gone soft. It's great, havin' all of the gold that we could possibly ever want or need…but we be pirates."
Spinning around, Jack drew himself up as tall as he could, and glared down his nose at his well-intentioned friend. Teeth clenched in fury, he curled his lips back and hissed. Gibbs retreated a wary step, suddenly thinking that maybe he had gone too far. But the deep wrinkle in Jack's forehead gave his apprehension away.
"Don't you think I know that?" He grated. His kohl eyes narrowed to black slits as he closed the space Gibbs had created and canted his head, gesturing wildly to make his point. "It is not a permanent situation, and I thought that they would enjoy a little rest and relaxation. I made a decision as captain with the best interest of me crew in mind. If they had a problem with it, mate, they should have spoken up a bit sooner! Savvy?"
"But they know that you feel beholden to William and are bothered that you might …"
Gibbs stared after him, the words dying on his lips as Jack turned on his heel, hastily finished the journey to his cabin, and slammed the door shut behind him.
Cursing under his breath, Jack ripped his coat off and threw it in the general direction of a chair. His hat followed. Neither one made it but he was beyond caring. He did take the time to carefully remove his effects and hang them nearby, then sat down on the edge of his bed with shoulders slumped forward and misery written in his posture. Feet still on the floor, he fell back so he could stare at the ceiling, hoping to find some answers in the knots and whorls of the wood above him. His brows knitted as he gestured at the planks overhead in inquiry.
"This is where having friends has gotten me. What good has come of it then?"
With no response forthcoming from the rafters, Jack grabbed a pillow and rolled to his stomach, tucking the feathered mound under his chest so he could rest his chin on his forearms. Dark braids came tumbling over his shoulders with the trinkets and beads woven into them making a pleasant tinkling sound as he lost himself in a study of the bed coverlet. It was a rich brocade the color of chocolate, decorated with scrolls and feathery designs in a slightly lighter shade of brown. Jack traced the patterns with one long, elegant finger; following its progress with golden eyes as he let his thoughts drift. Needless to say, he did not find any answers in the intricate details of the bedspread either. The rest of the bed dressings were made of muslin that was left in its natural cream-color state which complimented the cocoa shades nicely. All of it was well worn from many years at sea, but those years had also brought a softness that was most inviting.
Finding the lure of cool, cottony sheets too much to resist, Jack pushed himself up and rolled to his feet. He kicked off his boots, and not bothering to strip down any further he turned back the covers and wearily slid into the bunk. He knew that he would not be disturbed for there was really nothing to do until first watch. As soon as he found a comfortable position, Jack did his best to sleep. But sleep would not come.
With eyes closed, he tried to let his mind go blank so that he could lose himself in pleasant dreams, but all he was rewarded with were malignant doubts about the future. He tried to block the howling of his conscience by hiding his head under the pillow, but nothing would quiet the noise. His own scruples screamed at him that he had broken the code in some indirect way, but he couldn't say exactly how.
The "why?" was easy enough to understand, or so he thought. They were all rich beyond their wildest dreams and they no longer had to fight for everything they wanted. In fact, they could pretty much do as they pleased. Was it not enough? Apparently not. He knew that his crew was frustrated and bored, but he didn't know how to satisfy them and keep his promise to Will Turner at the same time. They were outlaws, and Jack thought that they would enjoy the luxury of holing up for a short time in a place where they would feel welcome. Obviously he had been wrong, but was he really going soft? He snorted with disgust at the absurdity of the idea. He was simply…misunderstood. That's all.
Jack gave up trying to sleep, sighing in futility as he withdrew his head from its hiding place and resorted once again to gazing blearily at the wood above him. Lacing his fingers together and placing them across his stomach, he listened to the scuffling sounds of his crew going about their various duties. He missed the chanties they used to sing as they labored. Sighing for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he let the rhythmic 'thump-swish' of a mate swabbing the deck lull him into a light doze.
Tossing and turning on the bed, he was bereft and uneasy even in slumber but as the afternoon wore on he stilled, and at last fell into a deep sleep. He suddenly felt detached and strangely hollow, like he was watching his own actions from afar. Not exactly sure whether he was awake or asleep, he saw himself - felt himself - walking the deck of the Pearl through a thick fog. Being so close to shore, this didn't seem odd to him as he made his way toward the bow, but it was strange that no one else seemed to be at hand. Pressing silence met his ears when he stopped to listen; he couldn't even hear the water slapping against the sides of the ship. A short sound of curiosity escaped his throat as he continued forward, waving his hands through the dusky cloud that seemed to have completely enveloped him.
It was the flutter of a skirt that caught his attention first. "Well now. That's interesting", he quipped, under his breath. He could barely make out the silhouette of a young woman standing at the rail about twelve feet in front of him. Her face was turned toward the sea, and her long dark hair was loose and whipping about like a willow caught in a high gale. Jack stopped dead, startled at the presence of a female other than Anamaria…and an obviously young female at that.
"Good evening, lass", he offered tentatively, extending his left hand and flicking his wrist in inquiry, which caused the mist around it to break apart like a smoky veil.
"Missy…?"
When she did not immediately respond he took a soft step forward, craning his neck to the side in an effort to get a glimpse of her face. With his hand still reaching out in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture, he took another cautious step, fearing all the while that she was nothing more than an evanescent sylph sent by the Almighty to torment him.
His breath caught and he once again stood still, letting his arm return to his side as the girl slowly began to turn her head in his direction. He heard her deep, melancholy sigh, and it seemed to echo every one of his own. He could barely make out her profile, and he once again wondered if she was real for she didn't acknowledge his gentle greeting or his presence in any way.
He could see that she was lovely, and indeed very young. 'No more that twenty years', he thought to himself. 'And I don't recognize her. So, if she isn't a dream, where the devil did she come from?'
From his vantage point he could make out long lashes and a pouting lower lip, but not much else. Being a man, he had to admit that he was a bit disappointed that her back was still turned to him, for he would have loved to know what lay on the other side. The thought amused him, and his full lips twisted into a smirk. Leave it to him to be curious about the physical charms of a woman who may very well be a hallucination.
As if to confirm his ponderings, her appearance suddenly changed. He inhaled sharply as the outline of her form began to disintegrate, and the shards of her image seemed to catch and reflect small bursts of moonlight as they tumbled outward.
"No! Wait!" Jack shouted, advancing in the direction of the fading vision. In his haste, he slipped and landed flat on his back, yelping in pain as his tailbone bit into the planks. He forced his eyes to remain open and he watched in helpless despair as the flashes of light once again coalesced before him, taking on the vague form of a girl before shattering apart and speeding in a thousand directions away from him like so many shooting stars.
The words were dying on his lips, echoing through his cabin in a hollow plea as he reached into the emptiness to grab hold of the shimmering image. His eyes flew open, and he wasn't sure for a moment where he was since he wasn't sure that he had been asleep in the first place. After a few moments, he let his hand fall back to the bed in utter dejection. It had been all too real, and he groaned in frustration when he realized that the lovely woman had only been a dream. Oddly enough he still felt dazzled, and had to blink more than once to clear his sight. His back hurt too, causing the line between reality and fancy to blur once again. Then he remembered his tumble from a stool during the previous night - surely the reason for his sore hindquarters now - and his disappointment was complete.
Feeling the walls closing in around him, Jack made his way to a cabinet that stood opposite his bed. He never locked it although it contained his most precious possession: rum. There was rum by the bottle and rum by the case. Smooth and spicy, it was the best to be found in the Caribbean - maybe even the world. He could afford the best, and since the entire crew could afford it as well he had no fears that any of them might think of relieving him of a flask or two unbidden. He twisted the cork from a selected bottle and tossed it aside, having no intention of returning it to its narrow home.
Slouching into the closest chair, he propped his bare feet up on the table, brought the bottle to his lips, and tilted back, using the motion to hasten the liquid to his mouth. After taking a few thirsty pulls, he lowered the drink to his lap and closed his eyes, willing the warmth of the liquid to flow through him. The sultry climate kept his room oppressively hot and stifling, so Jack's skin glistened with a sheen of sweat. On the inside, however, he felt a perpetual chill. It had settled in after the visit to Port Royal, and no amount of alcohol or radiant sunshine had been able to dispel it.
The front legs of his chair came down with a loud thump as he took another long drink. Leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table, he positioned the half-empty bottle in front of him and picked thoughtfully at the corner of the label. Entranced by the activity, his mind attempted to sort through the events of the last few months and tried to put together a sensible picture of what to do with the time that lay ahead. Unfortunately, what should have been a bright future was turning into a nightmare.
And it began with a couple in love.
When Liz and Will had made plans for their wedding, they insisted that Jack and the entire crew of the Black Pearl be in attendance at the reception. Of course, Commodore Norrington would be bound by the law to arrest them all, so it looked as if the happy couple's wishes would have to go ungranted. But always eager to manipulate - and having a calculated proclivity for requesting the most unusual wedding gifts - Elizabeth didn't hesitate to speak to her father, Governor Swann, about the matter.
Overjoyed to see his daughter so happy and in love, he was no match for her pleading expression and tearful insistence that her request was truly the desire of her heart. The proposal seemed simple enough, and Elizabeth presented it with such enthusiasm that the Governor was completely blindsided. Basically, she wanted her father to grant Jack and his crew clemency for one week, and one week only. The Commodore would not be allowed to touch them, and they would be able to leave unmolested. Her father agreed to the brief truce, and even let Elizabeth draft the necessary document herself. It was signed, and presented to Norrington before the ink even had a chance to dry.
The Commodore read it in disbelief, but showed no obvious signs of his mounting rage other than an ashen countenance and a steely gaze. Not only did the contract make concessions for the attendance of the pirates, but it also granted Jack and his crew absolute sovereignty over the Isla de Muerta along with all of the treasures it held. She had obviously added the bit about the island without the Governor's knowledge and, trusting his daughter completely, he never bothered to read it before signing it.
The elusive island had been the Pearl's first destination upon retrieving her captain, and with Barbossa dead Jack and his crew were once again the keepers of her secret. Norrington knew that some of his officers had been given the bearings and all of the crew from the Dauntless had been to the very mouth of the treasure cave, so there was always the fear that one of them would turn pirate and try to go after the riches. That was the last thing he needed, but giving sole rights of ownership and defense to… Jack?
James was still very fond of Elizabeth, but he had an overwhelming urge to strangle her. Did she realize what she was asking? 'Of course she does,' he thought sarcastically. Why else would she have looked so smug? The whole situation left an acrid taste in the Commodore's mouth. He wracked his brain attempting to find some loophole, but knew that this was a battle he was certain to lose.
Unable to override the Governor, Norrington tried to act as gracious as possible. Instead of screaming bloody murder, he offered to deliver the papers to Jack personally along with an invitation to the nuptials. However brief, the 'treaty' was a major blow to the Commodore's pride, so he wanted to make it clear that he was a willing party and did not have his hand forced in this injustice. Even though that was, in fact, the case, Sparrow didn't need to be aware of it. Elizabeth recognized the motivation behind his wanting to have a face to face with his nemesis; she was sure that James intended to stare Jack down, projecting any level of intimidation he could manage.
As usual, Will had not been consulted before Elizabeth put her plan into action, but when he was informed of the matter he insisted that Norrington allow him to tag along. There was a good chance that Jack would be on the defensive as soon as he saw the HMS Dauntless, so there was no telling what would happen. The Commodore could find himself in a very precarious position and no one was willing to take that kind of chance, especially with the defense of Port Royal limited by the loss of the Interceptor. Until she could be replaced they were at a disadvantage, and pirates in general could be most unpredictable, to say nothing of Jack. Will thought that they should start their search for Jack in Tortuga, and seeing as James had never been there before it made good sense for Will to act as an escort and liaison. One could never be too careful.
So the journey was made and sure enough, the Black Pearl was anchored in Tortuga's harbor, and the crew of the Dauntless never hoisted her colors so as not to draw undue attention. As they approached, the Commodore couldn't help but imagine that the ominous ship held the attraction of a sirens song, for even he lusted after her, with her billowing sails and graceful lines to seduce the most committed of men. He stood transfixed, lost in imagination until his thoughts conjured a picture of himself dressed in a buccaneers clothing, standing at the helm in high-heeled boots with a wide hat cocked jauntily on his head. It was the rather outrageous ostrich plume that bobbed from the imaginary hat that finally jolted him from his fantasy. He laughed aloud at the incongruous thoughts.
"Captain James Norrington…Pirate Captain James Norrington…" he said softly, rolling the words off of his tongue as if to taste them. "Cap'n James…Cap'n Norring…"
He would have carried on if not for Will interrupting him with a hand on the shoulder. Wildly embarrassed, he hoped that his foolishness had not been overheard. Judging from the conspiratorial smile that he received he couldn't be sure, until Will leaned in to whisper, "Don't fret, Cap'n. I've had similar thoughts, only I was…" he lifted his hands to dramatically frame the words in the sky, "…Cap'n Turner, Terror of the High Seas!" James snorted and then smiled, his discomfiture eased by Will's admission.
"She is a beautiful and enviable ship, Commodore. Don't be ashamed of desiring her, any more than you would be ashamed of desiring a beautiful woman. Just stay mindful that Jack is a jealous lover."
Both men looked toward the Pearl as they anchored about one hundred yards off of her starboard side. Judging from the activity on her decks, the presence of the HMS Dauntless was already noted, and not being taken lightly. As James peered through his glass to determine the next move, he saw Captain Sparrow emerge from somewhere below and sashay across the deck to where Anamaria stood pointing toward their unwelcome visitor. He was amused as Jack took his own glass and searched them out, commencing a cycloptic stare-down that lasted several minutes. James was the first to break, tired from the journey and simply wanting to get this whole business over with so they could go home. He ordered a longboat to be readied, and set out with Will to meet his enemy.
Even though he was genuinely pleased to see Will and hear about the impending marriage, Jack was not particularly receptive to Norrington or the plan. It took three days for him to be convinced that it was not a trap, and he was still wary when he signed the papers, for he harbored a vague but nagging twinge of regret and unease.
Four days after her arrival, Jack watched from a window as the Dauntless left Tortuga in her wake. Pressing his forehead against the cool glass, he turned the idea of this "invitation" over and over in his head and considered the promise he had made to Will when they had spoken privately. Will had pleaded for Jack and the crew to "lay low" for a while after the wedding since Norrington was not as complacent as he seemed to be about the situation. Will assured him that the Commodore would waste no time in pursuing the Pearl as soon as he was able, so Jack grudgingly agreed to take a short break. The question was how to tell the crew about it, for he had not consulted them.
He had no clue as to what their reaction was going to be, but he couldn't possibly have prepared himself for the profound silence that greeted his announcement. He expected cheers and his smile died as, one by one, the deflated men (and woman) answered with a listless 'Aye, Cap'n', before drifting off to return half-heartedly to their tasks. Even with the anticipation of the wedding and a future of luxurious abundance, it was still a disaster. He had assured them all that they would be back to their old scalawag selves very soon.
But how soon?
That was the question that plagued Jack Sparrow, haunting him in the wee hours of the night and driving him to the taverns every day in an attempt to drown his sorrows. They had kept their end of the bargain, returning to Tortuga after the wedding and only leaving once to make a trip to Isla de Muerta for more gold, having given the rest of their supply to William and Elizabeth as a gift. The crew was becoming more restless as each day passed, and the sullen silence that fell when their captain was present sent a chill through his bones. He heard them whisper amongst themselves that they had become a laughingstock, and that the venerable Captain Sparrow was now nothing more than a neutered pup destined to fade into obscurity.
Jack pulled himself back from his depressing thoughts to glance at a map left half folded at the other end of the table. He pushed the almost empty bottle of rum aside and brushed the flakes of torn label onto the floor as he reached over, took hold of the sketch, and opened it carefully on the table before him, looking it over with satisfaction. He had made it himself and was most pleased with the results. It was not complete, as he had only drawn in the islands at this point, but he considered his knowledge of the area to be superior to just about everyone else's. It included every island in the Caribbean that he knew of except for the Isla de Muerta.
Letting his finger come to rest on one island in particular he tapped it lightly once, then traced it's outline as his mouth curved into a rare, genuine smile. "Ah, Papa. I wonder what ye would have to say about all of this?" His voice was touched with fondness. How long had it been since he had seen the man that raised him? Three years? Four? He could not remember, but he knew it had been far too long since his last visit. He continued to tap lightly, this time on his lips as they once again stretched into a grin. A sparkle touched his eyes as a possible solution began to take shape. Suddenly invigorated, he grabbed the momentarily forgotten bottle of rum and finished it off with a flourish, then let out a 'whoop!' as he sent the now empty vessel crashing into a wall. Without even bothering to put his boots back on, he strode with renewed energy across the cabin and out the door.
00000000
Brenna sat on her bed, doing her best to brush the many tangles from her hair. She pulled a few of the long strands forward so she could better see what she was doing, and worked at a particularly stubborn knot.
"Good heavens! There is a bur stuck in there…at least, I hope it's a bur." She picked at it until she found the hard center. "Aye, just a bur", she confirmed, and attacked the next section with a vengeance. "How and why did I ever let my hair become such a mess?"
"Because you are lazy and an unrepentant slob, that's both how and why. Do you need some assistance?"
Brenna turned around to greet her sister, but didn't acknowledge the matter-of-fact assessment of her situation. She did, however, accept the offer of help. "Yes Olivia, my dear, perfect sister," she cooed, batting her eyes. " I could most certainly use your assistance. Would you mind fetching the scissors from mother's sewing basket? The ends of my hair are ravaged."
Olivia stuck out her tongue and left the room in a huff, but returned after a few minutes with the scissors and proceeded to separate Brenna's crisp hair into long sections. The parched ends stuck out in crazy disarray and Olivia snipped them off carefully, doing her best to only remove what was damaged. When that task was complete, Brenna went down to the washroom and took a leisurely bath with rose scented soap. She let her hair dry, and then brushed it out once again into a shimmering, sun-streaked mass that fell to her waist. After braiding it into a single plait she tried to coil it at the nape of her neck, but it had been so long since she had worn her hair up that the efforts were clumsy. Her jaw clenched as she repeated the twisting again and again until she finally managed to make a presentable chignon. Pinning it into place, she then turned her attention to the collection of clothing on her bed. It was pitiful.
Brenna pursed her lips as she surveyed her meager wardrobe with dismay. All but one of the dresses was the kind she wore every day…short cotton frocks that were only acceptable on the island. The one proper dress was not very old, but she wasn't sure that it would still fit. She had received it for her sixteenth birthday, so hopefully it would only need to have the hem let out a bit for though she had grown at least a few inches taller over that past three years, her figure had remained slim.
She shook the garment to fluff out some of the wrinkles and then held it up to her body. It was made of very light blue poplin, so the color was flattering to her pale eyes and dark skin. The style was simple - just a hint of bustle at the back and a plain, lightly boned bodice with a square neckline that was trimmed in white satin cording. A delicate Venetian lace, handmade by her mother, flounced over the wrists under the slightly belled sleeves, and Brenna prayed that it would camouflage her rough hands and chipped nails. It didn't matter really because it was the only thing she had to wear, so it would have to do. The undergarments were another matter entirely. She had none, aside from a single petticoat and one pair of bloomers that were very worn and thin.
"I guess it's a good thing that I have the figure of a boy", she declared, "For I have no corset."
"And you have no stockings, no shoes, and no wrap!" Judith scolded as she swept into the room, carrying an armload of jumbled fabric.
She tossed the bundle onto the bed and began to sort through it. There were mostly old shifts and chemises that would have normally been used as rags, but now they were needed for there was no way that she was going to let her daughter go anywhere without some more modest undergarments. Judith clucked her tongue, chiding herself for letting her daughter run the island all of these years like a wild thing. There was no way that she was going to be welcomed in polite society looking like a street urchin.
"And you do not have the figure of a boy! Your hips are slim, child, but I think that you have filled out quite nicely. The bodice of your dress is boned so it should not be an immediate problem, but you will have need of a corset when you go to the dressmaker. Make sure that you purchase at least two."
Judith held the worn items up to her daughter to judge the size. They would all have to be made smaller, but they would do until Brenna had a chance to purchase new things.
"Is it going to take very long to fix these, mum?"
"Maybe a few hours at the most, if both you and Olivia help with the basting. Corrina is in the process of packing the rest of your things. Lord knows what we will do about shoes!" As if in cue, Corrina, the young housemaid, scurried into the room and Brenna gave her a brief smile as the girl placed the toiletries she carried into the trunk.
Brenna hated to sew, but this was too important to even think about complaining. After selecting the most promising items, they quickly ripped out the seams and began to re-assemble the pieces. Judith pinned them together where they would be sewn to fit Brenna's slim figure, then hurried out to the sewing room with Olivia on her heels. Promising to join them in a few minutes, Brenna breathed a sigh as she walked to the window to try to catch a soothing breeze and a few moments to think. Several minutes went by as she stared out past the garden toward the ocean. She could just make out the sound of the surf breaking over the bluff that rose high above the surface of the water, and its rhythmic hiss calmed her jangled nerves.
Everything had happened so quickly.
When the letter arrived from Kathy saying that she would be paying a visit to Port Royal, Brenna was overjoyed! Captain Mayhew had been given the commission of building a ship to replace the HMS Interceptor, and now that it was complete he was delivering it to Port Royal personally. He wanted to be assured that Commodore Norrington would find her to be acceptable for his needs. Kathy had begged her father for permission to accompany him so that she could visit with her dearest friend, and she had quickly sent word to Brenna of their plans. The only other details were an approximate arrival date and the fact that they would be staying at Governor Swann's. Kathy had made sure that Brenna would be welcome there too, so that they could all be near to each other. Kathy said that the Governor's daughter had married recently and was no longer living at the mansion, so there was plenty of room for guests. Brenna had never been to Port Royal, but had heard that the home was quite lovely, so she was looking forward to a little luxury again. She didn't resent her current lack of the finer things, but she was also not opposed to taking advantage of the chance to indulge a bit.
But the joy she felt at her friend's visit was immediately overshadowed by urgency. The correspondence had taken so long to find its way to the island that Brenna had blessed little time to prepare herself for the journey. According to the letter, Kathy would be arriving in just two days! There was really nothing for Brenna to do but pack and sail to Port Royal as soon as possible, but considering the state of her wardrobe a few months notice would have been advantageous. Fortunately, Ollie and Judith had enough money set aside to allow her to purchase clothing, so it was to be the first thing on her agenda once she reached Jamaica. The makeshift garments now in the skilled hands of her mother would have to suffice for a few days until her new things were ready.
At the moment though, clothing was the last thing on Brenna's mind. She focused on trying to etch the lovely scene from her window into her mind. Turning back to look around her room, she willed herself to absorb it's warmth and essence, wanting to carry it in her heart always. She fought back sudden tears as she caught a glimpse of her mother rushing by, haste crackling in every rustle of her starched skirts. Judith popped her head into the room to see what was talking her daughter so long.
"Brenna? Brenna! Do hurry dear. We have no time to waste! The ship leaves port in two hours and we have to finish these seams and get you dressed!"
"Yes, mum." Brenna replied distantly.
"Well come along then. Lets make sure that what we have pieced together is adequate. We cannot keep the captain waiting."
Shaking off her reverie, she followed her mother into the sewing room. They quickly checked the measurements of the undergarments, and finding that they were a perfect fit the three worked hastily for about two hours to sew the final seams. When everything was finished, Judith and Olivia helped Brenna into her lengthened dress, and then handed the rest of the pieces to Corrina. Judith procured a pair of her own shoes, even though they were a bit too big. They stuffed a wad of extra fabric into the toes so they would be less clumsy, and Brenna took a few minutes stumbling back and forth to get a feel for them. Between the awkward shoes and the heavy gown throwing off her sense of balance, she felt like a baby just learning to walk. When they were confident that she would not fall flat on her face, Judith called for the driver to bring the trunk out to the carriage. The family followed him down, and after hugging her parents and sister good-bye Brenna hopped into the seat beside the driver and settled in for the ride.
She looked back as the carriage rolled away. The threesome was standing together watching her departure and she waved to them, once again trying to burn the vision into her brain. There was a disquieting sense of melancholy and loss that hung in the air, and Brenna once again felt the overwhelming need to absorb as much of her surroundings as possible. She slowly drank it all in as they made their way toward town.
She had not confided in anyone that she wanted to return to England with Kathy, and she knew that she would only have a few weeks time to conspire with her friend and negotiate her freedom. She actually didn't think it would be difficult to convince her parents that it would be for the best. She was positive that the Mayhews would be more than willing to let her stay with them, and her mother had already been saying for at least the past year that Brenna needed to be where there were eligible young men to court her. Judith feared that her eldest daughter was destined to be an old maid, considering her tomboy ways and apparent disinterest in the future. Little did she know that Brenna was thinking of her future almost every waking moment, and had simply not wanted her dear parents to know that she was growing more anxious each day of being stranded on the island forever. She was not entirely sure that she had the nerve to go through with her plan, so she had remained silent. She hoped that Kathy would help her make a final decision about what course to take.
The carriage gave a sharp jolt as one wheel bit into a clump of pampas grass that had found its way onto the sandy trail. The jarring broke through Brenna's thoughts and she looked up. The path they followed had taken them from the high hill where she lived and brought them down to the same level as the sea, and as they approached the village, she watched the children running along the beach in search of clams. They called to one another in shrill, excited whistles when they found a particularly promising spot, and worked together to dig up as many of the mollusks as possible before the impending return of high tide. The water and its gifts fascinated her, and she inhaled deeply as she felt the oceans cooling breath on her face. It swept the cobwebs from her mind and caused her heart to throb in a sweet ache that constricted her throat for a moment with a burst of ardent emotion and excitement.
'The burgeoning tide is my seducer, calling me out and beckoning me to follow it to my destiny!'
Brenna laughed out loud at her melodramatic thought, but the mirth faded on her lips as she gave the idea serious consideration. "The sea, my lover?" she whispered, her fingers touching her lips as if to feel the truth as it was spoken. She had never thought of it that way, but in refection it made sense. She had always gone to the water with her problems and fears. It had comforted her on countless occasions and given her peace when she was troubled. It's strength had brought serenity and solace, and even when she feared it's wrath she loved it. She wanted it to consume her even as it inspired her and set her free, and she knew that her final wish would be to die in it's arms. After setting sail she would be at the mercy of her beloved. Her spirit soared.
Eyes wide with wonder, she gazed at the aquamarine expanse and smiled. Mesmerized by it's beauty, she watched as a white-capped swell mounted up and raced toward the shore. Sun shone through the turquoise wave turning it a radiant emerald - a sparkling and striated viridescent peak webbed with gossamer foam. Another crest formed along side the first…than another…and another. They met the sand in succession, and Brenna imagined that they were groping like fingers that wanted to touch and caress her as they surged forward. At the shore she usually sat just out of reach, but occasionally the water would leap up and swirl around her toes, tickling and courting her before sighing away in defeat, breathing a raspy "…someday…" to her lonely heart.
Tearing her eyes away from the horizon, she looked forward to mark their progress. She caught a sidelong glace from the driver, and wondered if he had heard her strange inquiry. She was sure that she had not said anything loudly enough to be overheard, but he was looking at her oddly. Ignoring his scrutiny, she almost giggled at the thought of being anyone's lover. The water she understood. Men? That was another matter entirely.
Brenna's thoughts turned back to her journey as the carriage finally reached the cobbled street that meandered it's way down to the dock. She could see the HMS Brighton where it was anchored about fifty yards off shore waiting to take her to Port Royal. Inhaling deeply to clear her head, she sat up straighter and watched with keen interest as the few sailors on board the ship noted the carriages approach and sprang into action. The ship had been moved out away from land because the tide was too low to have her safely come in closer. Brenna would have to be taken out in a longboat, and there were two already tied to the dock, bobbing in the inlets gentle wake.
Captain Knockles was waiting for them at the end of the road, and he reached for Brenna's hand as soon as they were completely stopped. The captain had always been a good friend to her - a second father, of sorts - and had taught her everything she knew about the ocean and it's mysteries. They exchanged wide smiles as he helped her alight, and his flirtatious wink made her giggle. Calling another sailor to assist the driver with the trunk, Knockles lead Brenna by the hand he still held and walked with her to the first small vessel.
"You are looking quite lovely, my dear. How, pray tell, did your mother manage to wrestle you into a proper dress?"
The twinkle in his eye made her giggle once again, for she knew that he was teasing and had never disapproved of her usual clothing. He had in fact often implored her to try wearing trousers, for he had wanted to teach her all about the ship and it's handling, not just about the sea she sailed upon. Any attempt to teach her such things while she was wearing a simple shift would have been unwise, and probably a bit scandalous.
"Well, kind sir, it was not easy I assure you!" she replied haughtily as he helped her down into the longboat. "She had to threaten me with violence before I would comply, and I made sure that she knew of my displeasure!"
She glowered in feigned annoyance, and set her mouth in a defiant line. Captain Knockles was laughing so hard that she feared that he would not be able to manage his own descent into the boat. She could hold off her own laughter for only a moment before she joined him. Still cackling, the captain leapt down into the boat, then ordered a sailor to cast off the line. He settled in and they began the journey to the ship.
"I missed you yesterday, pet. Did you have much to do to prepare?"
"Just gathering my extensive wardrobe."
They both laughed again, then Brenna glanced back at the other boat. He saw her hesitation, and the subsequent crestfallen look on her face took him by surprise. Hoping that they were out of earshot, she continued.
"I have also spent some time alone, thinking and planning."
The captain gave her a long, thoughtful look. He could see that she was struggling, and he knew her well enough to guess the source of her indecision. Gentleness filled his voice as he spoke the words that she couldn't seem to find.
"You do not intend to return, do you."
Brenna sighed, and closed her eyes. It was a statement, not a question, and her shoulders slumped in dejection.
"Do you think I am making a mistake? I have not told anyone, but I am not surprised that you are able to read me so well. I love my parents and sister. Is it so wrong to want more from my life? To want adventure? Romance?"
Shaking his head, the captain chuckled. Brenna implored him with her gaze, begging for absolution and understanding.
"Brenna, my dear, you are nineteen years old. You are no longer a child, so who would take from you your freedom except you? You have a right to it, and should not be ashamed to desire it so earnestly. What does your heart say?"
"My heart is broken. How can I leave my family? My father needs me. My mother needs me. And how can I leave Olivia here on her own?"
The torment was written on her face, not just in her vehement words. She looked away, her eyes darting back and forth as if watching scenes of her loved one's world falling apart in her absence. Captain Knockles had the urge to laugh again, but wisely held back. Brenna's sincerity rang clear, but the man knew her concerns to be false. How could he convince her that her family would not feel abandoned?
The captain was friendly with both Judith and Ollie, and he knew more about what was happening on the island than just about anyone. He had spoken to Judith on several occasions in the past few months, and he knew she was concerned about Brenna's future on the island. Little did Brenna know that Judith had already been considering sending her daughter back to England, and that Ollie was in complete agreement. As for Olivia, she was much more clever and devious than anyone gave her credit for. She was in love with a native boy, and for months had been stealing away with him at every opportunity. Brenna's feelings of obligation may have been misplaced, but the captain knew that the truth had to be approached lightly so as not to upset her more than necessary.
"Your father and mother did just fine before you came along, Brenna. As for Olivia…well…she would miss you, but she is also a young lady. Thoughts of a husband and family are surely with her, and she will be doing her own seeking in the near future, don't you agree?"
Honestly, Brenna had not considered it. To her, Olivia would always be her baby sister, but her racing heart began to beat more normally as she thought it through. The rhythmic pulling of the oars in the water resonated with the tugging at her soul, nudging her persistently away from all she was comfortable with and all that was safe and predictable.
"You may not get this opportunity again, and you are ready. You can not contend with fate.'
Softening a bit, she turned back to look at him again and saw no hint of insincerity in his weathered face. Bright blue eyes sparkled at her from under his bushy, gray brows and she knew that he spoke the truth. A new resolve surged through her and straightened her spine, so she took her second deep, restoring breath of the day and slapped her hands down on her knees in a gesture of finality.
Coming up along side of the Brighton, the captain stowed the oars and reached up to capture the lines that had been lowered down to secure and hoist the boat. Brenna's face was glowing as he helped her onto the rope ladder and she began her ascent. She paused for a moment and looked down at him, appreciation and love shining in her eyes.
" 'tis settled then?"
Her brilliant smile was all the answer he needed.
00000000
They set sail almost immediately after the second longboat was secured and Brenna's trunk was lashed to the deck. A brisk wind sent the sloop flying across the water and Brenna took her place at the rail, letting the breeze sweep through her loosened hair. She knew that it would be a tangled mess again at the end of the journey, but she didn't care. High, wispy clouds were stroked across an impossibly blue sky, and the sun was hot liquid gold. Gulls and terns made her laugh as they swooped and swirled, gliding on the vents for long seconds then dropping to the sparkling sea in efforts to retrieve a meal. Everything felt right for the first time in as long as she could remember.
But as her thoughts turned again to her family she felt a longing and sadness that burned in her chest. She knew that she would see them again before she left for England, but the implications of her decision weighed heavy nonetheless. Distant, fond memories of her early years on the island, as well as more recent events, turned her expression pensive as she stared out over the vast expanse of cerulean water.
She sighed, suddenly feeling detached from her surroundings, and realized that she heard someone approaching and apparently trying to get her attention.
"Missy…?"
She turned her head to acknowledge the voice.
No one was there.