The Oldest Story in the Book.
Chapter 14
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's note: Sorry this has taken so long. This summer is crazy. I'm working three jobs and one isn't paid. I'll get you updates when I can, and you'll have to be happy with that. Sorry.
I've had a few questions about Jack not knowing Ethan's name last chapter. My thought was that Jack knew Norrington had a child, he was simply indifferent enough that he didn't know his name. Or was pretending to be at that moment.
Four Years Later
Norrington scanned the horizon telling himself once again that he wasn't looking for the dark hulking shape of a pirate ship. Despite the looks Will and Elizabeth had given him when he told them about this plan, he was insistent that he had not boarded this well-stocked merchant vessel bound for the northern island (where most reports of the Black Pearl's attacks came from) in an effort to see either Pearl or his daughter.
It had been two years since he had seen the precocious Emmie Sparrow. She had visited only twice in the four years she had been sailing with her mother and grandfather. Not that Norrington was so bad off. Ethan was growing into quite the gentleman. He wanted to be a sailor, spending long hours down at the docks listening to the sailor's tails and picking up what wisdom he could. The scruffy boy had started attending balls and wearing suit jackets, taking on a more proper turn of phase. He was becoming a gentleman and everything his father could hope for. But then why did Edward find himself longing to know how his daughter was?
Time, he decided. Any man would worry if he hadn't seen his daughter in two years, especially when she was out on a pirate ship with Jack and Pearl Sparrow. Especially if she had taken on the Sparrow name herself.
But that wasn't why he was here. The ship needed an escort, and he hadn't been out on a true voyage in a while. That was all. He didn't want to be attacked, certainly not by pirates, certainly not by the Black Pearl.
With a sigh he turned away from the prow. It had been a week now with nothing but calm waters to be seen. Maybe he should talk to the Captain again. He could--
His thoughts were interrupted as his feet slid out from underneath him, landing hard on his back. He groaned as he listened to the hiss of suppressed laughter from the crew. "Careful, just scrubbed that," he heard. Turning his head he found a member of the regular crew on his hands and knees, scrubbing away.
Brushing at his coat he frowned at the man. This particular man seemed to be forever underfoot. The day before he had spilt a bucket of grimy water over his boots. The day before that a noose-tied rope had dropped from the sails, this man whistling and staring innocently out to sea as he sat among the billows above him.
There was something faintly familiar about this man. He was a fairly young sailor, thirty perhaps although his smooth face made him seem younger. His red hair was nearly too short to remain caught back from a very round, almost feminine face. He had wide, open eyes, high cheek bones, and lips rather softer and plumper than a man's had any right to be. He had to be a favorite among the crew, although Norrington quickly pushed that idea out of his head. He had always ignored his men's night activities with a passion.
The most prominent thing of all about this man, however, were the tattoos that covered his face and neck, disappearing into the neck of his shirt the man kept constantly buttoned high even as his crew mates attacked the Caribbean heat stripped to the waist. The tattoos were thin black lines that swirled across the skin in bizarre designs that seemed to change before your eyes. Most likely they were tribal markings of some sort, although the tanned skin still seemed too light to carry even deluded African blood. Aztec, perhaps, although he didn't really carry the look for that either.
As he stood Norrington glared down at the sailor. The man looked up and winked one caramel eye.
Norrington's heart stopped, and suddenly he found himself on his back again. The men laughed aloud this time, but he hardly heard it. He crawled quickly forward. "Pearl?" he whispered.
"A week I've been under your nose and you only just figured that out?" the woman asked, voice higher than any other time he had spoken to her that week. "I sure am glad our daughter inherited her intelligence from me."
"What are you doing here?" he asked in the same hushed tones.
"Not here," she whispered back. "The men will get suspicious. Get huffy and order me to your cabin if you want a discussion."
He nodded once before climbing to his feet. "All right, sailor, that's the last straw! My cabin, now!" With that he turned and marched to the stairs.
"Moody little thing today, isn't he?" he heard Pearl ask one of the crew in her scruffy man's voice as she passed. The sailor chuckled as he led her inside and slammed the door behind him.
Pearl moved across the room as if she owned it, plopping into a chair and hanging a leg over the arm, swiveling her head to look around the room. "Ack!" she cried, pointing to the picture of the queen on the wall. "The bloody crone is back!"
"Have a little respect," Norrington ordered. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Her eyes grew wide and she sat staring at him. "What?!" he demanded, exasperated.
"You said 'bloody'," she replied. "You cursed. Oh, Edward. I'd say I was rubbing off on you but I've been behaving myself." At a look from him she added, "Mostly."
"Pearl, should I be arming the cannons and setting a look out for a large black ship?"
"No, no. I've been on this ship a week and nothing horrible has befallen us. I needed a break. Jack's been insufferable lately. And I got to thinking that if anything happened to the Black Pearl it would be nice if I had a pseudonym and a reputation as a good sailor to go with it. This is just a vacation for me."
He nodded absently. It didn't make much sense to him, but what she said seldom did. "Are those tattoos real?" he asked, eying the markings.
"Why? You like them?" she asked.
"Not particularly. They're interesting but I don't see why you'd need the additional adornment. Plus they could make it difficult for 'Bethany Maltrey' to walk the streets."
She chuckled. "Indeed it would. No, they aren't real. Special ink. Nikko did it for me. Aztec tribal markings or something. Some of these people know what Pearl Sparrow looks like. Can't have people knowing who I am."
He poured himself a drink offered it to Pearl as an afterthought. She shook her head. "So how have you, you know?" he asked, motioning toward her flat chest.
"Special corset," she answered, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. "Someday I have hope that I will know what it feels like to breath again, damn thing. How are Ethan and Maggie? Probably not just thrilled about you coming out here, are they?"
"No, but I dare say they'll live. They're both well. Ethan wants to be a sailor."
"You know, there's always a place for him on the Black Pearl."
Norrington snorted. "Over my dead body."
"Never say never," Pearl warned. "He'd probably be safer on the Black Pearl than anywhere else."
"Speaking of which, how is Emmie?"
"Oh, grand," Pearl said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "She's thrilled. Really taken to the life. Chipper and energetic. Gets along wonderfully with her grandfather. Peas in a pod, those two. A bit scary when the gang up on me, but then I imagine Jack feels the same way when she sides with me." She stood, brushing herself off. "I suppose that's long enough for you to have properly chastised me. Listen, just act like normal out there. Treat me like any other member of the crew."
"You mean you aren't going to chase me around?" he asked with mock surprise.
"You're married, Edward. What's more, I'm rather fond of your wife. I'll leave well enough alone."
He shook his head as he followed her into the bright Caribbean sun, wiping the smile off his face.
"You learned your lesson?" one of the soldiers mocked.
"He thinks so," she said with a grin and a wink he blithely ignored.
He went back to the helm, scanning the waters again. For some reason he didn't feel any better about the situation, although he did feel safer with Pearl onboard. If they were attacked he was fairly certain she would keep him from being accidently wounded if she could help it.
It seemed his worries were well placed. After an hour of his meandering a call was suddenly raised from the lookout. "Ship off the port!" the man cried.
"Where?!" the Captain demanded as he moved to the port rail and pulled out his spy glass.
"Dead ahead, Sir," he answered.
Norrington pulled out his own spy glass to look at the rapidly approaching ship. "It's moving fast," the Captain remarked. "Not a terribly large ship."
Norrington nodded his agreement. Both signs of a pirate ship that had picked up the scent of a good payoff. He looked around for Pearl, and found her on the outer edge of the main sail, holding a rope to steady herself as her other hand shaded her eyes from the glare. Suspicion rose in him as she looked down onto the deck and made a quick, jerking motion with her hand. Several of the regular crew who had been looking up suddenly began to move as if arranging themselves, mostly around military personal.
"Captain, how well do you know your regular crew?" he asked the man, worry boiling in his belly.
The captain shrugged. "They came well enough recommended. Why?"
"Just a bad feeling is all," he told the man, turning back to the approaching ship.
The captain's eyes narrowed. "Is it just me, Commodore, or do those sails look black to you?"
He put his glass back to his eye and nodded thoughtfully, then turned to find a sword pointed directly at his throat, a grinning member of the regular crew on the other side.
"OI! If I can have your attention please!" Pearl called suddenly, standing on the elevated box before the wheel. A rope in her hand testified to her quick descent from the sails. "Those of you that don't know what this is about, especially those of you in pretty red coats, kindly stand still and the nearest sword-or gun-wielding pirate will be glad to divest you of your weapons. If no one resists no one will get hurt. I dislike heroes. This is a good, old-fashioned takeover."
Author's Note: For the record, Pearl didn't lie. She really was there to do all of those things too. So I'll get the next chapter up ASAP.
Chapter 14
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's note: Sorry this has taken so long. This summer is crazy. I'm working three jobs and one isn't paid. I'll get you updates when I can, and you'll have to be happy with that. Sorry.
I've had a few questions about Jack not knowing Ethan's name last chapter. My thought was that Jack knew Norrington had a child, he was simply indifferent enough that he didn't know his name. Or was pretending to be at that moment.
Four Years Later
Norrington scanned the horizon telling himself once again that he wasn't looking for the dark hulking shape of a pirate ship. Despite the looks Will and Elizabeth had given him when he told them about this plan, he was insistent that he had not boarded this well-stocked merchant vessel bound for the northern island (where most reports of the Black Pearl's attacks came from) in an effort to see either Pearl or his daughter.
It had been two years since he had seen the precocious Emmie Sparrow. She had visited only twice in the four years she had been sailing with her mother and grandfather. Not that Norrington was so bad off. Ethan was growing into quite the gentleman. He wanted to be a sailor, spending long hours down at the docks listening to the sailor's tails and picking up what wisdom he could. The scruffy boy had started attending balls and wearing suit jackets, taking on a more proper turn of phase. He was becoming a gentleman and everything his father could hope for. But then why did Edward find himself longing to know how his daughter was?
Time, he decided. Any man would worry if he hadn't seen his daughter in two years, especially when she was out on a pirate ship with Jack and Pearl Sparrow. Especially if she had taken on the Sparrow name herself.
But that wasn't why he was here. The ship needed an escort, and he hadn't been out on a true voyage in a while. That was all. He didn't want to be attacked, certainly not by pirates, certainly not by the Black Pearl.
With a sigh he turned away from the prow. It had been a week now with nothing but calm waters to be seen. Maybe he should talk to the Captain again. He could--
His thoughts were interrupted as his feet slid out from underneath him, landing hard on his back. He groaned as he listened to the hiss of suppressed laughter from the crew. "Careful, just scrubbed that," he heard. Turning his head he found a member of the regular crew on his hands and knees, scrubbing away.
Brushing at his coat he frowned at the man. This particular man seemed to be forever underfoot. The day before he had spilt a bucket of grimy water over his boots. The day before that a noose-tied rope had dropped from the sails, this man whistling and staring innocently out to sea as he sat among the billows above him.
There was something faintly familiar about this man. He was a fairly young sailor, thirty perhaps although his smooth face made him seem younger. His red hair was nearly too short to remain caught back from a very round, almost feminine face. He had wide, open eyes, high cheek bones, and lips rather softer and plumper than a man's had any right to be. He had to be a favorite among the crew, although Norrington quickly pushed that idea out of his head. He had always ignored his men's night activities with a passion.
The most prominent thing of all about this man, however, were the tattoos that covered his face and neck, disappearing into the neck of his shirt the man kept constantly buttoned high even as his crew mates attacked the Caribbean heat stripped to the waist. The tattoos were thin black lines that swirled across the skin in bizarre designs that seemed to change before your eyes. Most likely they were tribal markings of some sort, although the tanned skin still seemed too light to carry even deluded African blood. Aztec, perhaps, although he didn't really carry the look for that either.
As he stood Norrington glared down at the sailor. The man looked up and winked one caramel eye.
Norrington's heart stopped, and suddenly he found himself on his back again. The men laughed aloud this time, but he hardly heard it. He crawled quickly forward. "Pearl?" he whispered.
"A week I've been under your nose and you only just figured that out?" the woman asked, voice higher than any other time he had spoken to her that week. "I sure am glad our daughter inherited her intelligence from me."
"What are you doing here?" he asked in the same hushed tones.
"Not here," she whispered back. "The men will get suspicious. Get huffy and order me to your cabin if you want a discussion."
He nodded once before climbing to his feet. "All right, sailor, that's the last straw! My cabin, now!" With that he turned and marched to the stairs.
"Moody little thing today, isn't he?" he heard Pearl ask one of the crew in her scruffy man's voice as she passed. The sailor chuckled as he led her inside and slammed the door behind him.
Pearl moved across the room as if she owned it, plopping into a chair and hanging a leg over the arm, swiveling her head to look around the room. "Ack!" she cried, pointing to the picture of the queen on the wall. "The bloody crone is back!"
"Have a little respect," Norrington ordered. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Her eyes grew wide and she sat staring at him. "What?!" he demanded, exasperated.
"You said 'bloody'," she replied. "You cursed. Oh, Edward. I'd say I was rubbing off on you but I've been behaving myself." At a look from him she added, "Mostly."
"Pearl, should I be arming the cannons and setting a look out for a large black ship?"
"No, no. I've been on this ship a week and nothing horrible has befallen us. I needed a break. Jack's been insufferable lately. And I got to thinking that if anything happened to the Black Pearl it would be nice if I had a pseudonym and a reputation as a good sailor to go with it. This is just a vacation for me."
He nodded absently. It didn't make much sense to him, but what she said seldom did. "Are those tattoos real?" he asked, eying the markings.
"Why? You like them?" she asked.
"Not particularly. They're interesting but I don't see why you'd need the additional adornment. Plus they could make it difficult for 'Bethany Maltrey' to walk the streets."
She chuckled. "Indeed it would. No, they aren't real. Special ink. Nikko did it for me. Aztec tribal markings or something. Some of these people know what Pearl Sparrow looks like. Can't have people knowing who I am."
He poured himself a drink offered it to Pearl as an afterthought. She shook her head. "So how have you, you know?" he asked, motioning toward her flat chest.
"Special corset," she answered, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. "Someday I have hope that I will know what it feels like to breath again, damn thing. How are Ethan and Maggie? Probably not just thrilled about you coming out here, are they?"
"No, but I dare say they'll live. They're both well. Ethan wants to be a sailor."
"You know, there's always a place for him on the Black Pearl."
Norrington snorted. "Over my dead body."
"Never say never," Pearl warned. "He'd probably be safer on the Black Pearl than anywhere else."
"Speaking of which, how is Emmie?"
"Oh, grand," Pearl said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "She's thrilled. Really taken to the life. Chipper and energetic. Gets along wonderfully with her grandfather. Peas in a pod, those two. A bit scary when the gang up on me, but then I imagine Jack feels the same way when she sides with me." She stood, brushing herself off. "I suppose that's long enough for you to have properly chastised me. Listen, just act like normal out there. Treat me like any other member of the crew."
"You mean you aren't going to chase me around?" he asked with mock surprise.
"You're married, Edward. What's more, I'm rather fond of your wife. I'll leave well enough alone."
He shook his head as he followed her into the bright Caribbean sun, wiping the smile off his face.
"You learned your lesson?" one of the soldiers mocked.
"He thinks so," she said with a grin and a wink he blithely ignored.
He went back to the helm, scanning the waters again. For some reason he didn't feel any better about the situation, although he did feel safer with Pearl onboard. If they were attacked he was fairly certain she would keep him from being accidently wounded if she could help it.
It seemed his worries were well placed. After an hour of his meandering a call was suddenly raised from the lookout. "Ship off the port!" the man cried.
"Where?!" the Captain demanded as he moved to the port rail and pulled out his spy glass.
"Dead ahead, Sir," he answered.
Norrington pulled out his own spy glass to look at the rapidly approaching ship. "It's moving fast," the Captain remarked. "Not a terribly large ship."
Norrington nodded his agreement. Both signs of a pirate ship that had picked up the scent of a good payoff. He looked around for Pearl, and found her on the outer edge of the main sail, holding a rope to steady herself as her other hand shaded her eyes from the glare. Suspicion rose in him as she looked down onto the deck and made a quick, jerking motion with her hand. Several of the regular crew who had been looking up suddenly began to move as if arranging themselves, mostly around military personal.
"Captain, how well do you know your regular crew?" he asked the man, worry boiling in his belly.
The captain shrugged. "They came well enough recommended. Why?"
"Just a bad feeling is all," he told the man, turning back to the approaching ship.
The captain's eyes narrowed. "Is it just me, Commodore, or do those sails look black to you?"
He put his glass back to his eye and nodded thoughtfully, then turned to find a sword pointed directly at his throat, a grinning member of the regular crew on the other side.
"OI! If I can have your attention please!" Pearl called suddenly, standing on the elevated box before the wheel. A rope in her hand testified to her quick descent from the sails. "Those of you that don't know what this is about, especially those of you in pretty red coats, kindly stand still and the nearest sword-or gun-wielding pirate will be glad to divest you of your weapons. If no one resists no one will get hurt. I dislike heroes. This is a good, old-fashioned takeover."
Author's Note: For the record, Pearl didn't lie. She really was there to do all of those things too. So I'll get the next chapter up ASAP.