Chapter 7: The Last Man Laughing
Once in the open air Elizabeth fled to the forecastle, tucked herself in a ball in a corner, and wept. She had not even cried so hard in Port Royal when Will left her, and her comfortable life was snatched away. Now, she felt as though she had truly lost everything that could ever be of importance. The man she loved hated her now, and she wanted to die.
The keening coming from the front of the ship unnerved a great many of the men, and they all looked to their Captain in wide-eyed bewilderment. Jack thought he might know a bit more of what ailed the lass. He in fact had noticed the girl and ol' Norry curled up like—peas in a pod—at their table in the Faithful Bryde, whispering to each other like conspirators in a romantic play. Jack had been a bit amused that the Commodore finally got his girl, and more than a little dismayed. He himself had had more than a thought or two about the Governor's daughter the past year, even though Will swore up and down that she had escaped to England to marry herself into safety from the hangman's noose.
Jack made his way to the forecastle, kneeling down before Elizabeth.
"Love, I know you've had a rough go of it, but you are scaring the men. They're leery enough of having a woman on board as it is. No sense makin' em think we've a banshee on deck, eh dearie?"
Elizabeth sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She was not a pretty crier, but she was honest, Jack would hand her that. "Oh Jack, this is terrible. I love him and now he hates me! He thinks I betrayed him again," she choked out between hiccupping sobs. "He's already lost so much. You have to tell him, Jack. You have to tell him that we were not conspiring together. Please, please tell him." She broke down in sobs again, and whatever else was said was lost in the howling gale of her sorrow.
"Alright, love, alright." Jack helped her to her feet, and reluctantly she followed. It hardly registered that he led her into his cabin, urging her to sit in the throne-like chair before his chart table. "I think you need a drink, eh?" He went to a cabinet from whence he produced a bottle of rather fine brandy, and poured her a snifter. "Here, drink up," he said, swirling the glass and setting it in front of her. "Let's let him cool down a bit. Then ol' Jack will have a chat with the former Commodore. Don't you worry your pretty lil' head. Everything will be right as rain on the morrow, hmm?"
Elizabeth nodded, but could not stop crying, curling up in the large chair.
Jack made a face, feeling quite inept to deal with a female weeping at this magnitude.
"Well…" He rummaged around again, finding a scarf that was mostly clean. "Here, love."
She took the proffered fabric, blowing her nose in it messily.
Jack promptly fled.
XXX
A few hours later Jack descended into the brig, a lantern in tow. Norrington watched the pirate Captain's approach with a baleful gaze, glaring green daggers at Jack.
"Come to taunt me some more, Sparrow?" he drawled, doing his best to sound bored while really he felt as though he'd taken a cutlass to the gut. Had Sparrow elected to execute him right then he believed he would have welcomed the respite. All he could really think about was Elizabeth, and the pain was excruciating.
"That's Captain Sparrow. And, actually I've a different mission, as it were." Sparrow plunked down on the stool, peering through the bars at Norrington. "You look bloody awful, mate."
James rolled his eyes. "A different mission?" he prompted, attempting to keep the pirate on track. His lackadaisical deportment was all an act, James was certain. A ploy to lead the unsuspecting to believe Jack was not calculating at full speed at all times. Well, James knew better than to underestimate Jack Sparrow now. He'd learned that lesson the hardest way possible.
"Ah, yes. Well, you've got a right upset lassie topside, former Commodore. Ye said some nasty things that I think ye probably didn't mean, and were I to let you out of this cell I hope you would apologize to her toute suite. She's been crying for hours on end and she's spooking the men."
A long silence passed between them, which was finally broken by James' bitter laughter. "You honestly expect me to believe that? To what end, I cannot imagine, but I am done playing your fool. I am certain she is coddled in Turner's arms as we speak."
Jack raised an eyebrow, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. "Turner? You should see the shiner she gave 'im! He's licking his wounds as far away from the she-devil 'as he can get on this ship." This was delivered with a gold-glinting grin. "And the only deal I've made with your dolly-belle is that she will help me find a very important chest that I need for exceptionally dire personal reasons, and in return I will help you procure a vessel so that you may pirate your black little hearts out across the Caribbean. And as that deal expressly includes you as in the somewhat confusing English plural the two of you, I believe it's safe to say you are still her beau du jour. She loves you, you lucky bastard, so why don't you lighten up a bit, eh?"
James' heart felt as though it were being torn in two. He wanted to believe Sparrow. He wanted to believe him with every fiber of his being, but he was instinctively wary of doing so, for obvious reasons.
Then he realized she had not told Jack about the letters. Jack thought they wanted to be pirates, not privateers. Who would of course be charged with the duty to hunt pirates…and therefore Sparrow would be reluctant to help them in their quest. This was something that James found astonishing, and the fact that inspired the slightest inkling of hope that Jack and Elizabeth told the truth after all.
His eyes trailed to Sparrow's brand. "Is it true what you told her about that brand?"
Jack's expression changed from amused to nothing in a second flat. James had never seen this man appear so solemn, not even when he'd faced the noose in Port Royal. "Aye, tis true," he said quietly.
James sighed, looking down at the slimy decking below him. "I lost eight hundred and thirty nine men chasing after you." Their faces, the memory of their terror in the storm, played through his mind, and James shut his eyes tight in an attempt to block out the memory. Only madness lay down that road.
There was a long silence, before Jack finally answered in a surprisingly sincere tone, "M'sorry bout what happened to your pretty boat and all your men. A right shame, that. But I do not believe I made you follow me into that storm, mate."
"Believe me, I am well aware the blame is completely on my shoulders. It is a weight I will carry with me for the remainder of my days."
"Aye, I'm sure you will. But you know, ye have two options before you. Stew in your misery and plot to kill me in some sorry attempt to avenge all their deaths, and then my crew will kill you and not in no pretty way neither. Or… ye could make nice with that lovely slip of a girl up there," Jack pointed topside emphatically, "And enjoy a rather appealing second chance at life, eh? Wouldn't have to extend the offer my way twice…"
James scowled at Sparrow's thinly veiled approval of Elizabeth's…desirability.
He trusted Sparrow only as far as he could throw the man, and maybe not even that.
And yet the truth was, he wanted a life with Elizabeth, possibly more than anything in the world. He was not a man who had ever compromised before, but maybe it was not too late to learn a new trick.
XXX
When at last James surfaced from the hold the sunlight topside was almost blinding. He blinked hard, fighting to regain his vision. When it finally cleared his eyes were immediately drawn to Elizabeth standing at the gunwale, her shoulders slumped as she stared out over the glittering blue water.
Jack clapped him on the back with what in Norrington's opinion was an obnoxious grin, pushing him a little in Elizabeth's direction. James shrugged off Sparrow's less than subtle hint with a glare. However, his ire faded as he neared closer to Miss Swann, quickly replaced by regret.
"Elizabeth?" She turned to face him, surprise written across her features. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and yet still her beauty hit him like a punch to the chest. Would he ever become used to this girl? Somehow he rather doubted it. "Please allow me to apologize for my abhorrent behavior. I—"
She launched herself across the small space between them and into his arms, holding on to him as though he were the last piece of floating flotsam in a storm. Before he could utter another word she pressed her mouth to his, and he felt himself melt against the gentle onslaught of her lips. When the kiss broke they regarded each other from only inches away, noses nearly touching. "It's alright, James," she assured him.
"But I—"
"I probably would have felt the same, in your shoes. But please tell me you see that I am with you?"
James stood quietly, his hands upon her waist. He had not expected this tempest of a girl to forgive him so easily. Maybe she really did love him.
How novel.
"I do," he assured her. Maybe he did not trust Sparrow one jot, but Elizabeth was pardoned in his eyes.
And so they stood together at the railing, looking out at the sea with fingers firmly clasped together. Out the corner of his eye James watched her lips curl in a small, contented smile, and his heart felt as though it might explode.
Of course, it could not last for long.
In time the pair of dunces Pintel and Ragetti approached carrying a pail and scrub brush. "Beggin' your pardon, former Commodore, but the Captain says you're to get to work." They giggled together for a moment, until James fixed them with a hard stare that he'd once used to send upstart midshipmen scrambling back to their posts.
The one called Pintel gave a sheepish yellow-toothed smile, and pointed up at the quarterdeck at their Captain. Sparrow offered an insufferable grin that was almost blinding in the sunlight, and made a waving gesture with his fingers, shooing James off to his new duties aboard the Pearl.
For a moment Elizabeth thought James might throttle Pintle and Ragetti both, then perhaps Jack as well. "A ship," she reminded him, squeezing his fingers in hers.
James sighed, remembering himself. "A ship," he answered, kissing her on the cheek before taking the proffered pail of water. By the stench of it James wasn't exactly sure what would be the bloody point.
"I'll help you," She offered, reaching for the brush. But a voice rang down from the quarterdeck, interrupting them. "Lizzy darlin', come help me check this heading, eh?" Jack called, a glint in his eye as he noticed the former Commodore stiffen again for the familiarity he paid her.
A ship, James reminded himself. A ship, and Letters, and then they would just see who was the last man laughing.
With an apologetic smile Elizabeth pressed his arm and went to join Jack up on the quarterdeck, and James followed the merry idiots to swab the decks.