Title: Of the Sea Rating: PG-13
Chapter Title: 9. Everywhere
Summary: Matthew dreams, and gives Jack his decision.
Timeline: Tuesday, May 17, 1675
Author: Cicatrix (Marin K.)

The four men sitting around the table looked up at her with appraising eyes. Raven was easily the most beautiful serving maid in the establishment, and the most unattainable. She was skilled in the art of dancing just out of the reach of groping men, and knew exactly how to mislead them into believing they actually had a chance. Everything about her was a part of the grand act: the way the wine-coloured chemise fell off one her shoulders, the slight curve of the dark cherry and black stripes on her bodice to make her appear more well-endowed, her tendency to casually hike up the skirt of her dress with one hand when she walked.

"Any news of the Pearl?" she asked conversationally, setting the mugs of ale on the table two at a time and collecting the empty ones.

"Aye. 'Parently, she's tak'n t'lootin' an' pillagin', 'asn't b'n leav'n surv'v'rs," the oldest said, shaking his head.

"Not like Jack Sparra' at all t'do th't."

"I 'eard there was a mutiny."

"Mutiny?" she questioned. Surely not. Bootstrap would never betray his captain, nor allow any such thing. He was mindlessly devoted to his captain, fool though he may be. She had finished the exchange of mugs by now, and stood with the tray balanced jauntily on one hand.

"Aye. 'Memb'r, they went aft'r the treasure o'the Isla de Muerta? ''Long the way they lef' Jack b'hind. Made 'im gov'ner o'some l'il il'nd, or so I 'eard."

"Goes against the code, doesn't it?"

"Aye. One o'the crew obj'ct'd, so the new Cap'n, Barbossa, 'ad 'is crew tie Bootstrap's boostraps t'a cannon and sent 'im t'Davy Jones' locker."

"...Bootstrap?" Raven echoed. She swooned, the tray and glasses falling as she wobbled, clattering to the ground. She tried to steady herself by grabbing hold of the table, but she felt the darkness growing on the edges of her vision. Bootstrap's bootstraps? "That's not possible," she whispered. She could see they were staring at her as she crumpled to the floor.

She groaned as she rolled over, the loud thump as she fell out of bed almost comforting. Miriam dragged herself to her feet. Her head was pounding, her body ached. Vaguely, she sensed that she was crying, and she brushed away the tears. He's dead. It was a dream. He's been dead. Stop dwelling. I can't. She draped herself in her sheets and stumbled downstairs.

The door was open, allowing light and fresh air to stream in. Miriam sat in her chair, a cup of tea in her hands. She sipped it carefully, a slight frown on her lips. It was midmorning, and though she knew that soon she would have to shed her bed-sheet, get dressed, and return to the Pearl, she was stalling. She would have to give Jack an answer, and she didn't want to.

I should tell him I can't stay at all, she thought, Bootstrap told me to stay away from him. Of course, I don't always do what Bootstrap tells me, not that he tells me anything anymore. She closed her eyes. It's Jack's fault, she reminded herself, I shouldn't want to stay on his ship. If he hadn't come up with that fool idea, I'd still have a family.

He saved your life, another voice reminded her, you should be grateful.

"He killed Bootstrap," she said aloud, "it's his fault." She knew it wasn't. Bootstrap had gone all those years ago because he knew Barbossa would mutiny, if he was given the chance. He had gone because he knew Jack needed him. He had gone because he was a good man, and because he had to go. No one had known how badly it would end, with the possible exception of Barbossa. Jack didn't kill Bootstrap, Barbossa did.

In truth, the Black Pearl was her last connection to Bootstrap. She had to stay with that ship, and she knew it. Bootstrap had told her to stay away from Jack, but she had debts to pay, and debts to collect on. Beyond that, the Pearloffered her the chance to understand a part of his life that otherwise she would have no insight into. She was about to stand and return upstairs, when a voice interrupted her.

"Ada?" it said, cautiously. The woman called Ada looked up, and putting her cup down on the small table next to her, she smiled.

"Caroline, it's lovely to see you."

"You've not been by for quite some time."

"Circumstances have prevented it, you know how it is."

"I do."

"Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you."

"Please, sit down." She obliged. Caroline was an older woman, nearing fifty. Her hair was streaked with gray, though once it had been a rich and earthy brown. Her eyes were still dark and glossy, her smile just as wide. Miriam had always admired the woman, but had kept her distance. She served a purpose, and beyond that, it was best not to get too close.

Caroline did not know her real name, though she knew it likely wasn't Ada. She knew every ship Miriam had sailed on, every name she had used. The only information 'Ada' withheld from her was her real name, whatever ship she was currently on, and whatever name she was currently using. She always had the information that was just slightly out of date. Ada gave her a guinea every month to deny her existence, unless threatened, in which case she should direct them to the previous ship she'd been on.

"Last ship was the Cain," Ada said. "Name was Anthony Felton."

The older woman nodded. "New ship then?"

"Yes," came the response, followed by a long pause. "Has anyone been by?"

"An older man, might have been forty or a little older. Said he was looking for Raven Sparks. He didn't threaten me, so I said I'd never known or met any girl by the name of Raven, and he went on his way. He didn't leave a name."

"I see." It had been nine years since Miss Raven Sparks had stopped working at the Faithful Bride and had, for all intensive purposes, disappeared, seven years since last someone had asked Caroline where she was. She wondered who was looking for her after all this time. "If you see him again, ask for his name. I'm curious."

"I will."

Caroline left an hour later, and Miriam applied her bandages and returned to the Black Pearl. She wondered why the Pearlalways docked at the same pier; in a way, she both loved and hated it. It reminded her of Bootstrap, and she never could decide if she wanted to remember or forget. She stood in silence on the spot where she had seen him off, eleven years ago, and stared into the distance where she had watched him disappear over the horizon.

"What're y'lookin' at, mate?" Jack's voice interrupted her from her contemplation.

Startled, Matthew spun to space him. He fumbled for words, shook his head. "Nothing, just--nothing, really." Jack nodded, as if considering this response.

"Nothing must very interesting then. You were staring at it awfully hard."

"Oh, indeed."

"How long y'gonna stay?"

The younger man paused, heaving his shoulders. "As long as you'll have me, Cap'n."

"Good! The answer I was hoping for. Pearl's not made for men who come and go. If y'love a girl, y'don' take 'er and leave 'er, y'stay with her. She needs that kinda respect, mate, needs a crew that's faithful to her. Y'think y'can do it?" Jack was both serious and teasing, light-hearted but meaning every word he said. And he was right.

"Aye, Cap'n," Matthew said forcefully. He would stay; he knew he had to. She was his only chance, and he knew Pearlunderstood that. Others might say she was just a pile of wood, canvas and rope, but the Black Pearl was more than that. Only through her could he find Bootstrap, and through that man's memory, peace; and freedom.

"The Black Pearl: she's more than just wood, more than just sails, keel, hull, deck, helm and rudder. She's the fastest ship in the Caribbean, maybe even the whole world. Once you set foot on her, you can't leave her, ever. Jack, he can't ever lose that ship. It wouldn't just kill him, it would devour him. No man who's loved her can live without her. She's everything you've ever wanted, and then some. Jack told me once, in a rare moment of sobriety, that a ship is freedom. I don't know if it's possible, but Raven, the Pearl, she's more than that. I don't know if you can understand, but one day you will." She remembered his words well. She'd thought of them every day when she'd woken in the mess, or when she'd stood on the deck and stared out to see. I don't need more yet, she thought, but I do need freedom. This is my chance. This is my only chance.

Jack looked curiously at Matthew, who seemed serious and pensive. He wanted to ask if something was wrong, but thought better of it. He shoved his hands into his pockets, stood and stared at the younger man, waiting to be remembered. His patience was rewarded in a short moment.

"Where are we going next?"

"Nowhere," Jack said expansively, "and everywhere. Havanna, Santiago, Barbados, Nassau... all those places are great, y'know. But once you get there, what then? So the Pearl, she goes everywhere, because then there's always someplace else to go. If y'wanna go everywhere, we can go anywhere! You see?" He made wide hand gestures as he spoke, pointing at the horizon, the crystal clear waters and the wide blue sky. His kohl-lined eyes were slightly narrowed, and he stared off into space as if he could capture it with his gaze. He nearly succeeded. Perhaps he looked foolish, his wild dreadlocks falling in front of his face, beads and coins chiming as he moved his head.

Matthew grinned. Yes, this is what I need. This is freedom, this is what Bootstrap meant. And I begin to understand what he saw in this man. No, I can't blame him. Bootstrap needed this ship, as I need her now. "When do we leave?"

Jack smiled one of his slow, almost foreboding smiles, and his dark eyes seemed to shine. "Tomorrow," he said.

Author's note: Chapter nine, at last. Caroline is a fairly minor character, and you won't see much of her, but she's useful. Caroline Reith. You begin to see how many names this crazy Miriam has. Matthew, Anthony, Richard, Ada, Raven. And she's got more, too. Consider that she's been sailing for eight or nine years, and she probably changes ships once ever three to four months, five or six if she really likes it. That means she has anywhere from sixteen to thirty-six names for ships alone, plus land-names (Raven is a land name, for example. All of her female names (exception of her real name) are "land names"). It's not her names I have problems with, it's the names of the ships that drive me crazy.

Review Responses:

Reese Sparrow: I found an automatic ship name generator. It's cool. I usually modify the names it serves up a bit, but it helps. Vicious Melissa is one of its creations that I really liked for some reason, even though ship names ending in a are supposed to be unlucky.

DaydreamBeliever14: Yes, there will be much more Jack.