Note: This is about a year later, when the Sparrow brothers meet in Tortuga again. Pearl is already sailing with Jack.
Chapter 5
Delicate, almost
I lean onto the rail and watch the sea playing with the Pearl's bow. Rub my eye slowly. God I am so tired. We're at anchor somewhere off Tortuga, ready to set sail. I sigh. They will set sail. The Pearl's crew and Jack. Captain Jack Sparrow, and he will leave me behind once again. No mind you he never left you behind. You left.
Although you wanted to stay. You have your own life, your own crew, your own ship. It's a good ship. The Black Lotus to meet the Black Pearl. She is out there waiting for you. Why are you still here, Captain Sparrow? That is not my name, that is his name. But it is you, don't you see. You are Captain Hal Sparrow. Have been for so many years. I am that man? How did that happen.
I tilt my head lightly to hear the bones in my neck crack. I lay my cold hands onto my own shoulders to put some pressure on the pain. God my whole back is stiff. I need to rest. I can't remember how many days and nights I haven't found sleep. I'm beginning to see things that are not there. And I am cold all the time. I pull my black coat tighter around my chest. Cough. And wince at the dull pain inside. There must be another broken rib in there. I thought I had come out fairly unscathed of the last battle. I didn't feel the pain until now. But sometimes I think I lost the ability to feel. I reach between the coat and the shirt, try to find where the rip did break. Breathe in and out to feel my chest heave. I am getting old. Old and brittle. No, wait. I have always been old. And … tired. Maybe … maybe I can just sit down here for a while.
I draw the blade, for no reason at all. Watch it shine in the moonlight. Feel the weight in my hands. Assume position. Hear it move, cut through the air. Sheath it. Kneel, in the proper pose, in the triangle the bow of the Pearl forms, and draw it again seated. But I don't move. No, just not now. I can just sit here for a while. I lay the blade onto my palms and raise it towards the moon, with a light bow. Will you bless us once again? I haven't prayed in years. I never really prayed. I never really understood the reasons for this, not in the Dojo in Japan, kneeling in front of the shrine, not after. I said the sutra I never really understood. I heard the words flow from my mouth regulating my breath. Ma ka han ja na ra ma ta shin gjo. And on and on through the whole piece. They said it was for breathing exercise mainly. I never cared about what I said, although I knew the words by heart. Now, I ask you for good fortune. If there is such a thing. I need it, I am becoming wary. I am scared too much. Scared of things that are not there. Bless the katana at least, sometimes I think it is the only thing keeping me sane. I bring the sword closer to my face. And wrap my fingers around it. Feel the edge cut into my skin. I can't feel the pain. I feel nothing. I can't feel myself. I am not sure if I am still there. I am numb. I lay the blade down in front of me and put my hands to the floor in front of my knees. Palms on the planks. My index fingers and thumbs forming a triangle. I bow to the blade until my forehead almost touches the back of my hands.
When I sit up again, I assume the position I was in for so many years in the dojo, kneeling on my calves and heels, very still, and then lay my hands in my lap, left hand on right hand, cupped lightly. Maybe I can just sit here for a while. Maybe someone comes to bless me. Bless the katana. I should have sheathed the blade again. The master will not be happy. Not supposed to sit around here with the blade lying on the deck where it doesn't belong, and sit with your back straight. Can you still feel your feet? Does it hurt? It does. You may cross your feet if the pain becomes too much. No, never. Up, up with the head, like someone pulls you upwards by a thread. I smile, a noose maybe. No noose, a thread. You form a perfect S with your spine. Who taught you to move? Can't you stand straight? You swing the Bokken like someone trying to catch a fly. I want a sword, not a stick of wood. To swing it around like a little girl would swing a scarf when dancing? No unnecessary moves I told you. But I just move like that. But that is not proper movement. Is my head falling forward, chin meeting my chest?
Am I sleeping?
Suddenly, I feel movement behind my back. My hands reach for the blade that is not there because it is on the planks in front of me. I startle, and jump half to my feet, to turn around. There is a knife in front of my face, and I feel a sudden flash of pain running up to my cheek from my mouth. Pain. I can feel the pain. I am so amazed. It never crosses my mind to reach for the cutlass on my right side. The katana is not there and I am unarmed therefore. I push the attacker away, trying to punch him with my elbow. I hear a shriek, and someone falls onto his back. I reach forward and grab hold of the sword on the deck, turn and raise my hands with it. And on her back before me is Pearl, the girl, Jack's girl, my girl, whoever's, she is there and I punched her. Is she bleeding?
I am bleeding, I sense the coppery taste in my mouth. She cut me. Why did she cut me?
"Why did you cut me?"
"I didn't mean to cut you!" She's on her feet in one swift motion. "I just wanted to scare you, putting the knife to your throat, that's all. Just a game."
"Scare me?" What the hell?
"Who could count on you to try to punch my teeth out!"
"Scare me!" You scared the hell out of me. This could have ended worse than with bruises, and a cut on my face. Cut. Pain. Delicate, almost. I can feel it.
"You scared the hell out of me!" I didn't mean to scream that. You are still standing with the katana raised. I am? Yes, you are. I'm sorry. I lower the sword.
"Please don't do this, don't do this. I could have hurt you."
"Well, but so could I! I almost cut your throat."
Maybe she wanted to do that for real. God she hates me. Do I hate her? I wish none of that had happened. None of that at all. None of what? Her cutting you, or her being born? Just nothing.
I stare at the small person down on the deck. I cannot handle this. And I run, sword in hand.