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Chapter Quote: "Tolerable...he drinks too much."

Chapter Five

Tom

I was already worn out with all my lies and forced genteel manners. But as the door opened, I felt my excitement and nervousness rising.

"Yes?" asked the young woman who had opened it. She looked familiar, another ghost face from my past life. When would they end? I cleared my mind of these thoughts as I caught her questioning gaze and forced smile upon my face.

"Is Mrs. Scott at home?"

"Yes'm is she expecting you Miss...?"

"Summers, Jacqueline Summers. And no, but I trust she'll know me when she sees me." The woman nodded slightly, I swear I had thought she was going to give me the boot... until opened the door wider.

"Just this way Miss, please wait right here until I'm sure my mistress wishes to see you." She ushered me inside and left me standing at the foot of the staircase in a house I had not set foot in, in five years. The young woman had a bit of a cockney accent, a smile crept again on my face as I recalled who she was. Rose, the young maid who had been charged with my care during my less then a week return 'home' after my apparent 'rescue' by the Dauntless. She obviously did not recognize me, then again I didn't blame her. I wasn't sure my own mother would recognize me. I shifted my weight from foot to foot as I strained to here the soft voices of Rose and my mother from the Library.

At last she came back out, "Mrs. Scott will see you now."

I had to restrain myself from not dashing ahead, for though I had not been there in a while, I remembered my old home well. Especially the library. For it had been the room where I had discovered the old book on pirates and Jack's love letter and thus started me down the road to what I was now.

Seated on a large chair by the window overlooking the harbor was my mother. Clothed in a gentle yellow dress with a white shawl around her shoulders. Her curls were pulled into a knot atop her head. She looked as beautiful as ever, though as she turned to look at me, there was a sadness in her eyes that was unmistakable. And the slightest signs of age had seemed into her flawless face.

"Miss Summers is it?" she asked softly.

"Yes mum."

"Well." she gazed up and down at me. "I do not recognize you child, what can I do for you?"

She didn't know me. My heart plummeted slightly, I took a few steps forwards and undid my cloak. I searched her sad emerald eyes with my bright ones.

"Don't you know me Mama?" Rose now closed the door, stepping outside. "Don't you know your own daughter, Jacqueline?"

She blinked a few times. "That's impossible. My daughter is dead." She whispered in a shaking voice.

"Am I Mama?"

I knelt by her side and took her hand which felt as cold as ice. She peered closely into my face, and then she suddenly gasped and I was severely afraid that she was going to pass out! I smiled as she burst into tears and embraced me tightly.

"Oh God, if this is some cruel dream or trick to my eyes, let it never end! Let the truth never be known to me!" She cried. I closed me eyes, relishing her touch, her affection, her love for me that I had never really known to exist. I felt tears springing to my own eyes as well as I realized how much pain I had caused her. I had never been close to her as a child, but something had changed in both our lives at that day at the docks so long ago. And though I was a young woman now, I knew I missed her more deeply then I had ever missed anyone before.

"How long have you been here?" Asked my mother as she sat across from me, smiling. I had decided it was better she didn't know that gruesome details of my supposed 'death', she had barely just handled my return, she didn't need to know I was almost hung. I told her only that the Fleet had been mistaken in their judgement that they could rid the world of me so easily.

"I arrived at dawn, and I sail again tonight."

"So soon?" she frowned. "Couldn't you find time for not a bit longer?"

I shrugged, "It is a hard life Mama. I do not think it wise to flaunt myself upon Port Royal with the Navy and everyone else under the fortunate assumption that I am among the deceased." She flinched as I said 'deceased'. She nodded, I knew it was also hard for her to understand...but she had to understand. I think her days when I was a little babe and she a bar maid flooded back into her mind for the briefest moment as I said this. She knew the cruelties of the world as well as any, that was for sure. She knew she could never keep me for long. It was then I noticed how empty the house had become.

"Where are the children?"

"Your older brothers have been making their ways in a the world for a long time now Jacqueline. Annabelle... well... she eloped with a young sailor."

Funny, that didn't surprise me at all. It was true to her personality, and frankly, I had never expected much from the little witch anyway. There had never been any love between us.

"Peter and Daniel are off at school, living with Arthur's parents in England. And young Mark is a cabin boy on one of Arthur's ships."

I smiled, I did not know my younger half-siblings well. (Under Annabelle that is, unfortunately, I knew her all too well.) The younger boys had always been kind to me, and I was happy that they were doing so well. "That is good, Mark will make a fine sailor."

"What of you Jacqueline?" Rose had brought in tea a while ago, and now Mama was gently sipping it. Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "What have you been up to?"

I didn't answer at first, my career cost Arthur hundreds of pounds sometimes. If not him, then Mama's fellow countrymen. Weren't they my countrymen as well though? I hated how I felt torn in two ways. "I have my own ship now. Courtesy of the Spanish of course."

She smiled, "You were always a clever girl Jacqueline. How's your father?"

"Tolerable...he drinks to much."

Mama chuckled softly, "And when did he ever not?"

There was an awkward silence then, we both knew that revealing too much about my life now could be costly to me . You never knew who was listening. The less you know the less you can reveal. I trusted my mother with my life, but even so, the less she knew about me, the better. Damn! I hated that I couldn't tell her what was happening in my life! I hated that could never utter my father's name without a collective gasp from those present. But then again, I had grown to hate many things. Sometimes myself included. God forgive me. Sometimes I wished...

What did I wish? Sometimes I wished to be just like Jack, fearless, proud of what I did and enjoying every bit of my life. Sometimes I longed for the pride that comes from doing what is right, not stealing to benefit myself. Sometimes I wanted to have that old sense of loyalty to king and country. To England. To no longer have to evade capture and death. But which was the life I truly wanted? Damn! Damn! Damn it all! Had I become what and who I am for nothing? Damn again! How could I know which of my wishes were the ones my heart deserved to follow. Damn... you know what? I hate cursing.

Arthur was feeling poorly, so I did not wreak my presence on him. Poor man had enough on his shoulders without knowing that his pirate step-daughter was alive and in his house-hold. So I left. I had forgotten what it was like to live in civil company again, and it was both exhilarating and exhausting at the same time. The familiar docks, shipyards, soldiers marching in perfection, guards pacing the fort walls, carriages rumbling down the now cobblestone streets. Funny... there seemed to be a lot more soldiers and guards stationed here then I could rightly remember... not matter. The town had grown and changed much since my departure.

I wondered what had made Port Royal so popular. For it was easy to see that life had gone on without me. I walked down the street in a laxed manner, my hood drawn slightly over my face. It was nearing Autumn now, not that you could really tell in the Caribbean Isles, but the weather was noticeably cooler. This place was becoming the English port my mother had always dreamed of. Civilized, sophisticated, throughly British to the core. I smiled at all the new shops as I passed them. I picked up my pace as a military patrol marched past.

My heart had now started to beat wildly at the thought of seeing Tom again, for his shop was my next destination. Mama had given my directions, it seems she had not forgotten my friendship with him and had tried to keep contact. Tom, sweet Tom. Had he changed as much as I? I hoped not. I had learned to hold few things dear, for by experience, they can be wrenched away all too quickly and painfully. These thoughts in themselves drew old, unwanted memories to my mind. Memories of the night in particular that Bill had died upon the Dauntless. Forced to fight for those whom he practically considered enemies. What had he thought of when the Pearl had first engaged in battle with Hammer's ship? What frantic notions and dreamful hopes had run through his mind? I sighed, how I missed him sometimes.

I glanced around the street, breaking my train of thought from the onslaught of the past. For there was the blacksmith shop. I could see the sign now from where I stood. Painted on it was a faded grey anvil, underneath of which was painted in bold letters, T. Murphy. I grinned, and broke into a slow jog towards it. It was only then did I notice the large crowd that had gathered both inside and outside the building. All were laughing as they streamed in, many had mugs of only God knows what in their hands. Almost all were men. Drunk men by now. I pushed my way through as best I could until I was standing a the window.

The shouting of the intoxicated men was not something I was unfamiliar with...but Tom had never used to drink... so what was going on? I weaseled my way inside until I stood on the wooden floor of the house, gazing into the shop of one of my dearest friends. Tom had been productive while I'd been away. Very productive indeed. It seems he was not at a loss for work. Not at all, in fact he seemed to be doing pretty well for himself. My hood had fallen back through the jostling of the crowd, and many of the men, stupefied by their drink, hooted at me through all the noise. I had no time for this.

In the center of the throng, standing by the furnace and an anvil, I saw him. He was laughing and smiling, and for a moment I couldn't breathe. The five years since I had last seen him seemed to have agreed with him. Five years since I had last seen his face. Five years. Five long, lonely years. His hair had grown out from the shorter, cropped Irish look he used to posses. He looked taller, if such a thing were possible. The sinewy muscles in his arms were larger. He even bore the faintest traces of a goatee! His face was darkly tanned, his blue eyes were twinkling brightly and his smile...how I missed that smile.

"Congratulations Tom!" shouted one man.

"Yeah, and you've found yourself a nice looking woman haven't ya?" Called another.

One staggered forward with a drained mug in his hand and slurred, "...and mannnnnyyyyyy more!"

They all laughed, but I jerked and frowned. What woman? What were they talking about? My eyes now drifted, and standing, Tom's strong arm around her shoulders, was a woman. She had blond hair, pulled up into a bun. With kind eyes and a warm smile. But who was she? I turned to an elderly man standing next to me.

"What's happened?"

"Don't you know pretty miss? Young Tom's taken hisself a woman."

My mouth went dry, and my skin felt cold. "What?"

"Don't be daft. He's getting married lass."

"Married?" My words came out in a whisper.

"Yes...'ey. Just ou' are ya anyways?"

But I wasn't listening to him anymore. Young Tom's taken hisself a woman. A woman... a woman... The thought echoed in my mind. I felt suddenly sick and a gasp escaped my lips. But it drew no notice from them standing around. Then...then he looked at me. His deep blue eyes turned to me. He was smiling still, I could find no words to utter. Very slowly, his smiled drooped into a frown, he blinked. The sounds of the crowd seemed to die away. And he pushed forward towards me. But, oh God, he was getting married. Young Tom's taken hisself a woman. I couldn't speak, and before he could reach me, I fled into the streets. I ran down them as if the devil himself was throwing flames at my heels. Disappearing into the crowds and shoving my way past the bystanders.

I ran through the woods, the branches tore at my face, I couldn't see. And then, finally, I saw sand. Sweet sand. I stopped abruptly as I reached the shore, and I found myself looking out over the vast stretch of water. The sea, it was the sea. And Tom was getting married. Young Tom's taken hisself a woman. And yet, what had I expected? To knock on his front door and to run into his outstretched arms? What had I wanted of him? Despair, that was what I felt. Despair. I sank to my knees, the sand crunching beneath my dress. I looked out over the blue waters, but the sea offered my no comfort. It was cold, heartless. I could find no words to describe how I felt. The sun stung my eyes, the breeze blew sharply through my mussed hair. And kneeling there, with the gulls calling and flying overhead.

I cried.

TO BE CONTINUED...