And Sappho Smiled
Part The Second: In Which Father Dickinson Confuses The Gender Of Mr. Cotton's Parrot
"Sod off, Leonard," Cate snapped, before Jack even had the chance to reply. "There's no way in hell I'm wedding that eccentric, effeminate excuse for a pirate; I've always told myself that if ever I do marry, it wouldn't be to an insensitive prat. No offence, darling," she added at Jack's look.
"I am not an effeminate prat."
"And I never said you were," Cate pointed out before turning back to the horrified cleric. "Leonard, my dear and most mistrusted acquaintance… Oh, how can I possibly put this delicately?—Get stuffed." And then, to Jack: "I'm going to bed; you're welcome to follow, but I'd rather you didn't." And she left the two insulted gentlemen of fortune gaping in her wake and shamelessly drinking in her backside.
No wonder Sierra's not warmed to her, Jack thought to himself. She really can be a cold-hearted bitch. And then, aloud: "Well, dear Leonard, my bride-to-be has made her feelings clear; now, if you'll please excuse yourself, I have a number of amoral and libidinous affairs to attend to."
And he would have marched immediately after her, had he not been hit rather painfully over the head with a mop.
Unbeknownst to Jack, who was unconscious at the time, Father Dickinson, grinning rather wickedly, calmly untied the man's long sash, stealthily crept after Cate, who was in another part of the cabin sectioned off by a rather conspicuous wall, quietly opened the door, struck her also over the head with the mop, dragged her unconscious body to rest beside her future husband's, and tied the two together in an accurate but politically-incorrect portrayal of wedlock.
When this was done, Dickinson stood back, silently admiring his handiwork, his face falling on realising too late that both participants had to be conscious in order to participate in the marriage ceremony. Shrugging, the cleric looked out towards the dark window, and then around the cabin for something to keep himself occupied until one or both of the pirates awoke. His eyes fell on Jack's desk, on which was spread a large map of the entire world, and he clapped his hands together in delight; of course! He could attempt to pinpoint the exact coordinates of the Garden of Eden! That always took up a large amount of time.
Taking this as a sign from God that he was in fact working His Will, Father Dickinson pulled out the chair, settled himself comfortably into the seat, and, humming a hymn to himself, leaned forwards the better to pensively pore over the world as mankind knew it.
When Jack awoke, it was to the frustrated growling of Cate beside him—that, and the unfamiliar throbbing pain gracing his skull with its presence. He moaned, and attempted to reach up and rub his head, only to discover that he could not complete such a feat. He frowned at this, and rather reluctantly opened his eye to find that he was actually sitting up, his arms bound behind his back, leaning on another person's back.
"Morning, sunshine," he heard Cate say from some point behind his head. And then: "Have you ever considered losing weight? You're surprisingly heavy for your girlish frame."
Bitch, Jack couldn't help but think, before remembering that the more attractive Cate found a person, the more insulting she would become, so he decided to take it as a compliment whilst silently wondering if he was on the edge of converting her.
"What's happening?" he asked the woman, slowly shaking his head.
"Well, I assume that that bastard cleric Dickinson had knocked us both over the head with a powerful and possibly heavy weapon, thus rendering the both of us unconscious, tied us back to back like so, and had then sat down to hunt for the Garden of Eden."
Jack furrowed his brow at this. "The Garden of Eden?"
"Aye, the Garden of Eden," Cate confirmed with a heavy sigh. "I thought I knew the complete extent of religious fanaticism, but now that I've met Father Dickinson…"
"I'm having him flogged as soon as I'm out of these knots," Jack promised her.
"Oh no, please don't!" Cate protested suddenly. "Yes, he is annoying, yes, he is madder than a Bedlamite, and yes, his warped, twisted, and entirely interfering beliefs may be set in stone, but he's only trying to do what he thinks is right. And besides," she added, "tying up your captain for the express purpose of having him wed does not go against the Code nor your Articles."
Cate couldn't see it, what with their backs to one another and all, but Jack's face had fallen considerably at this.
"M—Marriage?" he asked, somewhat calmly. "That is what this is all about? He wants us to be bound for eternity in unholy matrimony?"
"Holy, I think you'll find," Cate corrected. "Marriage is a sacred and consecrated covenant—"
"Only when it's entered into willingly," Jack told her, and Cate's posture stiffened at this.
"Are you saying you don't want to marry me?" she asked, her voice misleadingly even.
"Ye—No! No no no no no, of course not," he assured her most convincingly. "I… I'm just… merely concerned as to whether I am worthy of your everlasting love and fidelity—"
"You don't want to be married to me at all, do you?" Cate asked, and Jack was surprised to discover that, beneath the anger, disbelief, and overall offence colouring her tone, she sounded hurt as well. Was she… in love with him? (Of course, he couldn't really blame her if she was; on average, three and half women fall in love with Jack Sparrow a day.)
"Of course I'm not!" Cate had snapped waspishly, sounding rather offended. "You're a man! It's completely unnatural for a woman to fall in love with a man."
Jack nodded in agreement, paused, replayed her words rather carefully, and frowned at the lacking logic of it all. Before he could question her further, however, the door of the cabin opened, and in strolled Father Dickinson, followed by a sleepy-eyed Mr. Cotton and his parrot.
"Ah," he exclaimed, sounding most delighted. "The bridegroom has at last awakened. I trust your rest has been peaceful and untroubled?"
Jack's eyes narrowed at the happily beaming priest. "Surprisingly so," he told Dickinson. "I dreamt that I had discovered the exact, exact bearings of the Garden of Eden."
Dickinson's smile was literally wiped off of his face at this; abandoning Mr. Cotton and the parrot by the door, he strolled swiftly towards the captain, grabbed him by the shirt, and demanded that he be given these dreamt up bearings. "For after all," he reasoned solemnly, "did God not grant David priceless knowledge through a dream?"
"I don't actually think so…" Jack confessed.
"Depends which David you're talking about though, doesn't it?" Cate had added rather coolly; she snarled when Dickinson scuttled to face her, and Jack was certain that she was attempting to bite him. Judging by the sudden yelp and stream of decidedly blasphemous curses that had then issued forth from the cleric, she had succeeded.
Jack hastily schooled his expression to one of great concern as Father Dickinson hobbled back to the captain, clutching his hand and whimpering. "She doesn't like to be poked, your future government-representative wife," he told Jack confidentially. "To ensure a happy future and your own general health and well-being, I strongly advise you to never poke your wife."
Jack just had to raise an eyebrow at this; he honestly couldn't think of any other way to respond, except for the meek, "Why are you, of all people, poking my wife?"
Cate let out a strangled cry of outrage. "I am not your wife!" she snapped most truculently.
"She's right, you know," Father Dickinson confirmed. "Technically, this government representative is merely your fiancée."
Jack furrowed his brow, wondering how Cate, of all people, could be working on behalf of the government; wasn't she an anarchist?
Cate, on the other hand, seemed to be calm enough to play Father Dickinson's belief to her advantage; he felt her body straighten against his spine, and heard her say coolly, "Mr. Leonard Dickinson, release us this instance, or I shall have to report this unorthodox and most distressing incident to my superiors, who I assure you are more than happy to double your current taxes."
Father Dickinson squeaked in fear whilst Jack's brow furrowed as he silently wondered whether members of the Church of England were liable to pay taxes in the first place. Apparently so.
"Bastards!" Dickinson cursed, waving his arms in an effeminate and offensively accurate impersonation of Jack's own flying limbs. "The government will use any excuse to rob us decent, honest, hard-working citizens of our coin!" And he spat onto the floorboards, much to Jack's disgust.
"Leonard, mate…" he tried, flashing the cleric his most charming smile, which had Dickinson crossing himself and muttering something in Latin that Jack was almost certain was grammatically-incorrect. "Listen; I've a sudden and brilliant idea that will render the three of us highly satisfied."
Father Dickinson had the good grace to look disgusted. "Dear God, I hope you're not propositioning me," he informed his captain, sounding most offended. "I may be the most attractive creature on this ship with a fashionable wig and impeccable dress sense, but that does not mean I am either easy or loose. And I certainly won't sell my favours for common coin." He paused, leaned a little closer, and added conspiratorially, "Unless, of course, the currency with which you plan to pay me for my troubles involves the salvation of my immortal soul and guaranteed entrance into the eternal paradise…"
Jack closed his eyes and leaned his head back to rest on Cate's golden skull with a sigh. "I wasn't talking of that sort of satisfaction, Father Dickinson," he informed the dirty-minded priest.
Father Dickinson paused, his eyes wide and glassy whilst the rest of his face remained oddly immobile. "…Oh," he said at last. "Yes, yes, of course; I mean, obviously, I would never dream… Never even consider… Shoe!"
Jack frowned at this. "Shoe?" he asked, whilst behind him he thought he heard Cate repress a snigger.
"Yes sir, shoe! That bird is doing something most indecent and unhygienic inside your shoe!"
"What!" Jack raged, noting that his feet were indeed bare. He attempted to turn around to see what the bird was doing, although he already had a slight and discomforting idea, but found that, thanks to his bindings and Cate's annoying reluctance to help, he merely squirmed most inelegantly on his own floorboards. The entire situation wasn't exactly what one would call dignifying.
"You!" he yelled on spotting the passive Mr. Cotton standing behind Father Dickinson. "Get that bloody bird of yours under control!"
The bird squawked and said something which sounded a lot like "I obey no man," followed by a long and lengthy criticism of the low standard of Jack's boots in terms of hygiene and why, for these reasons, the bird would rather wait until back on deck to relieve itself, which Jack supposed was slightly better than doing so within his own boot.
It was only then that Jack began to wonder what Mr. Cotton was doing in the cabin with Father Dickinson in the first place, and he frowned before voicing his query to Cate rather loudly in the hopes that Dickinson would answer; after what the bird had just tried to do, Jack wasn't really on speaking terms with the parrot.
And of course, Father Dickinson, predictable fool that he was, was more than happy to oblige.
"Why, Captain Sparrow!" he said, grinning at Jack in delight. "Surely you, with your unmatched intellect, would surely be well aware that a wedding needs witnesses to be considered valid! Of course," he continued whilst Jack began to choke, "we live in an age where the common law marriage which consists of the husband and wife simply claiming to take each other in wedlock is considered valid, hence why I decided to make do with a mute and a very pretty bird."
"The bird's not that pretty," Jack had muttered under his breath; the parrot heard this, fluffed out its chest, and squawked indignantly, and if you had been the bird, you would have done exactly the same thing.
"Mr. Dickinson," Cate spoke, her voice cold enough to freeze fire, "I always knew that you knew less about the workings of the Protestant church than the average cleric; however, I was under the impression that you knew enough to realise that a marriage entered into unwillingly is invalid in the eyes of both the church and the law."
"You talk too much," Jack told her sulkily; he wasn't able to think of anything worthy of his wit at that particular moment.
"Oh, shut up," Cate told him at the very same moment that Dickinson began, rather gloatingly, "On the contrary, Mrs. Sparrow, we live in an age where all a man and woman need do to be seen as wed in the eyes of both the law and church is claim to be married, preferably in front of witnesses. Surely you, a government representative, should know that."
"Ah, but even so, Father Dickinson, such arrangements require our consent," Jack pointed out smugly and rather condescendingly.
"Not," the cleric stressed, "if you've five witnesses to such an act."
"Five?" Cate asked.
"Of course five," Dickinson confirmed gleefully. "The bride and bridegroom, Mr. Cotton, myself, and Paulette."
Jack frowned. "Paulette?"
"The parrot," Cate filled in most helpfully.
"The parrot can't be a witness," Jack said slowly. "It's not even human."
Father Dickinson blinked his bleary eyes. "What's your point?" he asked of the captain. "The minimum requirement by law is two witnesses, and there are four others excluding Monsieur Paulette—"
"Madame, surely," Cate interrupted suddenly, and both the captain and the cleric turned (or in the captain's case, attempted to turn) to stare at her. The beautiful woman flushed under the scrutiny, but continued determinedly, "Paulette is a feminine name."
"That doesn't necessarily mean that it can't be given to a member of the masculine gender," Father Dickinson sniffed.
"Only my brother would give males feminine names and females masculine," Cate snapped testily. "Are you likening Mr. Cotton to my brother?"
"And what if I am?" Father Dickinson asked breezily. "Your brother, my dear, is an upstanding member of society, and a credit to the Protestant Church of England besides."
"No he's not, he's an effeminate bugger, and a Catholic one at that," she retorted tetchily.
"Trifles," Father Dickinson waved away, and Cate huffed in sweet indignation. If Jack could, he would have reached over and patted her hand in a comforting gesture; instead, he settled for leaning gently back so that his head was resting on her shoulder, and kissed what part of her skin his lips could reach.
It proved to be a most fatal mistake: Father Dickinson, upon seeing the affectionate gesture, was immediately reminded of his purpose on God's great green earth and, with an excited exclamation of "Aha!" started to shake his mop most elatedly.
"But returning to the ceremony," he began most imperiously, but was rudely interrupted by Jack. "Yes, my child?"
"We refuse to go through with these connubial proceedings," Jack said to the man.
There was a silence, and then, to everyone's surprise, Father Dickinson burst into tears, curling most piteously on the floor, his hands clinging tightly to his mop. Even Cate was moved by the wretched sight.
"Jack…" she said to him, hesitantly. "Jack, perhaps we should…"
Jack raised his eyebrows at this, silently daring her to continue before realising she was not in a position to see him. "Perhaps we should what?" he asked her authoritatively as they both watched the sobbing cleric, utterly transfixed by the abnormal sight.
"You know… To humour him?"
Jack found the entire idea utterly unnatural. "I can't just marry for him!" he exclaimed. "Not when I'm as sober as I am, and certainly not using my real name!"
The utter oddness of these last words brought a slight frown to her features. "You're married?" she asked, curious.
"…No…" Jack lied.
"Because, if you are already married, then surely that would render ours invalid," she told him indifferently.
There was a silence in which Leonard Dickinson continued to bawl and Jack's left arm decided to go numb; it was this last, more than anything, that convinced Jack to relent. Besides, he had suddenly remembered how, on one drunken night in Tortuga's Faithful Bride, he and a Mr. Joshamee Gibbs had struck a wager, the terms being that a certain Captain Jack Sparrow would be unable to wed a Sapphist within a year. Five guineas were at stake, and as Cate had pointed out, their union wouldn't be valid in the slightest. Gibbs would have forgotten all about the wager by now, but Jack certainly hadn't. And, considering how he could now very easily succeed, he felt as though it was high time he called in his debts. Five guineas was a substantial sum of money.
And he really needed to piss.
And so, with a heavy sigh, Captain Jack Sparrow consented to the nuptial ceremony.
"You appear to be very familiar with these proceedings," Cate accused half an hour later, when the last of the wedding party had left the bridal cabin. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"
"Do I detect a hint of jealously, dear Cate?" Jack teased, uncorking a bottle of rum as he spoke, and she scowled.
"Jack…"
Jack looked at her for a long moment, studying her face before offering the liquor to her, a generosity she politely declined.
"You're the first of my wives to bear the name of Sparrow," he admitted, and Cate seemed to choke as a result.
"Wives?" she echoed.
"Yes, wives; I've a dozen of those."
Cate simply gaped, and it wasn't surprising that she did so.
"I never married any of them using my real name, of course," Jack reassured his latest bride, smiling as though this was a great compliment.
"Well, that's just…" she sputtered. "What name did you use, then?"
Jack smirked, delighted that she would ask such a thing.
"Trueand Loyll," he told her offhandedly.
"Oh, God…" she uttered, clearly disbelieving. "And… none of them realise that that's not your real name?"
Jack frowned at the question, then shook his head. "No, I don't think so," he admitted cheerfully.
"But… But why would you do such an unnatural thing?" she asked, for it was true that marriage did not seem to be a typical pastime of Jack Sparrow's.
Jack hesitated. "Well, sometimes a man would rather not visit a whore…" he said, and Cate lost her control.
"You bastard!" she cried aloud, uncaring of who heard. "You utter bastard! Have you no respect for women?"
Jack decided that his moment of honesty had best be drawing to a close.
"So, tell me, Mrs. Sparrow," he said hurriedly as Cates's anger intensified. "With our wedding night so young—"
They were, unfortunately for Cate and extremely fortunately for Jack, interrupted by the reappearance of Father Dickinson, who had stumbled gracelessly in with his eyes covered by his hand. "Don't mind me," he told them as he tottered about the cabin, "I'm merely looking for my mop."
"Leonard," Cate said to the man, almost amiably, her anger at her husband momentarily curbed, "you can open your eyes; nothing of great interest or depravity is occurring as of this moment."
Father Dickinson slowly lowered his hand and hesitantly opened his eyes, staring as Cate handed the priest the mop.
"Why aren't the two of you in bed yet?" he asked the married couple, confused. "Marriages aren't truly validated until they've been consummated, you know."
"Oh believe me, Father Dickinson, I am trying," Jack hurried to assure the gentleman, and Cate merely glared at this comment.
"Out of interest, Leonard," she asked, disarmingly brushing down Father Dickinson's weathered coat, "if one or both of us wished to annul, for strange and unnatural reasons, our marriage, might it be possible that you would permit such an annulment to occur?"
Father Dickinson looked at her for a moment before bursting out laughing.
"'Tis only under one condition," he said when he had finished cackling, "and one condition alone, that I will allow such a travesty, this annulment of which you speak of, to occur, and that is only if I was to witness one—or the both of you—committing a most lewd and indecent act with an infernal succubus from the very depths of Hell itself, who has somehow smuggled her misleadingly beautiful self aboard this gay pirate ship using underhand means and the limitless affections of a sweetly pouting child."
And with this rather specific proclamation concluded, Father Dickinson had slammed the door of the marital cabin shut, leaving the reluctant newlyweds to contemplate their situation.
Jack and Cate merely looked at one another, understanding flashing between them like a lightning bolt. And then as one, they both said with utter conviction:
"Sierra."
TO BE CONTINUED
AN: Before Lord Hardwicke's Marriage Act of 1752, marriage amongst the poor was relatively easy to achieve, and rather questionable as a result. There really were records of soldiers and sailors coming into London, marrying a few girls, and then leaving them again; to quote Dr Johnson's London, by Liza Picard:
"Spelling in those days was somewhat flexible, and given names can be surprising, but even bearing both those factors in mind, one wonders whether Ann Taylor, who in 1749 married a sailor whose name is recorded as Trueand Loyll, ever saw him again after the consummation of the marriage."
To me, that name just had Jack Sparrow written all over it.
