Special Delivery, Chapter 7

Ding Dong Merrily on High

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

Rating: PG, maybe?

Well pleased with himself for having successfully eluded being roped into his wife's schemes, Will Turner made his way down to the smithy, whistling merrily as he walked through the streets. He had not lied to Elizabeth and Anamaria; he actually did have some final touch ups to make on a present.

He also wished to see how Joshamee was faring; the smithy more than likely was serving simply as a place to hang his hat while Mr. Gibbs visited his lady friend in the town. For all he enjoyed teasing the older man, Will knew age and a hard life were taking their toll; eventually, if he lived long enough, Gibbs would retire from the sea. The letter of marque would at least keep the Black Pearl's crew safe from the Royal Navy; at any rate, those who chose to follow Jack's lead in accepting the Crown's offer.

For the moment, Will could allow his thoughts to ramble back over the past decade. Even as a young lad, first taken in as apprentice to Master Brown, he had never dared to dream so high as where he now found himself. Since Jack had blown…Will paused and laughed aloud as he corrected himself...as Jack had swaggered into his life, everything had turned topsy-turvy. The pirate had been right when he told Will that it all came down "to what a man can do and what a man can't do." Good advice all around, even when it came to making a place for himself in Jamaican society.

On that satisfied note, he reached the door to the smithy and entered, calling out to see if Gibbs was about. Hearing no immediate reply, Will went to check on his donkey in the pen behind the building. His helper had kept the beast fed and watered and she was dozing, her eyes and long ears at half mast, the near hind leg cocked up. Clucking so as not to startle her, Will reached over the gate and scratched her warm neck and around under her jaw, just where she liked it best and then stroked her ears gently. He opened the gate and slipped in to catch her by the cheek strap of the halter and lead her into the smithy; once his last chores were done he would take her back up to the mansion and then Hortense could spend her Christmas Day in the Governor's stable or pasture.

Stoking the forge Will hitched the donkey into the wheel to run the bellows. As the temperature built, he took out the items he wanted to work on and set them to heat. He removed his hat, jacket and good vest and shirt, exchanging them for an old shirt and heavy leather apron more suited to his task. As he went to fold his clothes and place them neatly away from dirt, he noticed a piece of paper pinned to the work bench. Will was wholly unsurprised to see Gibbs' plain script informing him that he, Joshamee, was visiting a certain lady but would return in time to attend the dinner up at the Governor's, not wishing to disappoint Miss Elizabeth.

"Well, Mr. Gibbs, I do hope you are enjoying yourself. You've nicely managed to escape being drawn in to whatever Elizabeth and Anamaria are up to, at least so far. I would hazard a guess, however, that we all are going to be involved up to our ears by the time the New Year comes in a week."

Will had long ago begun talking aloud to himself and Hortense after Brown had taken to drink following his wife's death. It filled the silence and the donkey was a good listener, if a poor conversationalist. Humming softly, Will drew the knife blade from the coals, checking the colour for the correct temperature. Satisfied, he set to finishing the shape of the blade, a small piece fit for a woman's hand. He laughed at what the biddies of Port Royal would have to say if they knew he was making his lady wife a dagger for Christmas.

A final heating and quenching and the blade was ready for finishing. Now whistling in good humour Will set to polishing the blade and then carefully ground it to make its edge. He had the ivory pieces already shaped and delicately carved with mermaids and dolphins for the handle. He thought the ivory and the fine silver pommel and polished quillons would finish the knife very prettily. The pommel he had formed up into an elegant shell design and had chased it to make it even more decorative, even the ends of the quillons had been worked into tiny shells.

For all its prettiness, the little dagger would have a razor's sharp edge, not unlike its intended owner. The sheath and matching belt were in deep blue leather with silver mounts to complement the dagger. Will had no idea where Elizabeth might find a use for the dagger but he knew she would appreciate it for the work of art it was. He had other, more conventional, gifts for her but he knew this would be a favourite.

Several hours passed before Will was finished. A final wipe and check for imperfections in the sunlight showed a flawless mirror shine on the little dagger. Tucking it carefully into its sheath, he wrapped it in layers of cloth, tying the package with a blue ribbon. He unhitched the donkey and returned her to her pen while he secured the forge, not anticipating its use for a day or two. He scrubbed down well and dressed in his good clothes again, ready to return to the mansion. So far, no one had come pounding at his door seeking help or to complain about his wife's activities. He was not entirely certain he should be happy about the silence or whether worry would be a better choice.

As Will finished dressing, Gibbs returned to the smithy, a large grin on his whiskery face. Looking around, he caught sight of Will putting on his good waistcoat and went over to help the youngster with his jacket. When Will turned around, he looked Gibbs up and down and whistled in disbelief at the man's turnout; good brown broadcloth coat and breeches and a clean linen shirt. The waistcoat seemed a tad florid to Turner's eyes but to each his own sense of fashion. After all, if Jack was close by, he would be the peacock people noticed, any lesser beings would disappear into his shadow by comparison.

"I wondered when you were going to show up. I was beginning to think you had made off permanently with your lady friend, Josh, and were going to abandon the rest of us to Elizabeth and Anamaria's ploys."

"Hey now, young Will, I said I'd be back in plenty of time to head up with you for your good wife's dinner and here I am."

"Much later and we would have had to send out search parties."

"Strange, is it not, that a man would be keeping so far away from his own young wife on this, their first Christmas Eve together as husband and wife?" Gibbs got his own jibe in, bristling out his side whiskers in a gleeful smile at his friend's expense.

"Not strange at all, as you know perfectly well, simply a matter of prudence."

Gibbs and Turner looked at each other for a moment, each grinning like a mad thing at the thought that others were targets for the pair of lady pirates at large in the town.

"Is Jack still up at the Commodore's, then, Will?"

"Of course he is; he's not the fool he makes himself out to be sometimes. James has a fine cellar and library and a housekeeper who positively dotes on Jack. It's more a wonder that Jack can fit his clothes after a visit. Mrs. Bloom has adopted him in all but name and spoils him dreadfully. At the rate he's going, he will need more gold teeth in the near future."

"Aye, he knows a soft berth when he finds one, Jack does. Never would have believed Jack and Norrington could have become friends like they done. Almost want to say "bad luck" but that ain't the case here. Still and all, it's a strange mix."

"Maybe not so strange, Josh, Jack has elements of the gentleman and James has something of pirate in him though you wouldn't countenance it in either of them, particularly when they are busy sniping at each other."

"Good thing Jack decided to accept that Letter of Marque, else the Commodore would still be after hunting him down and hanging him."

"James does take his duties seriously. As you say, it's a good thing they've come to an accord. I'd hate to lose either friend due to an execution."

"Wonder what's goin' on right now up at the Governor's house, eh, Will?"

"I probably should be wondering but until I must, I prefer to keep clear."

"Most men would say you're afraid of your own wife, you know, lad."

"Ah, but you're not most men, are you?"

"No, that I'm not, having seen your missus get right into the thick of things with that there Barbossa character. Quite something when she gets the bit between her teeth, like."

"That she is."

Will's face took on such a happy, besotted look that Gibbs just shook his head and laughed at the young man.

"Well, no matter. It's past time we was heading up to the mansion, ain't it? Wouldn't want to be late, you know. Anything else you need to do here before we go?"

"No, I'm done. Just have to secure the packs onto Hortense and then we can be off."

"You call the donkey Hortense? That's quite the fancy moniker for a blacksmith's donkey."

"What can I say? I heard the name when I was a lad and thought it sounded fine for her."

"No accountin' fer taste, I s'pose."

Gibbs wondered what lady Will had borrowed the name from; somehow, he did not believe the woman, whoever she was, would have been pleased to have been the namesake for a lowly and very hairy donkey. Smiling to himself, he helped Will load the packs onto the beast and they left to make their leisurely way up to the Governor's fine house and whatever disasters awaited them. He had hopes that the dinner at least would be a fine one; he had a feeling that they would need it.

The mid-day repast had been as fine as ever, Mrs. Bloom's talents had been exercised to please her pirate's delicate palate. She had outdone herself, in fact, as James cast his appreciative eye across the fine mahogany dining table with its burden. He knew with no doubts whatsoever that Jack Sparrow had been the source of inspiration for the woman's more creative efforts unlike his own apparently more plebian needs and tastes.

He paused for a moment, considering whether he should feel slighted by the disparity and then shrugged lightly, it was much more amusing to observe the flights taken by both pirate and cook when under his roof at the same time. He enjoyed whatever Mrs. B. came up with, plain or otherwise, and he had absolutely no intention of losing the best cook on Jamaica by a careless word.

A loud clattering and whistling announced the imminent arrival of said pirate just before the door from the hallway was thrown open, framing the flamboyant figure in the opening. A pause carefully timed for effect, and then Jack strolled in and inspected the dishes with anticipatory delight before taking his place at the head of the table. James cocked up an eyebrow at the performance and caught his guest's roving eye, pointedly glancing at his armchair Jack had usurped so cockily.

"James, there you are, mate! Why don't you just take a seat and then we can have our meal. Don't take all day about it, things will get cold and then you'll have to explain to Mrs. B. why it's your fault that her fine dishes went to waste."

"Why thank you, Jack. I'll just sit over here, shall I?"

"That will do fine; just hurry up about it, eh?"

James was in a mellow mood so he did not trouble to tease his house guest further when there was such a fine meal to be had. That bucket of water he had managed to toss at Jack had been a pleasant beginning to the day and, so far, nothing had arisen to spoil the lingering satisfaction of such a schoolboy prank.

They dined amicably on the bounty set out before them. They conversed leisurely for a time and then sat back to enjoy a bottle of wine at the end of their meal. There was quite a bit of time yet before they had to make themselves ready for the dinner party up at the Governor's mansion and neither had to be anywhere other than where they were presently situated.

"What do you plan to be doing for the next little while, James? It's far too early to dress for Elizabeth's little dinner."

"I just have two letters to finish penning and then my responsibilities are done, other than to give my staff their Christmas presents and to release them to their family obligations for the rest of the day. What do you wish to do in the mean time, Jack?"

"I believe I'll keep you company while you do your writin' and then, if you don't mind, I'd like to go along with you so as to give my presents as well."

"I see no difficulty in that. Come then."

With that, James pushed back his chair and rose from the table, sauntering back to his study. His letters would not take all that long, perhaps an hour, and hopefully that would not try Jack's patience too harshly. A bored and restless Sparrow was not a comfortable houseguest as James had discovered in the recent past.

Jack checked over the table to be certain that he had not overlooked a hidden treat and then slipped along the hall after the Commodore's tall figure. James settled in at his desk and got down to business in his usual efficient fashion and lost track of time and company for a while as he attended to his correspondence.

When he stretched his back and neck after finishing the second letter, James reached for the sand to hasten the drying of the ink prior to folding and sealing the pages and glanced around at an odd sound. He realized that Jack had found something to keep himself entertained with after all. On the other side of the room was a large table that Norrington used to lay out the sketches and models for his ship designs. Sparrow had found and set up a couple of small ship models, a ship in a bottle and several objects standing in for other vessels on a broad chart of the Caribbees.

To Norrington's deep amusement, the pirate was sprawled on his belly across the table, a ship in each hand as he played Navy and Pirates throughout the islands of the Caribbean. Jamaica evidently had already been captured and pillaged; a quick stop to Tortuga for the pirates to let off some steam, judging by the ships placed there, and then it would seem that the Windward Islands were about to come under attack.

Jack was mindful of the roar of the cannons and the commands and shouts on each side as he supplied appropriate sounds for the battle. In his enthusiasm for a particularly adroit maneouvre on the part of the Black Pearl, Jack's voice rose above the murmur he had been using to keep from disturbing James. Oblivious, he continued to play as Norrington very quietly left his seat and padded across to peer over Jack's shoulder.

"How goes the battle?" James inquired rather loudly, succeeding in startling Jack into an abrupt jerk and a cringe of guilty embarrassment. Granted, the man recovered quickly with his customary presence of mind and quick tongue but Norrington was pleased with himself; it was seldom that he was able to steal a march on Sparrow.

"Here I am, admiring your little boats and such fine plans for 'em and you come sneaking up behind me. Very ill mannered of you, I must say, especially for a Commodore. Thought you were supposed to be oh-so polite and lah-di-dah and here you come sneaking up on me, interrupting me at me labours. That's the second time today you've done that."

"Nonsense, I merely came over to see what sort of mess you were making of my work table."

Jack slithered back off the table, placing each model back on the table and straightening the charts and plans he had scattered about. James kept a watchful eye on the proceedings, his bland expression giving little away. The pile of sheets tidied into a neat pile, Jack brought the top page closer to the edge of the table and turned to ask James to explain the details of the vessel's plan.

For a couple of beats, James looked Sparrow in the eyes, giving no clues at all to what he was thinking, waiting for the man to sway closer to him and begin to speak. He suddenly smiled, his eyes turning warm and gleeful; he was quite willing to go over the details of his designs and drawings with Jack as he knew the Black Pearl's captain would appreciate what he was seeing.

"You're getting too good at playing me, James, will have to see about remedying that situation. Now, get busy and tell me all about these little boats you've been creating. That fine little sloop of yours looked like she should have some sisters to play with."

"The Swift does but only on paper to date. There are details here for other vessels, men of war and such, not just the small craft."

James hauled out sheets of plans and detailed drawings that he wished to show Jack, giving the man a bit of an elbow to make him shift along the table to make way for him. The models he rearranged so that they matched the drawings. Jack crowded back to James' side and together the pair explored the designs James had created. The more finished drawings were inked in a bold, clear hand; the penciled elements showed the changes as the architect made his choices. Jack's nimble fingers floated merrily across the pages strewn over the broad table, lighting here and there as he inspected and commented on what he observed.

The two men occupied themselves with the plans and models until it was time to dress for Elizabeth's dinner party. They headed off to their respective quarters to make ready. As it was a formal occasion of sorts, James selected his dress uniform; although he had acclimated to Jamaica's heat he still wished the uniforms could be of a more practical sort. Although he sometimes envied Jack's freedom in wardrobe selection, James knew the dark blue, white and gold suited him well. Not everyone could be a gaudy pirate like Sparrow but then, not everyone could be a Commodore either.

For his part, Jack had brought a nice selection of garments he had acquired recently from French and Spanish sources which were better left unnamed. He was perfectly aware of his looks and had no compunction about playing them up when he wished to make an entrance. Given that it was Elizabeth's party, he decided to make use of the Spanish garb. The coat and breeches were in fine black silks with heavy black lacework and embroideries giving a lush, rich look. The waistcoat was also black but embroidered with gold-wrapped threads. His shirt was an extraordinarily fine white linen from Egypt with a relatively simple cravat edged with lace; centred in the fall of the cravat just below the knot was a pigeon's blood ruby the size of a quail's egg.

Jack had curried his mane until it appeared much sleeker and had removed some of the lesser ornaments for the occasion, along with an impressive mound of hair snarls. In his ear, he wore a tear drop shaped black pearl and on his hands, he wore his heavy silver rings and several more set with fine gems. He added a black sash over his waistcoat and stood back to admire the picture he presented.

He had not forgotten to refresh the kohl around his eyes but had taken care to apply it to enhance his eyes rather than to cut the sun's glare. His beard and moustache had been neatly trimmed and the beard braids redone with jewels befitting the high toned affair he would be attending. In honour of the occasion, he left his beloved old leather hat on the dressing table and in its stead donned a fine black cocked hat. A few other items found their way into his capacious pockets and Captain Jack Sparrow was ready for a party.

Stepping out of his chamber, Jack trotted down the stairs to meet up with James. It was time to give out presents and wish everyone merry and then head up to the mansion. Jack came to the foyer and headed for the open doors to the salon where James' small household had assembled; he could hear a buzz of conversation and laughter and so he went in to join them.

James looked over to the doorway and grinned when he saw the apparition of splendour that now graced his home. The servants followed his glance and broke out into admiring oohs and ahs at the Spanish grandee who occupied centre stage. The Commodore stepped forward to greet his guest with a low bow and flourish, showing a fine leg. Not to be outdone, Captain Sparrow removed his hat and made an even lower and more extravagant leg in his turn. Both men turned to face their audience, Norrington straight-backed and regal, Sparrow fluid and graceful, and then together they made their bows to the men and women of the household, receiving a round of applause for their efforts.

Formalities tended to, the time came for handing out presents and well wishes. The gifts were not excessive but had been chosen for the people individually, giving the proceedings a personal and affectionate touch. The household staff were very fond of their Commodore and were fiercely loyal to him; Jack Sparrow had taken a bit longer but he had wormed his way into their affections as well. There were also Christmas baskets for each member of the staff to take home to their families. Upon the completion of the gift-giving, the men and women made their farewells and departed to spend time with their families.

Their duties done, the Commodore bowed the resplendent Captain out the front door and shut it behind them, pausing only to turn the key in the lock. Ignoring the not-so subtle comment that it would not take much effort to break in, now that everyone was gone, Norrington led his friend out to the street to enter the carriage waiting to take them up to the mansion.

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