The Christmas Guest (3/4)
Chapter 3: Close Calls
In the event, his dreams were decidedly unpleasant, at least the one that lingered at the edge of consciousness when he woke near dawn, aching abominably, and shivering with cold, in spite of the blankets tucked around him. He gave a soft groan of self-pity, and only then heard the sound of slippered feet coming across the room. He opened his eyes, just a crack, for the light of the single candle seemed particularly penetrating.
“Jack!” Elizabeth said softly, distressed. She put the candle on the nightstand, and sat close beside him, and put a chilly hand on his forehead.
He frowned. “You shouldn’t be here, ‘Liz’beth. I’m ill-worse than last night.”
“I can see that. Shall we not send for the doctor?”
“No!” he said, a frisson of panic running through him at the thought of being this helpless and this close in proximity to Norrington and the scaffold at Fort Charles. Good God, what had he been thinking to come here? But he subdued his fear and said, in a more controlled tone, “No, not yet. Likely I just need to rest a day or so. I’m sorry, Elizabeth.”
“Don’t be. I am glad you are here for me to coddle. Let me get the fire going again, and then I’ll see about tea. Unless you think you would rather sleep some more.”
“No. Wretched dreams, truly. A fire sounds nice. ‘s devilish cold.”
Elizabeth frowned, for the room was a little cool, the tropical storm still holding sway without, but it was not at all uncomfortable. She reached over and caught hold of a knitted throw that had lain across his feet, and wrapped it round his upper body, and around his head, saying, “I should have provided you with one of Father’s nightcaps, though truly I didn’t think you’d need it.”
“It’s this fever,” Jack murmured, quite enjoying Elizabeth’s close proximity in spite of his illness, particularly her faint, womanly scent (and a hint of roses again, was it?) and the lovely view afforded by the deep, lace-edged décolletage of her elegant dressing gown.
She sat back and looked at him, smiling at her handiwork.
Jack rolled his eyes a bit. “Don’t tell me: I look a right quiz.”
She chuckled, and rather to his surprise, she bent and kissed him on the forehead. Straightening, she said, “You do! I am quite enjoying having you at such a disadvantage. Now stay there and rest while I take care of things.”
He closed his eyes with a sigh as she rose and made herself busy with the fire. He had no difficulty following her orders, for although it was comforting listening to her bustle about, he had absolutely no desire to get out of bed himself. Keeping still was another matter, for he could not seem to help the odd twitch and restless movement inspired by the feverish aching. His very hair seemed to hurt! Presently he heard the door creak, and Mrs. Hathaway’s voice, addressing Elizabeth. He was aware of the two consulting in low tones, and then their voices seemed to fade.
He woke again when they returned later, with Peters. The three bullied him into drinking a medicinal tisane Mrs. Hathaway had concocted. Fortunately this was followed by sweetened tea with a touch of rum, and some crisp lightly buttered toast, and an egg. Whether it was the breakfast or the rum, or Mrs. Hathaway’s rather nasty brew, he began to feel a bit better, and drifted into a fitful doze for the rest of the morning.
Will came in at noon, and brought lunch: a mildly spiced chicken soup and good bread and butter, a weak rum punch, and more of the tisane. “Smells devilish!” Will commented, handing him the dish. “But they told me to make you drink it before giving you the rest.”
“It is devilish!” Jack said, groused. “Bloody, managing women. If I wasn’t afraid it was that that eased me aches this morning, I’d throw it in the fire!”
Will laughed.
After lunch, Jack fell into a deeper more restful sleep, and woke again only as the light was fading toward the evening. Elizabeth came in to check on him, beautifully dressed for dinner.
“Hullo, Lizzie,” he murmured, pleased to wake to this vision.
“Hullo, Jack!” she smiled, and sat beside him, her skirts rustling pleasantly. “You look a little better!”
“I am a bit better, I think,” he agreed, though he was not inclined to test this theory too hastily by moving. He did close his eyes as she put her hand against his forehead again.
“I believe your fever is down! Mrs. Hathaway’s remedy appears to be working.”
“I was afraid of that. What’s in it? No! Don’t tell me. Probably best I don’t know, if I’ve to drink any more of it.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, she is preparing another draught with her own hands as we speak! But there will be mulled wine, like you had last night, and some dinner-pigeon pie! Unless you feel that would be too heavy for you?”
“No! It sounds delicious!” He looked at her, suddenly serious. “You’ve all gone to a great deal of trouble for me. Not sure what to say to that, or how to thank you.”
Elizabeth’s eyes smiled, but she shook her head, pursing her lips. “Fie, Jack! These modest airs don’t suit you in the least! You know quite well you are worth any amount of trouble! Indeed, we all bask in the glow of your presence, which provides endless fodder for conversation! Mrs. Hathaway is quite smitten, and even Father has come ‘round to thinking it most amusing that he has such an interesting guest in his house for the holidays.”
“That right?” Jack chuckled. “And here I didn’t bring him a gift.”
“I daresay you can make it up to him some time,” Elizabeth smiled. “Indeed, I dearly wish you were free to come to Port Royal and visit us more often, and without worrying about being laid by the heels. It is most unfortunate that James is so very much the Slave of Duty.”
“Aye, it is. Thank God he don’t know I’m here! I’m in no state to be making sudden, daring escapes, even with Will’s help!”
The next day, Christmas Eve, Jack awoke well after dawn. The rain still persisted, but the aches and fever of the day before were blessedly absent. He felt weak as a kitten though, and lay in the luxurious bed very much savoring his current situation. Faint sounds of movement in other rooms came to his ears, and he noticed that his own fire had been lit: apparently someone had been to check on him earlier and had left him to wake in his own good time.
This consideration for his comfort, and the memory of the care and companionship he’d received the previous day--even the Governor had paid him a visit after dinner, and Jack had enjoyed a half hour of light flirtation with Mrs. Hathaway as well, with Elizabeth looking on, torn between laughter and disapproval--made him wonder at the good fortune that had brought him into the orbit of these good souls. Wicked as he was, he must have at least once done something spectacularly good to deserve this, though for the life of him he couldn’t recall the particulars of such an unusual event. Giving up such deep conjecture as a bad job, he gave a deep sigh of contentment and decided instead to simply devote himself to appreciating the result.
Cook had made a wonderful breakfast, and presently Elizabeth and Will both brought in the tray, and then stayed to visit with him while he picked at the ham, buttered eggs, toasted sweetbread, and sliced fruits they’d brought. He drank a good deal of sweetened tea, though he gently but firmly eschewed the Hathaway Tisane: “No, I’m much better this morning, really! Just a little tired…”
After breakfast and much desultory conversation, he was ready for another nap, and fell deeply asleep, listening to the patter of the rain against the windows.
It was mid-afternoon when he woke next, and he noticed some changes right away: the rain had finally stopped, or at least was light enough to be unnoticeable from within the house; and he felt stronger, though now other symptoms were manifesting, specifically a stuffy nose, and a slight but persistent cough. He was thirsty, and he needed something hot to drink: tea, or, even better, rum punch. Yes.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lain so long abed (uninjured, at least), and decided it might do him good to get up and go in search of the libation himself, rather than bothering the servants. His knees seemed a bit shaky as he got up, but he managed it and donned the ‘second-best dressing gown’ (a pleasingly gaudy affair) without difficulty, and there was even a pair of slippers by the bed. Feeling happy and just a little ridiculous in these borrowed clothes that were far too large for him, he left the room and padded down the hall. He met no one, but as he descended the stairs he thought he heard Elizabeth’s voice, coming from within the parlor, the door of which was at the foot of the stairs. Probably consulting with the housekeeper about Christmas Eve dinner, and preparations for tomorrow!
But it was not the housekeeper that met his startled gaze when he popped his head in, saying, “Lizzie! I…oh.” He broke off, and froze. It was bloody Norrington!
It was an awkward moment, no doubt of it. Jack couldn’t for the life of him help his widened eyes and slightly dropped jaw, and Elizabeth had the oddest look on her face, halfway between fear and chagrin, and she was coloring to the roots of her hair. Jack knew what it was: she’d been denying that there was even so much as a whiff of pirate in the best spare bedroom. And here he was, giving her the lie.
“Sparrow!” said Norrington, sounding amused. “How good of you to join us.”
The man was precise to a pin in his uniform, complete with Turner sword. He was taller than Jack remembered, but the cool green eyes and sardonic expression were all too familiar. Jack, feeling very much at a disadvantage dressed as he was in Swann’s nightwear, was momentarily bereft of speech, an almost unprecedented occurrence that he later insisted was doubtless due to his recent malady.
Norrington’s lip twitched. “I take it you’ve been ill?” he suggested, gesturing to Jack’s attire.
Jack found his voice, more or less. “Aye. I was.” He coughed slightly, illustrating the point.
“James!” Elizabeth began, but Norrington cut her off.
“Mrs. Turner, will you be so kind as to leave us for a few minutes,” Norrington said, coolly. “I wish to speak with Captain Sparrow in private, if I may. I’ll have another word with you, later, before I go.”
There was just a suggestion of a promise of a possibly unpleasant reckoning in his voice, and Elizabeth stiffened, and reddened even more. However, she said with tolerable composure, “Yes. Very well. Jack, I expect you and the Commodore would like refreshments. I’ll send tea in, directly.”
And my sword, too, if you please, Jack thought, as she walked past him and out the door. He glanced about the room for escape routes. It would be difficult, as ill as he had been and dressed as he was, but he’d squeezed out of tighter corners than this one and had no doubt he could do so again, if it came to that.
But the Commodore said evenly, “Close the door, if you please, and come take a seat, Captain Sparrow,” and gestured to the wing chairs by the fire.
Jack hesitated for just a moment before pulling the door shut, the latch making an ominous click. He then padded over the thick carpet and sat down, inwardly alert, outwardly calm.
Norrington took the chair opposite him, crossed one booted leg over the other, and tilted his head, considering Jack thoughtfully. “You do look different without your…er…accoutrements, Captain.”
“Aye, well, the Governor was kind enough to lend me his things, seein’ as I’d left me own on that little tub I came over on.” Jack tilted his chin slightly, uncomfortable in the extreme.
“Yes,” said Norrington. “I actually recognize the dressing gown. I believe it’s the same one I gave the Governor on his birthday a year ago.” The Commodore permitted himself to smile slightly at Jack’s stunned gaze.
“You bought him this?” Jack exclaimed, quite horrified to think Norrington had come to the Swann Estate only to find his sworn enemy parading about in the Governor’s birthday gift.
“Yes,” said Norrington. “But Lieutenant Gillette picked it out for me. I thought at the time that it was a bit…er…sudden for the Governor’s exacting tastes, but it seems to suit you quite admirably.”
“That’s not…I mean…um…thanks. I think.”
“Not at all. I must say, however, the bright colors make you look a trifle peaked. ”
Jack bridled. “You’d look a bit peaked yourself, in similar circumstances, mate.”
“No doubt,” agreed Norrington. “I trust you are on the road to recovery.”
“Yes. Thanks,” said Jack. He cleared his throat, then went on, in as honest a tone as he could conjure up. “Look, I came to give the Turners their Christmas gifts, and was took ill. They were kind enough to let me stay, and I’d be that upset if they were to find any trouble by it, if you get me meanin’.”
Norrington raised an eyebrow. “Should I construe that as a threat, Captain?”
Jack sighed. “Commodore, it’s me you’re after, not those children, nor the Gov’nor, neither. It was just kindness, was all. Christian charity!”
Norrington studied Jack for a long moment, and then said, “Have you not noticed I’ve not been ‘after’ you, either, of late, Captain?”
Jack stared. He said slowly, “I had noticed, actually.”
Norrington nodded. “The Black Pearl has been remarkably circumspect about the nationality of its victims during the last year. In fact, I seem to have heard of one instance where you and your crew rescued a number of unfortunates off the Queen Anne, which was set upon and sunk by some French corsairs.”
“Oh, aye. You heard about that, did you? Bad business that. Blastin’ the bejeezus out of ‘em even after they’d abandoned ship for the longboats. Unsportin’ of the Frenchies, to say the least. Had to take ‘em to task a bit for it.”
“Yes. I heard they got the bad end of that bargain. The Black Pearl was unscathed?”
“Aye. Nothin’ to that, though. She’s fair unbeatable, with a good crew, an’ me in command.”
Norrington smiled. “No false modesty, eh, Captain?”
“None,” Jack said, simply. “She’s mine. Always was. I was young, an’ a bit too trustin’ belike, when I captained her before. Barbossa took her then, and used her hard, but her heart was mine, an’ she was always waiting for me to get her back. An’ now I have ‘er, an’ I’ll go down with ‘er someday, maybe, but I won’t leave her again, nor let anyone take her.”
“And where is she now, Captain Sparrow?”
“Ah!” said Jack. “That’s for me to know, innit? Needed careenin’, so Gibbs is seein’ to it, over the holidays. But we’ll be back out in another few weeks, Commodore, headin’ out to the horizon.”
Norrington nodded. “And still staying clear of the English, no doubt.”
“Likely enough, aye,” said Jack. “Spanish and French make richer prizes.”
“They do,” agreed Norrington, “and as we are at war with those countries at present, I have a proposition to present to you, Captain.”
Jack stared. “You mean…”
“A Letter of Marque,” Norrington affirmed. “I think, if you consider, you will see that it would be of great advantage to you and your crew. And it would make it so much easier for me to turn a blind eye to today’s meeting, as well as easing the way for future visits to Port Royal.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?” said Jack, slowly. Lord! To think of being able to come right up to the docks here, and to visit any time they had a mind! “If you’re serious, I’ll think about it, and I’ll have to speak with me crew. But I think they might like the idea. They’re good men. ‘Cept for Ana, of course. But good pirates, all.”
“Good pirates,” Norrington repeated. “There was a time, not so long since, when such a phrase would have seemed an oxymoron. I have you to thank for my enlightenment, I think.”
“Happy to oblige, Commodore,” smiled Jack. “And may I extend my thanks and that of my crew for the ‘one day’s head start’.”
“You heard about that at the wedding, I gather.” Norrington nodded.
Jack stared again. “You knew I was there?”
“Oh, yes. I was pleased to find that my trust in your good behavior was justified. You were a model of gentlemanly decorum.”
Jack looked thoroughly disconcerted, and said with some belligerence, “Well, it was Lizzie an’ Will’s wedding! Could hardly cut loose and be myself at a function as insipid an’ la-di-dah as that! You’ll just have to come on a little voyage with us on the Pearl some time, eh? Then you’ll see the real Captain Sparrow!”
Norrington looked rather intrigued. “I shall very much look forward to it, Captain. Very much, indeed!”
On to Chapter Four...
~.~
In the event, his dreams were decidedly unpleasant, at least the one that lingered at the edge of consciousness when he woke near dawn, aching abominably, and shivering with cold, in spite of the blankets tucked around him. He gave a soft groan of self-pity, and only then heard the sound of slippered feet coming across the room. He opened his eyes, just a crack, for the light of the single candle seemed particularly penetrating.
“Jack!” Elizabeth said softly, distressed. She put the candle on the nightstand, and sat close beside him, and put a chilly hand on his forehead.
He frowned. “You shouldn’t be here, ‘Liz’beth. I’m ill-worse than last night.”
“I can see that. Shall we not send for the doctor?”
“No!” he said, a frisson of panic running through him at the thought of being this helpless and this close in proximity to Norrington and the scaffold at Fort Charles. Good God, what had he been thinking to come here? But he subdued his fear and said, in a more controlled tone, “No, not yet. Likely I just need to rest a day or so. I’m sorry, Elizabeth.”
“Don’t be. I am glad you are here for me to coddle. Let me get the fire going again, and then I’ll see about tea. Unless you think you would rather sleep some more.”
“No. Wretched dreams, truly. A fire sounds nice. ‘s devilish cold.”
Elizabeth frowned, for the room was a little cool, the tropical storm still holding sway without, but it was not at all uncomfortable. She reached over and caught hold of a knitted throw that had lain across his feet, and wrapped it round his upper body, and around his head, saying, “I should have provided you with one of Father’s nightcaps, though truly I didn’t think you’d need it.”
“It’s this fever,” Jack murmured, quite enjoying Elizabeth’s close proximity in spite of his illness, particularly her faint, womanly scent (and a hint of roses again, was it?) and the lovely view afforded by the deep, lace-edged décolletage of her elegant dressing gown.
She sat back and looked at him, smiling at her handiwork.
Jack rolled his eyes a bit. “Don’t tell me: I look a right quiz.”
She chuckled, and rather to his surprise, she bent and kissed him on the forehead. Straightening, she said, “You do! I am quite enjoying having you at such a disadvantage. Now stay there and rest while I take care of things.”
He closed his eyes with a sigh as she rose and made herself busy with the fire. He had no difficulty following her orders, for although it was comforting listening to her bustle about, he had absolutely no desire to get out of bed himself. Keeping still was another matter, for he could not seem to help the odd twitch and restless movement inspired by the feverish aching. His very hair seemed to hurt! Presently he heard the door creak, and Mrs. Hathaway’s voice, addressing Elizabeth. He was aware of the two consulting in low tones, and then their voices seemed to fade.
He woke again when they returned later, with Peters. The three bullied him into drinking a medicinal tisane Mrs. Hathaway had concocted. Fortunately this was followed by sweetened tea with a touch of rum, and some crisp lightly buttered toast, and an egg. Whether it was the breakfast or the rum, or Mrs. Hathaway’s rather nasty brew, he began to feel a bit better, and drifted into a fitful doze for the rest of the morning.
Will came in at noon, and brought lunch: a mildly spiced chicken soup and good bread and butter, a weak rum punch, and more of the tisane. “Smells devilish!” Will commented, handing him the dish. “But they told me to make you drink it before giving you the rest.”
“It is devilish!” Jack said, groused. “Bloody, managing women. If I wasn’t afraid it was that that eased me aches this morning, I’d throw it in the fire!”
Will laughed.
After lunch, Jack fell into a deeper more restful sleep, and woke again only as the light was fading toward the evening. Elizabeth came in to check on him, beautifully dressed for dinner.
“Hullo, Lizzie,” he murmured, pleased to wake to this vision.
“Hullo, Jack!” she smiled, and sat beside him, her skirts rustling pleasantly. “You look a little better!”
“I am a bit better, I think,” he agreed, though he was not inclined to test this theory too hastily by moving. He did close his eyes as she put her hand against his forehead again.
“I believe your fever is down! Mrs. Hathaway’s remedy appears to be working.”
“I was afraid of that. What’s in it? No! Don’t tell me. Probably best I don’t know, if I’ve to drink any more of it.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, she is preparing another draught with her own hands as we speak! But there will be mulled wine, like you had last night, and some dinner-pigeon pie! Unless you feel that would be too heavy for you?”
“No! It sounds delicious!” He looked at her, suddenly serious. “You’ve all gone to a great deal of trouble for me. Not sure what to say to that, or how to thank you.”
Elizabeth’s eyes smiled, but she shook her head, pursing her lips. “Fie, Jack! These modest airs don’t suit you in the least! You know quite well you are worth any amount of trouble! Indeed, we all bask in the glow of your presence, which provides endless fodder for conversation! Mrs. Hathaway is quite smitten, and even Father has come ‘round to thinking it most amusing that he has such an interesting guest in his house for the holidays.”
“That right?” Jack chuckled. “And here I didn’t bring him a gift.”
“I daresay you can make it up to him some time,” Elizabeth smiled. “Indeed, I dearly wish you were free to come to Port Royal and visit us more often, and without worrying about being laid by the heels. It is most unfortunate that James is so very much the Slave of Duty.”
“Aye, it is. Thank God he don’t know I’m here! I’m in no state to be making sudden, daring escapes, even with Will’s help!”
The next day, Christmas Eve, Jack awoke well after dawn. The rain still persisted, but the aches and fever of the day before were blessedly absent. He felt weak as a kitten though, and lay in the luxurious bed very much savoring his current situation. Faint sounds of movement in other rooms came to his ears, and he noticed that his own fire had been lit: apparently someone had been to check on him earlier and had left him to wake in his own good time.
This consideration for his comfort, and the memory of the care and companionship he’d received the previous day--even the Governor had paid him a visit after dinner, and Jack had enjoyed a half hour of light flirtation with Mrs. Hathaway as well, with Elizabeth looking on, torn between laughter and disapproval--made him wonder at the good fortune that had brought him into the orbit of these good souls. Wicked as he was, he must have at least once done something spectacularly good to deserve this, though for the life of him he couldn’t recall the particulars of such an unusual event. Giving up such deep conjecture as a bad job, he gave a deep sigh of contentment and decided instead to simply devote himself to appreciating the result.
Cook had made a wonderful breakfast, and presently Elizabeth and Will both brought in the tray, and then stayed to visit with him while he picked at the ham, buttered eggs, toasted sweetbread, and sliced fruits they’d brought. He drank a good deal of sweetened tea, though he gently but firmly eschewed the Hathaway Tisane: “No, I’m much better this morning, really! Just a little tired…”
After breakfast and much desultory conversation, he was ready for another nap, and fell deeply asleep, listening to the patter of the rain against the windows.
It was mid-afternoon when he woke next, and he noticed some changes right away: the rain had finally stopped, or at least was light enough to be unnoticeable from within the house; and he felt stronger, though now other symptoms were manifesting, specifically a stuffy nose, and a slight but persistent cough. He was thirsty, and he needed something hot to drink: tea, or, even better, rum punch. Yes.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lain so long abed (uninjured, at least), and decided it might do him good to get up and go in search of the libation himself, rather than bothering the servants. His knees seemed a bit shaky as he got up, but he managed it and donned the ‘second-best dressing gown’ (a pleasingly gaudy affair) without difficulty, and there was even a pair of slippers by the bed. Feeling happy and just a little ridiculous in these borrowed clothes that were far too large for him, he left the room and padded down the hall. He met no one, but as he descended the stairs he thought he heard Elizabeth’s voice, coming from within the parlor, the door of which was at the foot of the stairs. Probably consulting with the housekeeper about Christmas Eve dinner, and preparations for tomorrow!
But it was not the housekeeper that met his startled gaze when he popped his head in, saying, “Lizzie! I…oh.” He broke off, and froze. It was bloody Norrington!
It was an awkward moment, no doubt of it. Jack couldn’t for the life of him help his widened eyes and slightly dropped jaw, and Elizabeth had the oddest look on her face, halfway between fear and chagrin, and she was coloring to the roots of her hair. Jack knew what it was: she’d been denying that there was even so much as a whiff of pirate in the best spare bedroom. And here he was, giving her the lie.
“Sparrow!” said Norrington, sounding amused. “How good of you to join us.”
The man was precise to a pin in his uniform, complete with Turner sword. He was taller than Jack remembered, but the cool green eyes and sardonic expression were all too familiar. Jack, feeling very much at a disadvantage dressed as he was in Swann’s nightwear, was momentarily bereft of speech, an almost unprecedented occurrence that he later insisted was doubtless due to his recent malady.
Norrington’s lip twitched. “I take it you’ve been ill?” he suggested, gesturing to Jack’s attire.
Jack found his voice, more or less. “Aye. I was.” He coughed slightly, illustrating the point.
“James!” Elizabeth began, but Norrington cut her off.
“Mrs. Turner, will you be so kind as to leave us for a few minutes,” Norrington said, coolly. “I wish to speak with Captain Sparrow in private, if I may. I’ll have another word with you, later, before I go.”
There was just a suggestion of a promise of a possibly unpleasant reckoning in his voice, and Elizabeth stiffened, and reddened even more. However, she said with tolerable composure, “Yes. Very well. Jack, I expect you and the Commodore would like refreshments. I’ll send tea in, directly.”
And my sword, too, if you please, Jack thought, as she walked past him and out the door. He glanced about the room for escape routes. It would be difficult, as ill as he had been and dressed as he was, but he’d squeezed out of tighter corners than this one and had no doubt he could do so again, if it came to that.
But the Commodore said evenly, “Close the door, if you please, and come take a seat, Captain Sparrow,” and gestured to the wing chairs by the fire.
Jack hesitated for just a moment before pulling the door shut, the latch making an ominous click. He then padded over the thick carpet and sat down, inwardly alert, outwardly calm.
Norrington took the chair opposite him, crossed one booted leg over the other, and tilted his head, considering Jack thoughtfully. “You do look different without your…er…accoutrements, Captain.”
“Aye, well, the Governor was kind enough to lend me his things, seein’ as I’d left me own on that little tub I came over on.” Jack tilted his chin slightly, uncomfortable in the extreme.
“Yes,” said Norrington. “I actually recognize the dressing gown. I believe it’s the same one I gave the Governor on his birthday a year ago.” The Commodore permitted himself to smile slightly at Jack’s stunned gaze.
“You bought him this?” Jack exclaimed, quite horrified to think Norrington had come to the Swann Estate only to find his sworn enemy parading about in the Governor’s birthday gift.
“Yes,” said Norrington. “But Lieutenant Gillette picked it out for me. I thought at the time that it was a bit…er…sudden for the Governor’s exacting tastes, but it seems to suit you quite admirably.”
“That’s not…I mean…um…thanks. I think.”
“Not at all. I must say, however, the bright colors make you look a trifle peaked. ”
Jack bridled. “You’d look a bit peaked yourself, in similar circumstances, mate.”
“No doubt,” agreed Norrington. “I trust you are on the road to recovery.”
“Yes. Thanks,” said Jack. He cleared his throat, then went on, in as honest a tone as he could conjure up. “Look, I came to give the Turners their Christmas gifts, and was took ill. They were kind enough to let me stay, and I’d be that upset if they were to find any trouble by it, if you get me meanin’.”
Norrington raised an eyebrow. “Should I construe that as a threat, Captain?”
Jack sighed. “Commodore, it’s me you’re after, not those children, nor the Gov’nor, neither. It was just kindness, was all. Christian charity!”
Norrington studied Jack for a long moment, and then said, “Have you not noticed I’ve not been ‘after’ you, either, of late, Captain?”
Jack stared. He said slowly, “I had noticed, actually.”
Norrington nodded. “The Black Pearl has been remarkably circumspect about the nationality of its victims during the last year. In fact, I seem to have heard of one instance where you and your crew rescued a number of unfortunates off the Queen Anne, which was set upon and sunk by some French corsairs.”
“Oh, aye. You heard about that, did you? Bad business that. Blastin’ the bejeezus out of ‘em even after they’d abandoned ship for the longboats. Unsportin’ of the Frenchies, to say the least. Had to take ‘em to task a bit for it.”
“Yes. I heard they got the bad end of that bargain. The Black Pearl was unscathed?”
“Aye. Nothin’ to that, though. She’s fair unbeatable, with a good crew, an’ me in command.”
Norrington smiled. “No false modesty, eh, Captain?”
“None,” Jack said, simply. “She’s mine. Always was. I was young, an’ a bit too trustin’ belike, when I captained her before. Barbossa took her then, and used her hard, but her heart was mine, an’ she was always waiting for me to get her back. An’ now I have ‘er, an’ I’ll go down with ‘er someday, maybe, but I won’t leave her again, nor let anyone take her.”
“And where is she now, Captain Sparrow?”
“Ah!” said Jack. “That’s for me to know, innit? Needed careenin’, so Gibbs is seein’ to it, over the holidays. But we’ll be back out in another few weeks, Commodore, headin’ out to the horizon.”
Norrington nodded. “And still staying clear of the English, no doubt.”
“Likely enough, aye,” said Jack. “Spanish and French make richer prizes.”
“They do,” agreed Norrington, “and as we are at war with those countries at present, I have a proposition to present to you, Captain.”
Jack stared. “You mean…”
“A Letter of Marque,” Norrington affirmed. “I think, if you consider, you will see that it would be of great advantage to you and your crew. And it would make it so much easier for me to turn a blind eye to today’s meeting, as well as easing the way for future visits to Port Royal.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?” said Jack, slowly. Lord! To think of being able to come right up to the docks here, and to visit any time they had a mind! “If you’re serious, I’ll think about it, and I’ll have to speak with me crew. But I think they might like the idea. They’re good men. ‘Cept for Ana, of course. But good pirates, all.”
“Good pirates,” Norrington repeated. “There was a time, not so long since, when such a phrase would have seemed an oxymoron. I have you to thank for my enlightenment, I think.”
“Happy to oblige, Commodore,” smiled Jack. “And may I extend my thanks and that of my crew for the ‘one day’s head start’.”
“You heard about that at the wedding, I gather.” Norrington nodded.
Jack stared again. “You knew I was there?”
“Oh, yes. I was pleased to find that my trust in your good behavior was justified. You were a model of gentlemanly decorum.”
Jack looked thoroughly disconcerted, and said with some belligerence, “Well, it was Lizzie an’ Will’s wedding! Could hardly cut loose and be myself at a function as insipid an’ la-di-dah as that! You’ll just have to come on a little voyage with us on the Pearl some time, eh? Then you’ll see the real Captain Sparrow!”
Norrington looked rather intrigued. “I shall very much look forward to it, Captain. Very much, indeed!”
On to Chapter Four...
~.~