CHAPTER THREE
Just a Friendly Visit

"The one and only. I know, I know, you just haven't been the same without me, Etty, I must -"

But whatever he had to do was never known, because before the words could come out, there was a resounding crack as Miss Harris slapped him across the face. Hard.

"What do you think you're playing at? Sneaking up on me, breaking into my house, you, you -"

"Pirate?" he suggested amiably, whilst rubbing his sore cheek.

"Don't you even start, Sparrow, don't you dare!"

"Etty, Etty," he opened his palms, and made 'calm-down' gestures. "Don't get upset now."

"Upset! I'll give you upset, Jack Sparrow, you son of a -" Miss Harris, who had been edging away, now began to advance towards him, hand raised.

"Language, Etty, language," he shook one finger as in mock reprimand. "What would young Joshua think of his teacher?"

Startled, Miss Harris stopped abruptly. "How... how do you know about J-"

"You'd be surprised how eager the folks down at the inn were to talk about you. I must say," his eyes flicked over her, "I never took you for a political activist."

"A... what?" Understandably, Miss Harris was a little confused.

"Apparently you were involved in a coup to overthrow the French monarchy..."

At this Miss Harris uttered a small groan, bringing her hands to her head in frustration, "Since when have you been a gossipmonger?"

"Since I came looking for a certain English lady by the name of Harris, last seen in Charleston. Ring any bells?"

"Don't be so, so..."

"So?"

"So like you, Sparrow!"

He sighed, "Can't help it. It's a curse, really. One that -"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Miss Harris found herself shouting at the pirate before he'd finished his sentence. So sudden was the exclamation that he jumped backwards in the chair, flattening his back against the worn red material. She paused for a moment to run a hand through her hair, to collect her thoughts, to take a breath, before continuing her outcry.

"What gives you the right? You think you're so bloody untouchable, that you're above everything, and anyone else can go to hell! Some of us just want a normal life! I want -"

"Don't tell me you want to live like this," he gestured to the cottage, which, just by the very presence of another person seemed to shrink before Miss Harris' eyes, the ceiling seeming lower than it had ever been, the shells like a child's toy in a dollhouse.

Still, she protested. "Like what? Honestly? Safely?"

"Shut up on the top of a volcano, away from everyone and everything? Pull the other one, Etty."

"I'm teaching!"

"Teaching little gentlemen their dates? Bit of a change, isn't it?"

"As though you'd know."

"Course I'd know! It wasn't that long ago when you were -"

"Don't start! I warned you!" Miss Harris was getting more and more frustrated at his calm responses by the minute. She was shouting, screaming even, and he... he was just sitting in her armchair, feet crossed casually...maddening.

"Why so testy, Etty?"

"Don't... You know why! I left it all behind me! I wanted to leave it all behind me! And now you think you can just waltz in here and -"

"Now, now -"

"- no bloody respect for anything, the work I've had to do -"

"- settle down -"

"- if one of them saw you come up here, I'm finished, I'll be shunned, it'll -"

"Stop shouting and listen to me, woman!" Jack rose to his feet, locking eyes with Miss Harris. Her face was pale except for two red patches on her cheeks from shouting. In some ways, she looked much the same as she'd always done. Straggly brown hair, although now it was pulled up in a bun, a few strands escaping, and sharp blue eyes. Not overly tall, she still had the petite body of one who had been stretched and yet not actually grown in height; long fingers, straight nose, angular jaw, yet standing much shorter than him... but he could've sworn she hadn't been this thin before. And she used to have been almost as brown as him, even had freckles. Now her skin was a kind of ghostly white, attractive by the dictation of fashion, but not at all natural. It had faded through this voluntary isolation, by her locking herself in one house or another until the sun set. He'd never thought she'd...

"Well?"

Jack shook his head slightly, bringing himself out of his thoughts, "Well, Etty, you've... I'm not here to make you do anything."

"Then why are you here?"

"Well the thing is, I," he scratched behind his ear, "I wanted to ask you a favour."

At this, her cheeks turned an even darker red, and he instinctively stepped back.

"Get out of this house right now, Sparrow, or I swear I'll -"

"Wait, Jesus, wait!" he protested, and she stopped mid rant and raised one eyebrow expectantly. "Thank the gods," he placed his hands together in prayer position to punctuate this point. "Now listen, Etty, I just want you to hear me out, that's all. And if you don't want to help me after I've said all I've got to say, then I'll go back to Charleston, get to me Pearl, sail off this bloody island straight away, and ne're bother you again."

"Get to... get to your what?" suddenly, her voice was very quiet.

"Eh?"

"You... you got the Black Pearl back?"

For a moment he blanked, and then he realised what she was talking about. Of course, she wouldn't have heard. "Aye, I got it backa whileago now."

"But... but you... we... how -"

"Sorry, Etty - I'm not starting that conversation up. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Listen - you hear me out, and then I'll tell you of me grand adventures over the last few years."

"I've got a right to know about the Pearl, Sparrow. Lord knows, I -"

"That's the deal. Whether you choose to accept it or not," he gave an careless shrug, "is up to you."

Her eyes narrowed, "Nothing funny? Your word you won't try something on me like -"

"My word! I give you my word on the matter, on the code itself!" he scrambled to comply. Miss Harris paused, considering the situation, before nodding cautiously. "Wonderful, excellent, really a great decision, Etty. What's for dinner?" He sauntered to the table to inspect the contents of the basket. "You won't regret it."

"I think I already am..." She muttered.

--

"So, what's the problem?"

Miss Harris and Jack were sitting at opposite ends of the kitchen table. Jack was digging into what looked like a cold chicken leg, a half bottle of rum within his reach. Miss Harris was cautiously sipping a glass of water.

"Problem? I don't recall mentionin' any sort of problem. Can't a man just visit an old friend for a drink, a nice sociable chat, maybe a -"

"You just decided to take a little jaunt to Nevis for a drink," she gestured to the heavens with both arms.

Her guest smiled crookedly at her expression, "Obviously."

"A little far out, even with the Black Pearl, wouldn't you say?" she retorted.

"Not at all. You've no idea how much I want a drink. I'm parched, wasting away -"

"You look the same as always."

"Thanks, love."

"That wasn't a compliment."

At this his eyebrows were drawn sharply down into a most un-amused frown, and his lips changed from a golden-toothed grin to what could only be called a pout. Her lips remained fixed in a straight line, by contrast, the epitome of seriousness. "Now, really, Etty, I -"

"Jeanette," she corrected him without missing a beat.

"Jean, I fail to be seeing -" he tried to continue but was cut off.

"Jeanette, Sparrow, Jeanette. I'm not Jean, I'm certainly not Etty, I'm not... I'm just Jeanette Harris now, so you can stop all that Etty nonsense. Now out with whatever this is all about."

Giving a most exaggerated sigh, the pirate rose to his feet and stepped towards the window, as though intending to watch the twinkling lights of Charleston in the distance, between the gap in the curtains. One could see the whole of the town from here, and it looked like some magical dell; some of the lights were static like stars, other moved around like ghostly spirits. Not that Jack was usually given to such sentimental thinking, but there was no denying the majesty of the sight before him. In the distance you could just make out the sea, a huge black expanse rippling slightly, like a sheet billowing on a washing line. Before he could admire the scenery fully, however, he turned.

"Well, all right, it's a small problem. It's this treasure -"

Jeanette groaned as he began to pace furiously, his arms akimbo. "You're joking with me, Sparrow. Not again."

"- and it's not as though I'm to blame or anything, but -"

"I highly doubt that."

"It's the truth, darlin'. I mean, how was I supposed to know that -"

"Sit down, Jack," she tried in vain to get him to stop all this pacing - it was making her dizzy.

"- dishonest, that's what it was, plain, bloody -"

"Jack," she tried again.

"- point is, love, I need your help on the matter because -"

"Jack," her voice was louder, firmer on this third try.

And it was third time lucky, it seemed, for he stopped pacing and looked up. "What?"

"Sit. Down." He sat. He was a brave man, but not brave enough to argue with the expression on Jeanette's face.

"Now tell me everything."