Special Delivery, Chapter 4

This is a tale that belongs somewhere after the Kettle of Hawks story line. No angst, no hurt. A Christmas one shot story that keeps growing. I've kept Theo as Groves' first name as I like it; unfortunately I don't know who first used it so credit is due to that person. Gillette appears to have chosen Dominic for his name, at least in my universe.

Disclaimer: the usual. Don't own, belongs to the Mouse, no infringement intended, no profit made.

Rating: G

Let Nothing Ye Dismay

"You cannot be serious! You mean to tell me that you left Elizabeth Turner and that pirate woman to wreak disaster upon Port Royal and the Commodore approved?"

"I did indeed. It should provide a good deal of entertainment for us over the next several days. Besides, it was James who suggested that the ladies should be kept together."

Groves kept a straight face as he related the details of his assignment to his friend, Gillette, perfectly content to watch the man fairly crackle with hilarity at the thought of the potential havoc. Their eyes met with mutual delight at the opportunity to assist the mayhem with their own experienced hands. It had been ages since they had had such an opening handed to them. After all, it was not as if their commander was unaware of the potential consequences.

"Well, it would appear that this Christmas is looking better and better. This Anamaria, what is she like? I've heard she is one of Sparrow's officers on the Black Pearl. She was there when we had to deal with that Barbossa fellow, was she not?"

"Aye, that's true, Dom, she and Gibbs seem to be the senior officers on the ship. The rest of the crew is as peculiar an assortment as you could imagine, there's one who is a dwarf of some sort, even has a beard braid like his captain."

"What's the ship itself like, Theo? What sort of discipline do they have? I mean, there must be something they're doing right because you can see the ship looks good and is handled well. Just look how she came in to her anchorage today; that was neatly done, no matter who the crew and master."

"It was quite novel to observe how Sparrow handles things aboard. They might not be real Navy but they do have their own ways and they get the job done. The ship has been very lavishly restored, Sparrow spared no expense on the Black Pearl and the workmanship is superior, even on the little I could see. I didn't have that much time to observe closely but Captain Sparrow has invited me back so that I can have a better chance to see for myself. Apparently my admiration of his ship did not pass unnoticed."

"Theo, a blind man could see your infatuation with that ship and her captain."

Gillette was not above teasing his friend. His own experience aboard the Dauntless with the skeleton pirates had tempered his opinions somewhat. Sparrow's escape from the gallows and the leniency of both the Governor and Norrington had been another surprise but one that on reflection and discussion with Theo and Tosh, he had come to accept.

Groves gazed at the innocent look on the fair-skinned face, knowing well the devious mind under the flaming red hair. The uniform and wig concealed a born prankster and with the French and Irish mix, Groves knew Gillette came by his abilities honestly. James was equally sly but had a different style; anyone looking at Norrington would see a dignified and austere officer and gentleman. Little did they know what perils lurked beneath the fancy camouflage.

"Miss Anamaria is a handsome woman, an islander but I don't know which island that would be; she has a bit of a French accent mixed with island patois. She must be capable, otherwise Sparrow would never allow her to handle his ship nor would that crew accept orders from her. I had the impression that she could be quite the firebrand but the other sailors seemed to be rather proud of her."

"So do you think we should assist her in her endeavours whilst she's visiting?" Gillette could sense a kindred spirit in the woman his friend described and was looking forward to meeting her.

"I do, indeed. Anamaria chose to billet with Mrs. Turner up at the Governor's mansion in order to assist in dealing with the tradesmen displeasing to the lady."

"I expect the thought of the pair of them loose on the town would be enough to make shudders run down the necks of Will Turner and the Governor."

Gillette snorted with laughter as he imagined the faces of the people who would be taken to task by the two women. Elizabeth Turner when she had been Miss Swann had not been a favourite of his and he had had several run-ins with her. The events of two years past and her marriage had tempered Elizabeth's personality somewhat; Gillette also had gained some maturity along the way until now they were able to see each other with more tolerant eyes. They were not yet friends but they had achieved some common ground.

"What did James and Sparrow do about that, anyway?"

"I don't know yet. I sent the carriage off to take Sparrow to James' house but I don't know when James left his offices to return home. It wouldn't matter terribly if he was late as his housekeeper has been preparing for Sparrow's visit for a while. You know what a fine cook Mrs. Bloom is and how much she dotes on that pirate."

"Hmm, I wonder what kind of treats Sparrow gets that the rest of us don't?"

"Who knows, other than they will be very tasty."

"I suppose we'll have to leave James to deal with Sparrow whilst we find ways to entertain our lowly selves, non?"

"Indeed." Groves mimicked his commander's dry delivery perfectly, down to the familiar cool stare, causing renewed laughter in his friend.

Norrington accompanied Jack Sparrow down the hall to the comfortable study and library that was one of his favourite rooms in the house, pausing long enough to make a pointed remark about the flotsam jettisoned about his foyer.

"You are planning to haul that mess up to your room, aren't you? My staff do have better things to do than pick up after wayward pirates, you know."

"Eh? You mean you want a guest to engage in manual labour?"

"I do not recall issuing an invitation to you but somehow, here you are, regardless."

"It was a very clear invite, James, as you know perfectly well."

This last statement was received with silence.

"Oh, very well, I invited meself to your pretty little house and your pretty little guest room. For the record, I don't recollect you puttin' up much of a protest. I'll just run my gear upstairs and then join you. Make yourself useful, why don't you; be the good host and lay out the pieces for a game?"

"Certainly, Jack. Pray, allow me to take that bottle for you. So where do you want to play today, by the window or out in the garden?"

"By the window would be good, just throw open the doors to the garden and it will be just fine. We can always go out if we wish; after all that fine food, a siesta under a nice shady tree would be welcome later on."

Jack slung most of the bags over his shoulders, telling James please to be taking a particular bag into the study, then headed up the stairs to his room, anticipating a very pleasant afternoon and evening. He had several gifts for his host and Mrs. Bloom, as well as for the lad and his bonny lass on the morrow. He had had a very enjoyable time looking for just the right presents; shopping was so much more pleasant when one had the wherewithal to command respect. Of course, certain items had been commandeered in the proper pirate fashion; Captain Jack Sparrow did have a reputation to keep up.

For his part, Norrington tucked the bottle under his arm and heaved up his guest's sack, hauling it into his tidy study. He was quite curious to ascertain what Jack had brought this time, prior visits had produced varied and odd items, depending on what had struck his friend's whimsical tastes and roving eye. He merely hoped that nothing had been relieved from anyone with whom he was on amicable terms.

James dropped the bag onto a chair by the fireplace and set the wine bottle down on the table in the window embrasure. His chess players were stowed away in their fitted drawer under the table top with its inlaid board. The set was an old and battered one and had seen many games in its years; it had belonged to his grandfather who had given James his earliest lessons with it.

As he set the pieces out, he thought back affectionately on the old man and smiled in amusement as he imagined his grandfather playing chess with his pirate. The two would have got along tremendously as there had been more than a little of the wild rover in Samuel Redfern. James knew his grandfather had had quite the adventures as a young man at sea or when he served as a soldier. Even in his more advanced years, Redfern dealt with the freebooters who plied the south coast along the Channel, keeping himself amused in the time honoured tradition of foiling the authorities.

As he continued his task, James let his thoughts wander through the past, enjoying the opportunity to reminisce. The pieces had been well designed and carved, the ivory and ebony soft and patinaed with age and handling. They had acquired a chip here and there, several had been mended after accidents, but he would not exchange them for the finest set sculpted in the most valuable of materials. He held the two queens in his hand, waiting for Jack to come in to begin their game, looking out the window to the distant lands beyond the horizon, gently stroking them with his thumb.

A light chiming announced his house guest's arrival; Jack had taken the time to remove his boots and now wore a pair of soft leather slippers, heavily embroidered in the Moroccan style. James was a bit mystified by the soft ringing; he was used to the occasional clatter and tinkle from Jack's braids and beads but this had a rather different tone. He tilted his head slightly to hear better and caught Jack's eye, raising an enquiring brow.

"You look perplexed, James."

"I am a bit, rather. You have something of a ringing about you today, unlike the usual clacking of your beaded bits."

Jack put on a look of indignant censure at the description of his signature ornaments; it had taken years to acquire the collection and he was inordinately proud of it. Besides, each bit held a part of his past and his memories, some good, some ill, but all what made him the unique man he was.

"Clacking. That wounds me, it does. The fine and dulcet tones you are hearing are from the silver bells I've added in honour of the season, a festive touch, don't you think?"

As he spoke, Jack roamed around the study, peering into boxes and lifting up items that caught his roving eye and beckoned his agile fingers. James sat down at the window table and settled back to watch patiently as he knew from experience that Sparrow would perambulate until his curiosity had been satisfied. The man seldom, if ever, came to rest for any appreciable length of time, a true child of the restless sea and as ageless in some respects.

As Jack explored, the Commodore poured them each a glass of wine and sipped from his stemmed glass while he waited, holding it up to the light to admire the pale gold colour. He had left some of his plans for new vessels at his work table in addition to a mock-up for a hull; Jack had been quite taken by the Swift and James knew he would be able to recognize the similarities to her in the plans. It would be quite interesting to hear what suggestions Jack would make on the subject of naval architecture; James had yet to discover how the Black Pearl sailed as well as she did, aside from having a captain who understood her heart in his own soul.

True to his expectations, the table and its sheets of drawings did lure the rogue. His attention well caught, Jack leant over the table, peering closely at the details on each sheet, muttering to himself when he came across things of which he approved.

"Well, Mister Sparrow, what do you think?"

"That's Captain Sparrow, as you know perfectly well, Mister Commodore Norrington. As for what I think, I think you've a bloody marvellous talent that you've been hiding under all that brocade. There are some very pretty little boats here, just waitin' to be built and set free."

"I'm glad you approve, Jack. By the way, there are some new additions to my library since you last ransacked it."

"Yes. I did notice," Jack's answer came accompanied with a limpid dark brown gaze up from under his brows as he swayed back a bit to peer across to the tall man seated by the window.

"Well, before you proceed with taking what you want, et cetera, do you still wish to have a game now or wait until later?"

"Actually, I think you ought to open that bag first. After all, I did go to some lengths to acquire the contents."

"Is it something I should have to be concerned about, given your propensity for thievery?"

"You wound me, you do. You'll just have to open it and find out for your own self, then."

James rose and sauntered over to the chair and stood looking down at the canvas sack, stained with tar and salt and bound with worn and prickly hemp cords. He lifted it up on to his work table and set about releasing the lines. Some of the knots were swollen from the damp and he resorted to using his pen knife to cut through the problem. The canvas flaps then were flipped open, revealing a wooden case with no markings other than a finely executed drawing of a mariner's compass, a diamond inset at due north glinting in the sunlight.

Somewhat puzzled and wholly intrigued, Norrington looked at the man now standing beside him. Sparrow nodded to him to continue, repeating that James would have to open the case to find out its secrets as it wasn't going to tell him just by him staring at it, even if the Commodore's deadly glare was enough to give even hardened scallywags the sweats.

Not troubling to reply, James unlatched the cover and raised it, revealing a large book bound in finely tooled calfskin but one which bore no title on its exterior. Opening it before he could be told to hurry up, James discovered that it was a magnificent atlas but one of which he had never heard. Carefully turning the leaves after the ornate title block, he was absolutely enthralled and silent, his eyes gleaming with wonder at the marvel he had beneath his hands. Page after page revealed seas and lands drawn in exquisite detail, the ornamentation elegant and lavish on some sheets, others were portolani, navigators' charts dense with bearings and notations.

"It's absolutely spectacular, Jack. Where did this come from and who had it made? It's clearly a collection of maps and charts from many sources so someone had to have collected them and then bound together like this."

"I thought you'd have an eye for this and you're one what would appreciate what it really means, not just see a set of maps."

"However did you come by it? I've never heard of this atlas that I can recall."

"Ah, you see, there's the rub: you would not have heard of it. This is one of a kind, this is, and there is not another to match it anywhere."

"How can you be so sure of that?" James turned over that question, suspecting the party responsible stood next to him, a sly smile glinting as Jack held up his hand, forefinger stretched out to emphasize his surety.

"What does the fine Commodore think the answer is?"

"The Commodore thinks that it was you, Captain."

"Ah. Smart man, that Commodore."

"Jesting aside, Jack, how did this collection come about? There's such a range of maps here, some I've heard tell of and others that are completely unknown to me. They are wonderful things, one and all, and together in an atlas that is itself a work of art."

"I've been to many ports over the years and have always tried to get hold of charts, rutters, sailing directions. Bought some, copied many, stole a few if the opportunity presented itself, even found some just lying about here and there. Some of these are copies I've made from my own set aboard the Pearl. My lady love has ways of keeping secrets and my former first mate was not one of her favoured suitors."

"Good heavens. Must say I'm not completely surprised. I've wondered about your navigational skills from what I observed on board the Dauntless, especially with a broken compass that doesn't point north."

"Well, we weren't trying to find north, now, were we?"

Jack's reasonable sounding answer would have been easier to accept if Norrington did not know first hand how treacherous the passage into the Isla de Muerta was. The reefs and surges had taken a brutal toll on those who had tried to force their way through. He stared at the pirate for a moment, considering past events, then decided some things just were not meant for man to delve into, simply accept them and move on. Perhaps some day he would discover the secret of that compass but it could wait.

"Now that we've established you like your present and I can find my way around the seas and my compass really wouldn't know north on a dare, can we get to our game?"

"My present?" James latched on to the one part of Jack's comment that concerned him.

"You look shocked, James. Don't be. I would only give it to one what would understand it and love it for itself. That would be your own fine self."

"I can't accept this, Jack, it's far too valuable and moreover it's something that you've put so much into."

"There, you see? You are the right one to have it."

"Jack, I don't know what to say."

"Say 'thank you, Jack' and then shut up, Jamie. Now can we go have a nice game of chess?"

"Thank you, Jack."

With that, the pair headed over to the game board. James picked up the queens, mixed them up behind his back and then proffered his closed hands to Jack to choose. Jack, being Jack, had to make a production out of the simple choice. He tapped the fingers of his left hand against his cheek whilst he muttered a counting rhyme under his breath, using the forefinger on his right hand to point between James' closed fists. James found himself counting along with Jack then sighed and settled back on his heels to wait the perplexing man out; Jack would eventually make a choice and then they could get on with playing.

"That one."

"This one?"

"That one."

"Are you absolutely certain that's the correct one?"

"Now who's being difficult?"

James laughed at his playing partner, opened his hand and displayed Jack's choice. Naturally it was the Black Queen. They settled themselves down and James opened the play. It was always interesting playing Jack because the man could be astute when he chose but his playing style, although soundly grounded, could be counted on to show unconventional moves that challenged James. Content with their situation, the pair played on through the rest of the afternoon, pausing to converse when the mood struck them, silent when they concentrated on outfoxing the other.

"James?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"D'you mind telling me why you encouraged Anamaria to stay up at the mansion with Elizabeth?"

"Noticed, did you?"

"Aye, I did notice."

"Well, I thought the ladies would enjoy themselves more if they were together."

"You do realize what that pair could do to your town and some of the tradesmen in it, don't you?"

"Indeed. I also took the liberty of suggesting that certain of my lieutenants could make themselves useful and oblige the ladies by helping out."

Jack thought about that remark for a moment, glancing up at James in suspicion. The man knew perfectly well what he was unleashing on the town, the Commodore was a sneaky fellow when he wished to be but Jack thought this plot had a distinctly Machaivellian bent.

"That's very Italian of you, James."

"Beg pardon?" James could not quite grasp where Jack was coming from.

"Italian fella, Niccolo Machiavelli. I'm quite sure you know of him."

"I see. You do me too much credit, Captain Sparrow."

"Should be entertaining at least."

"Yes."

With that, conversation ceased and the players returned to their game. They would have their evening meal in a while, and then amuse themselves with James' library until it was time to retire for the night. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and Elizabeth's dinner party; a good night's rest would help prepare the men for the trials that undoubtedly lay before them.

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