As you are probably aware, it does not belong to me … if it did, I certainly wouldn't be sharing it with you guys!
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin …
Love, Farewell
The shout echoed across the island, heads snapping up to peer out over the water in response to the excitement in the voice.
'Sail ho! Two of them!'
Sure enough, there they were, the great rolling hulls of both the Blacksmith's Lady and the Pride of Port Royale. It had been too long since the two ships had returned home, and a happy coincidence that they should have arrived together, usually a sure sign that the celebrations would go on for days to come. After all, the captains of the fine ships making their slow way into the harbour could hardly be turned away now, could they? But those who watched them sail in knew the darker reason for the Sparrows' return, and wished their homecoming could be sweeter.
Will glanced up as a small figure shot through the great doors to his forge, yelling at the top of his lungs for his mother. Grinning, Matthew carefully put his tools down, bending to lift his son into his arms, more to keep the small boy from harm's way than anything.
'What's happened to get you so excited, hmmm?' he asked, glancing over his son's head to where his father stood, waiting curiously for the little boy's answer.
'Uncle Johnny and Aunt Ardell are coming,' Patrick spluttered, so anxious to get his mother down to the dock that he was almost incomprehensible.
Matthew's grin widened in joy, and he turned to call for his wife, ascertaining with a look his permission to leave the forge and greet the returning captains. A young woman came hurrying down the stairs to the loft above them, a tiny girl cradled in her arms as she motioned for her husband to keep his voice down.
'Kit, Johnny's back,' he told her, enjoying the sight of his cool, composed wife suddenly speechless. 'And apparently Ardell, too.'
Her smile was near breathtaking.
'They've come home?' she whispered, biting her lip to quell the joyful tears that tried to bubble to the surface. 'Elias, too?'
There was a loud hissing, and they turned to find Will slipping his coat on, the cooling metal sending sheets of steam into the air around him from where he had dropped it into the bucket of water. He glanced between them.
'Well, I assume we're going to meet them?' he inquired, laughing as Kit scowled good-naturedly at him. 'Come on then.'
They wandered out into the not-so-little village, laughing and joking as others who would not miss this triumphant return for the world joined them. Beth came running from her little home, unable to resist hugging her sister close as Emma came hurrying from across the island to join them.
Together, the three sisters walked arm in arm down to the dock, husbands and children gathered close behind them, to wait impatiently for the two ships to weigh anchor and send their captains ashore. The sound of giggling and rustling skirts betrayed their cousins as they hurtled down to join them, abandoning all pretence of dignity and propriety in their eagerness to see those who were returning home.
They watched the longboats being lowered, the figures within them obviously as excited to be returning as those on the beach were to see them safe. It was only a few minutes before the remaining Sparrows thudded onto the sand, disappearing amid a flurry of greetings. Johnny barely managed to keep his footing as his twin flung her arms about his shoulders, holding him close in a mixture of relief and joy on seeing him once again. Behind him, Lucy ducked Emma's flailing arms to embrace Beth warmly, throwing her closer sister a cheeky grin over the eldest shoulder. The second longboat shooshed up onto the sand, and Ardell and Elias jumped out, kneeling to greet the children who stumbled at varying speeds to welcome their aunt and uncle home.
Amid the excess of laughter, tears, embraces and kisses, Johnny sobered suddenly, his wandering brother and sisters calming with him. Grasping his twin's arm, he looked down into her eyes, almost afraid of what he might see or hear.
'How is she?' he asked softly, acutely aware that those who were not family had moved away as he spoke.
Kit glanced at Beth, her face falling. The older girl sighed, wrapping her arm about Ardell's shoulder as she answered for her sister.
'Not good,' she told them regretfully. 'In all truth, it is just as well you came back when you did. She doesn't have much time.'
'Pa never leaves her side,' Emma put in as they made their way slowly up to the village. 'And Uncle James can hardly bear to be in the same room as her.'
Johnny swallowed, seeing his own sorrow mirrored in the faces of his brother and sisters, and tightened his grip on Kit, suddenly wishing things could go back to being the way they were before he had left the first time.
'She will be pleased to see you all back safe,' Beth said softly, forcing a smile through her bitter sorrow. 'Come and see her, and Pa.'
They moved as one towards the first house to have been completed in the village, the one where they had all been born and grown up. Their companions fell back, knowing how heart breaking this would be for the close-knit family. Will reached out to grip James' shoulder.
'At least they're here,' he murmured gently, struck by how dejected his friend had become.
James sighed.
'It's just as well,' he agreed. 'Jack's going to need them more than ever.'
Will nodded, watching as the little group disappeared into the house, and wishing they could have had a happier reception.
The smell that permeated their childhood home both sickened and saddened the returning children. They had known this would happen someday, but somehow they had all wished for their lives to last forever the way they were. Kit glanced back at her brothers and sisters, motioning for quiet as she opened the door to her parent's bedchamber.
Captain Jack Sparrow, infamous pirate of the Caribbean, sat almost motionless by the bed, his eyes fixed on the pale face of his beloved wife, Marin. His hand held hers in a gentle grip, as though he were afraid he might break her by holding on too hard. She slept, her breathing shallow and laboured, the sound filling the little room, reminding whoever entered that she was not gone yet.
'Pa?' Kit ventured, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence.
Jack raised his head, blearily focusing on his dark-haired daughter as she gazed at him, concern filling her eyes. He managed a lopsided smile for her, knowing even as he did so how hopeless he must look.
'Aye, love, what is it?' he asked, his voice barely audible.
Kit swallowed, daring to step into the little room as she answered him.
'The others are here, Pa,' she told him. 'Johnny and Ardell, and the others . . . they've come home.'
For the first time in what seemed like years, Jack felt a tiny spark of joy flicker within him. His children were here, all of them. He had never been so happy as during that four-year voyage, when he and Marin, and all their children, had travelled the world over, seeing everything they could possibly imagine and more.
He glanced back at Marin where she slept, torn between staying by her side in case she woke, and stepping into the other room to see his children altogether again. There was the sound of muffled movement behind Kit, and James stepped into the room beside her. He held Jack's gaze solemnly, speaking as though Kit wasn't even present.
'I'll sit with her while you're with them,' he told the old pirate. 'They need to see you, Jack, and whether you admit it or not, you need them. I'll send word if she wakes while you're gone.'
Jack swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, wondering for the hundredth time how he had ever managed to make a friend of such an honourable man. He nodded weakly, reaching out to take Kit's hand as she led him out to see her siblings. They stood back, wary of approaching him for fear of his temper, which always seemed to grow far worse when he was afraid or upset.
He looked over them, seeing himself and Marin in each and every one of them. Beth, his firstborn child, the one who had given the most of herself to him over the months of her mother's illness. Johnny, the son who had carried on the family name and traditions, but still remained as close to his parents as ever. Kit, the second daughter who could have been anything she wanted, but chose to be a wife and mother, and remain a loving daughter to them. Lucy, the first to leave the island, and the only one to settle on the mainland, still wearing her heart on her sleeve as her mother had taught her. Emma, the girl whose circumstances had given them so many sleepless nights, and now spent her nights caring for them both. Ardell, his very own pirate lass, a captain in her own right, and still as terrified as ever that she was going to lose her family. And finally, Elias, his youngest, the brains behind Ardell's plans, and the son that another Elias should have been blessed with.
They watched him in silence, unsure whether or not to make the first move. Jack felt all the old memories he had fought so hard to suppress as Marin's condition worsened come flooding back, of the joy she had given him in this motley collection of young people, his own flesh and blood. The tears that he had tried so hard to hold back welled up inside him, leaking out one drop at a time, much to his children's horror.
Helplessly, he opened his arms to them, and they moved as one, each longing to make his pain go away as they held onto one another tightly. Jack gripped them close to him, thanking his stars that they had all come back when he needed them.
The sea crashed against the shore, roaring in the ears of those who waited patiently within their homes for the storm to end. Why tonight, of all nights, did it have to rail so furiously against them, preventing those who had other matters on their minds from acting upon their impulses? But perhaps it was for the best. For it was only family, those who shared the same blood, who gathered in the smallest hut in the village, united in grief and an aching wish for the end to be peaceful.
Marin lay, small and pale, against her pillows, gazing mutely at her family as they sat around her. She was too weak to do anything but smile, watching as her smile was returned by each of them, grateful in her own way that they were all here with her. She knew she was dying, had known for many months before the illness had confined her to her bed, and she was unafraid. She would be joining her beloved guardian before this night was out, and the parents she had never known.
Jack sat silently beside her, as he had done for so long, her hand cupped loosely in his as he fought to prevent the tears that had so moved his children from falling again. He couldn't believe it. He had known this day was coming for so long, and yet still could not bear to let her go. She was the first, and only woman he had ever loved, and she had given him so much joy. Even being land-bound had not chafed his spirit as much as he had expected, not when Marin was with him. But now . . . how would he go on without her?
Behind him, he could hear young Mary gurgling softly in her mother's arms, and Kit's quiet voice soothing her daughter back to sleep. He knew, without turning around, that the twins sat close together, as they had always done, Kit's children held between them as they watched their mother slip away. Johnny had hardly left his sister's side since returning home, clearly needing the strength that only she could give him. Marin had been the source of that strength for them both. But now . . . could they give one another that strength when she had passed?
Beth stood silently by the door, refusing to leave James alone in the shadows, knowing in her heart how much he would need their support in the days to come. In many ways, she was more concerned for him than for her father, since Jack had seven children to share his grief with, and James had only two and his wife. Granted, Laura would also be devastated at the loss of her friend, but Heather and Vanessa had families of their own to tend to, families that would take up much of their time. Her chest was sore with suppressed tears. She loved her mother so very much, and now . . . when she most needed a mother, would she be taken from them?
James watched the group, his thoughts on happier times. His heart ached to recall the weeks he had spent courting Marin, before he knew of their relationship, and the months afterward spent on the sea, voyaging to collect what was rightfully theirs. He remembered the joy he had found on discovering family at last, and the pleasure that had been his since Marin had swept into his life, with all her unconventional ideals and irrational tendencies. She had all but pushed him into marriage with Laura, an act that he could never condemn, loving his wife so dearly as he did. But now . . . with the last of the old bloodline dying before his eyes, could he ever be free of the ache within him?
On Marin's right, Laura was gently wiping her forehead, as she had so many times before, devoting herself to her friend in these last hours of life. She had nursed and tended Marin through almost every birth and illness, and it had seemed only right that she should help her friend to pass easily from this world. She was reminded of Elizabeth's death and of the grief that had come with the news of it, but somehow she knew that this would be harder to bear. For Elizabeth had left behind her a young husband full of ideas and a young son who needed caring for. Marin was leaving Jack, who would crumple without her, and a horde of young people who adored her. Their crosses would be the hardest to bear.
At the window, young Elias was humming a familiar tune, obviously clutching at straws to keep his spirits up. However, the song he had chosen could not have been more appropriate, and he faltered mid-way, clenching his fist against the tears. Ardell reached behind herself to grip his hand, and they clung together, the two youngest of the family. Neither had said very much since their return, both preferring to remain within themselves, to try and hide the desolation that had come with seeing how terribly ill their mother was. When this was over, they would return to the sea, to being pirates once more . . . and each homecoming thereafter would be as painful as this, without a loving smile from the woman who bore them.
Emma sighed softly, the sound carrying through the sickroom as she shifted her son on her lap. She couldn't help but feel guilty for the months of worry she had put her mother through, when really there had been no need, couldn't help wondering if that was what had signalled the end. Adam lunged for a strand of her hair, missing completely, and she smiled faintly, tenderly brushing his nose with her fingertip, remembering fondly the months of happiness she had shared with his father. Her mother had welcomed her back with open arms, even after all she had done. She owed it to her memory not to let her down again.
A little way from her, Lucy watched her mother slip away slowly, her hands clenched in her handkerchief, hot tears rolling steadily, silently down her pale cheeks. A warm hand closed over her fists, and she glanced up in surprise, into Will's face. He knew a little of what she was feeling. Gratefully, she leant into his embrace, marvelling at how close they all were despite the many difficulties that must have hampered them. Had this been any other family, she would not have felt so comfortable in a cousin's embrace, but then, this was Will. He needed the comfort as much as she did during this long, heart-breaking wait.
The hours ticked away, and slowly Marin fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. The room grew infinitely quieter as each tried to hang onto the sound of her breathing, clutching to this last sign of the life that had not yet left her body. Outside the storm had died away, and they were aware of many people standing in the square, keeping their vigil with them. Marin had done so much for the people of this island, giving of herself time and time again, and she had earned their respect and trust. She would be sorely missed.
Voices filtered through to them, singing softly an old war song that swept through the little home like an icy breath. Those who had known Marin from a child were singing her to her rest in the way she had done for those of their number who had already passed on.
'I thought I heard the colonel crying
March, brave boys, there's no denying
Cannons roaring, drums a-beating
March, brave boys, there's no retreating
Love, farewell . . .'
A choked sound caught at their attention for a moment, and they turned to see Beth – strong, capable, big sister Beth – sobbing brokenly into James' jacket. The sight was a jolt to them all, for she had always been the one to hold them all together, never one to break in front of them. The pain was too much for her, as James held her close, knowing as he did so that it was Jack's place. But the old pirate would not take his eyes from his dying wife, though his face twisted in pain at hearing one of his children in tears.
'Will you go or will you tarry?
Will you wait or will you marry?
Would this moment last forever
Kiss me now, and leave me never
Love, farewell . . .'
Perhaps it was as well that those waiting in the windy square could not see the faces of those who gathered about the bed, for each held it's own terrible sign of loss and longing. They all moved instinctively forward, to gather about their father and aunt where they sat on their mother's right and left. The children were held in arms, sleepy as their parents waited for the awful truth to come.
'If I should fall in far off battle
Cannons roar and rifles rattle
Thoughts fly homeward, words unspokenValiant hearts are oft times broken
Love, farewell . . .'
Laura glanced up at her friend's pale face, and felt the nasty jolt within her that she had been dreading for weeks. Slowly, she rose, leaning forward to touch Marin's cold skin, to check her breathing and her heart rate. She closed her eyes in defeat. Marin was gone. She looked over at Jack, and nodded once, watching his heart break slowly into a thousand pieces before her eyes.
But he had no chance for tears. Kit and Johnny were the first to reach him, wrapping comforting arms about his shoulders and waist, Kit's children asleep behind her on a chair. Lucy and Emma were moving to hold Beth, who for the first time let herself lean on her younger siblings. Ardell and Elias stood with James, making no move to comfort him, knowing as well as he did that he would not appreciate such an offer, but knowing that just to stand with him would give him the support that he needed.
Will and Laura backed away from the sorry scene, each heart-broken in their own way at the loss of their friend, but touched at the same time by the selflessness of her children as they moved to comfort one another and those who needed their touch. Jack would not have the chance to fold, surrounded by such enduring love as he was. They slipped quietly out of the hut, to inform the people gathered of what had come to pass, and to leave the little family to their grief.
They would need all the help they could get in the weeks to come, but for now, let them sorrow together. Such grief would be bitter and cold for a long time yet, but the warmth within each of them would not let it take over. For they were Sparrows, children of Jack and Marin, and even though they had lost the one who had bound them all together as they grew, their love for one another would keep them strong, for all the years to come.
So ends what began with a silver doubloon, through fair wind or foul, with sorrow and heartache, and the promise of greater things to come.
And since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise, and you should not
I'll gently rise, and I'll softly call
Goodnight, and joy be with you all . . .