Harry & the Pirate III: Norrington's Choice
* * *
The storm turned out to be quite as bad as Jack prophesied, and by nightfall of that first day, Harry was very thankful that he had been there with his uncannily accurate warning, and to help organize preparations. He seemed to know exactly what to do, and how quickly it must be done, and the folk of the island (and his own crew, of course) followed his orders with little question. Even Harry ceased to argue with him, for there was enough for everyone to do, in the beginning, and by evening, when everything had been readied as much as possible and the wind and rain had been joined by lightning and rolling thunder, she was very tired indeed and was content to sit curled beside him by the little fire in the library.
The library was located at the west side of the house, which Jack declared would be the safest place to stay that night. It was a large room, thickly carpeted and comfortably furnished, and they augmented the furnishings with pillows and blankets brought down from the bedrooms upstairs. Harry and Jack, the Hollidays, Rachel and several housemaids, Anamaria and Judah, Alphonse and Owens, and all five Lightfoots were there. Giles and his sons had come over from the Northtown settlement to join Miriam and Lily in the comparative safety of Island House.
The other Northtown residents, as well as nearly the entire population of the eastern side of the island, had also come to the plantation compound, and were waiting out the storm in the safety of the workshop, the enormous stone building that housed, among other things, the forge and storage room which had played so prominent a part in Harry and Jack's first adventure on St. Claire. All evidence of the evil Lucius Cray had long since been eradicated, and the island residents and members of the Black Pearl's crew that had taken shelter there were exceedingly grateful to have such a large, sturdy, and well-equipped place in which to wait out the storm. Anatole, with help from Harry and Lady Margaret, had prepared excellent provisions for the evacuees, and, with the addition of liberal quantities of Rachel's rum punch for the adults, the atmosphere within the great building soon turned festive. Musical instruments were brought forth, and singing and story telling began, and continued far into the night, to the delight of the children who were allowed to stay up as late as they wished, and considered the whole affair a very exciting and unusual adventure. The wind might be howling without, the rain coming down harder and harder, and the thunder crashing with furious regularity, but the thick stone walls of the workshop muffled the sounds of the storm so much that they did little to dampen the spirits of those within.
In Island House itself, activity was more subdued. The windows of the house had all been boarded, but the wind and rain rose in intensity throughout the evening, and poor little Julietta was very unhappy when the thunder began. The other children hid their fear more effectively, but when the gusting wind began to make the library fire smoke, forcing them to extinguish its comforting presence, even Charles Holliday grew quiet, and sat closer to his mother and her friends.
Conversation was difficult due to the noise of the storm, but everyone took comfort in being together, and there was an added entertainment in the form of a mother cat and six kittens that Suzanna Holliday and Lillian Lightfoot had rescued and brought in from the stable earlier in the day. The kittens could not yet be separated from their mother, but were just old enough to be curious about their surroundings, and there was much laughter over their antics, and enjoyment in holding and petting the tiny things. At last, though, the kittens grew tired, and as they curled into a warm pile against their mother in the box that had been provided for them, the human occupants in the room settled in for the night as well.
It was about four in the morning and everyone was dozing fitfully when an enormous and terrifying crash sounded, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. Jack lit the lantern and he, Judah and Giles Lightfoot went to investigate. Presently they returned, announcing that one of the beautiful trees at the east side of the house had completely toppled over, damaging the siding and breaking completely through one of the boarded up windows in the drawing room.
"We've moved the carpet and furniture out of the way, but we'll have to wait 'til light to do more," said Giles on their return.
"My harpsichord!" exclaimed Harry. "Was it damaged?"
"No," said Jack. "We've moved it across the hall. It'll be safe enough."
"That was the first thing to be rescued," Giles commented. "Jack insisted on it."
"Very proper," said Harry, greatly approving.
Everyone was up when it grew light enough to see, and Rachel arranged breakfast for the group. Jack ventured out and went over to the workshop to see how everyone was faring there.
"They're better off than we are," he said when he returned, soaked to the skin. "Anatole's laid in enough food for an army and it looks like they had a party last night!"
"If this storm lasts much longer I'll be tempted to join 'em!" Anamaria said, bored with being cooped up in the house. "Judah and I can make sure things don't get out of hand."
The storm raged all through the day and most of the next night. Anamaria and Judah did not leave Island House, however, for after he'd put on dry clothes and eaten, Jack began to tell the children stories to keep them entertained, and the other adults followed suit. The noise of the storm had continued so long it seemed to fade into the background, and they grew used to using louder voices as they told their tales. No more trees fell, at least near the house, and everyone ate, slept, listened to stories, or played with the kittens as the mood struck them.
Twenty-four hours after the tree had fallen, the silence woke Jack and Harry together. They wrapped themselves in blankets, and went out to look at the stars, shining down from between wisps of cloud. The fallen tree was visible at the side of the house, and the courtyard was littered with debris. The storm was finally over.
It had, however, left a great swath of destruction in its wake. At first light, the residents emerged and began to assess the damage. It would have been much worse, had it not been for the preparations made two days before, but it was bad enough and there was hard work in store for everyone.
* * *
One night about two weeks after the storm, Jack announced that he would be taking the Black Pearl to Tortuga in a day or two, to see how that notorious town had fared, and to finally offload and sell the swag he and the crew had collected over the last two months. Most of the heavier damage from the storm had been cleaned up, although it would be some weeks before everything was back in order.
He said to Lady Margaret and Rachel, "I'll have to rely on you ladies to keep an eye on me wife. She tends to want to overdo, as you both likely have noticed."
"I do not!" exclaimed Harry, petulantly.
"You do," said Jack, glaring at her. "You were up at dawn again today, and didn't take a nap, either. Did you?"
"Harry, Jack is right!" said Margaret, and her lips quivered against a smile as her friend looked daggers at her. "You need to take care of yourself-you would not want to risk either your own health, or that of your Young Sparrow."
"No," Harry agreed, "and truly, I would not put either of us at risk! But I feel well! Very well!"
"You've been doing too much," Jack said, stubbornly. "Hasn't she Rachel?"
"Maybe a little," Rachel conceded. "But I've seen many a woman with energy enough and to spare, right up to the birth. But don't you worry, Captain, we'll take good care of her."
Jack did not leave until the second day after this discussion, for somehow their slight disagreement resulted in a night of passion that left both Harry and himself in need of additional rest the next day. They did not emerge from their bedroom until the late afternoon, and then endured the amused glances of their friends with easy-going indifference. Jack confided to Rachel that at least now he knew Harry was well rested before his departure.
* * *
At dinner that evening, Michael Owens and Charles Holliday were both fidgeting with an air of suppressed excitement that finally penetrated even Jack and Harry's abstraction.
"What the devil's ailing you, lad?" Jack demanded of his Cabin Boy.
"Captain…can Charles go with us to Tortuga? He wants to meet Tom and Robbie, and go fishing and see the sights, and…"
"Tortuga!" exclaimed Lady Margaret. "Is that not the terrible place where the Bride's Auction was held?"
"It's not a terrible place!" exclaimed Owens, and then flushed and mumbled, "Sorry!" when Jack gave him a warning glance.
Jack said, "Aye, that's the place. An' it's terrible, sure enough, but only some of it. Owens visits the sons of an old friend of mine, the Widow McGee. She owns one of the better inns-caters to the quality, such as come to Tortuga."
"Please may I go, Mama?" Charles begged. "I'll be fine! And you and Lady Harry can have a nice visit without you worrying about me being underfoot!"
Lady Margaret laughed, and Harry chuckled too, not only at this ingenious argument, but at Jack's grimace.
Lady Margaret said, "I'm not sure we should impose on Captain Sparrow's good nature in such a manner. Perhaps he doesn't want an additional charge."
"But I wouldn't be any trouble!" Charles objected.
"I'd keep an eye on him," Owens assured Jack. "I'm older, after all!"
"Older!" said Jack, scornfully. "By what? Six months? And considering the trouble you two managed to get into during those few days on the Pearl-well, the thought of lettin' the two o' you loose together in Tortuga fair curls me liver!"
* * *
In the end, however, Jack gave in to the boys' entreaties. It was against his better judgement, and he was quite sure their promises of good behavior would go by the wayside as soon as they were out of sight of St. Claire; but on the other hand, Harry and Lady Margaret would have an easier, more restful time of it while they were gone, and Jack was willing to sacrifice a bit of his sanity to provide that for his darling and her friend.
Actually, young Charles didn't quite break loose from the dictates of propriety and common sense until the Isle de Tortue hove into sight. As the Black Pearl slid into the bay, Jack watched the boys' excited expressions with more and more misgiving, and after the ship slid into a vacant berth and had been tied off he took them down to his cabin and read them a serious lecture on the conduct expected of young boys left to Captain Jack Sparrow's charge. They nodded vigorously, agreeing with everything he said, and as he let them depart and watched them fairly leaping down the gangplank and the dock and onto the waterfront, headed toward the Widow's Inn and the McGee boys, Jack commented to Gibbs that he didn't know why he'd bothered.
"Lay you odds they're in trouble before the night's out," Gibbs said.
"No," said Jack. "By supper, at the latest."
He was right. And as the days passed, and he went about trying to conduct his business while half his brain was occupied with worrying about what the 'whelps' were 'getting up to now', he realised he'd never had such a dreadful visit to the pirate haven. It was certainly a far cry from the days when his only concerns were finding the best grog and the warmest bed in town. Not that he missed the bedding part: it'd be foolish to try to return to that when he'd been enveloped in Harry's love and passion these many months. But to be there, and not be free to relax and have a drink or two (or three, or more) without being called on to rescue the young varmints from the consequences of their own foolishness made him want to grind his teeth and punch walls-or at least howl at the moon a bit.
Owens, Charles Holliday, and the McGee Brothers, on the other hand, were having a spectacularly good time, at least for the first few days. Owens tried at first to be the voice of wisdom in the group, but soon gave it up, for Charles's joy and enthusiasm for kicking up larks was quite contagious and tended to override any of Jack's lectures and scolding. Charles, whose life had been quite circumscribed until now, was ready to break loose in any direction, and the McGee Brothers were his willing acolytes. Owens's love for Jack kept him more cognizant of the effects of their mischief, but even that was not enough to stop him enjoying the fun and antics of his friends.
And so, as the days passed, the pranks grew more serious, until finally, on their fourth day in Tortuga, Jack's charges found themselves hauled up before their Captain, who fixed them both with a baleful eye, to the amusement of the few crewmembers who had the watch and were aboard to witness the contretemps.
Owens's chagrin and penitence were evident, but Charles appeared to look on their mutual deviltry as a series of grand adventures. Jack was furious.
He addressed them both in an acid growl, " Well, you've had the Adventure of the Purloined Cakes, and the Adventure of the Forbidden Tavern, and topped it off with the Adventure of the Burning Carriage House. So now, you misbegotten whelps, you can have the adventure of polishing the Pearl's brightwork for the next three days! And if I hear a word of fussin' outta either one o' you, you'll both be havin' the adventure of the Captain thrashin' your backsides! Savvy?"
Even Charles could see that Jack was deadly serious, and, glancing at the expression on his friend's face, he swallowed hard and said in a rather unsteady voice, "Aye, Captain!"
However, in spite of the dire threat, by the end of that first day Charles found it very difficult to refrain from "fussin'". The work, though not difficult, was hot and very tedious, and his hands were entirely unused to such labor. He kept silent then, but toward noon of the second day he made the mistake of complaining to Owens and was surprised and angry when his mild-mannered friend turned on him, telling him to "Shut up you bloody get, it's all your fault anyway!" This was, in fact, a little unfair, for Owens had participated in and enjoyed the adventures nearly as much as any of the others, and Charles naturally took exception to the accusation. A fight ensued, their sparring progressing from verbal to physical in short order, and when Gibbs came to see what the row was about he found them trying, rather ineffectually, to murder each other. Gibbs forcibly separated them, shook them like a terrier with a couple of rats, and told them he'd thrash them himself if they didn't desist and get back to work immediately! They did, and when Jack came back from town some time later in the afternoon and saw them, and demanded to know just how Owens had managed to acquire a split lip and Charles a black eye, the boys were exceedingly grateful when Gibbs told Jack they'd just been 'playin' a bit rough' and there was naught to be concerned over. Jack eyed the two, narrowly, but said nothing more about it.
And, in the end, the Captain's wrath was mollified, and he was even moved to praise the work the boys had accomplished during the three days. Charles' hands were a mass of blisters, Owens's somewhat less so, but both of them were really very proud, for the Black Pearl's brightwork fairly glowed.
"All right," said Jack. "You can have these last two days off to visit some more with the McGee boys. But mind yourselves, whelps, or I'll have each o' you regrettin' the day you were born."
They took him at his word, and spent the final days of their visit employed in comparatively harmless pursuits, fishing and hiking and skipping stones, practicing their fencing with great enthusiasm, and commiserating with the McGee brothers, who had not only endured their mother's righteous fury and three days of mucking out chicken coops and pigpens, but her handy way with a switch as well. Owens knew, and Charles finally realized that they had been very fortunate indeed. Charles' only remaining concern was that Jack might feel the need to inform his mother about his misbehavior on their return to St. Claire, but Owens dismissed this notion with such scorn that his fears were allayed.
Indeed, there was little evidence of lingering disapprobation in the Captain's manner. The slight rift between the two young miscreants had healed too, far more quickly than the split lip and black eye, and Charles Holliday's friendship with Michael Owens was now cemented firm and fast. As the Black Pearl left the shelter of Tortuga Bay and headed into the open water, back toward Lady Harry's island, there were few happier boys in existence than the two that stood together at the stern of the great ship, watching the dolphins leap and play in its wake.
* * *
Several days later, Rachel came out of the house to shake out some dust cloths and saw Jack striding toward her across the wide courtyard from the direction of Pearl's Rest, alone. Her eyebrows rose, and she glanced briefly over her shoulder into the house, then just gave a slight, fatalistic shrug and turned to smile at him. "Captain!" she greeted him, with happy ease. "We didn't expect to see you today!"
His eyes glinted. "I'll wager ye didn't, from the look of you. Where's my lady?"
Rachel sighed. "She's up in your rooms, but don't you go gettin' upset with her now. She's feelin' fine, an' wanted to do a little straightening, but it turned into more work than she'd thought it would be."
"Bloody hell. Has she rested at all since I left?"
"Sure she has! Some."
"At night, in the wee hours, I suppose."
"Captain, Lady Margaret and I always try to get her to take a little nap after lunch, and she minds us most days. Truly!"
He gave a non-committal snort to this and strode into the house.
Rachel smiled crookedly and sighed.
Jack climbed the stairs silently, walked up the hallway to their bedroom and peeked in. There were mountains of clothing all over the divan and the chaise longue, and all their shoes and other accessories in ordered piles on the floor.
Harry herself, however, was in a most compromising position, and Jack smiled grimly. She was clad in some drawstring breeches and one of his own old linen shirts, and was down on her hands and knees with her head stuck under the bed, apparently sweeping at something with a brush or a broom. Quite irresistible. He shut the door silently.
As he approached on cat feet, she spoke. "Rachel! This wretched perfume bottle has rolled under the bed! If I can't reach it we'll have to get…OW!"
As she scuttled backwards he scolded, "And what did I tell you right before I left, my girl? More rest, less work, eh? And this is where I find you? Cleanin' under the bleedin' bed!"
But she pulled herself upright, swiftly if rather awkwardly, turned and attacked him with the broom, exclaiming, "You evil, evil man! Beating the wife of your bosom, who is even now heavy with your child!" He backed away, laughing, but she followed, thoroughly riled, her cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed. "For shame! You are a despicable knave! Only the lowest vermin would do such a thing!"
She punctuated the words with smacks from the broom, on his arm, his hip, his thigh, wherever she could reach; then she clipped his hand with it accidentally as he raised it to ward her off. Though it hadn't hurt much, he yelped as if it had, and she hesitated for a dismayed instant, as he'd known she would. It was enough. He grabbed the broom away from her, tossing it aside. As it clattered to the floor, several feet away, he caught her wrists.
"No!" she said, angrily.
"Yes!" he growled, eyes laughing, pinning her wrists behind her and holding them with one hand. "Not only disobeying a direct order, but stealin' me clothes as well!" He began to swiftly unbutton the shirt, ignoring her struggles.
"Stop that! I did not steal it! I borrowed it!"
"Borrowed or stolen, what's the difference? You should be dressed in your silks and lace, and reclining on the chaise over there, shouldn't you?"
"No, I shouldn't! I keep telling you: I'm not ill! I'm having a baby! I never felt better in my life. Let me go!"
He finished the last button and shoved the shirt off her shoulders, leaving her naked from the waist up. The humor faded from his gaze, replaced by something quite different as he drank in the sight of her. He cupped one perfect breast in his hand, brushing his thumb over her nipple.
She had stilled, with a little gasp, but said, resentfully, "You wicked, wicked man!"
"Wicked, is it?" He released her wrists and drew her against him, his fingers sliding over her bare skin.
"Yes," she said. She let the loose shirtsleeves slip off and put an arm about his waist, and pulled him down for a kiss with the other. He complied, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other slipping down the back of the loose breeches to caress her darling backside, smiling at her pleased murmur. The arm about his waist tightened. She moved her other hand between their bodies and began to fumble unhurriedly with the buttons on his own breeches. His breath caught, slightly. She moved her lips a fraction of an inch from his. "Did you lock the door?" she asked.
"No. The maids can get an eyeful if they like."
She kissed him again shaking with laughter, then said, again, "Wicked man!" and slid her hand inside the gap she'd unbuttoned.
* * *
It was a long while later when she again repeated the epithet, a sigh of sated pleasure this time, uttered just before drifting off to sleep. He lay a while, studying her face, his hand set softly against her rounded belly, alert to the occasional rippling movements of the baby. There were roses in her cheeks, from their lovemaking, but there were shadows under her eyes as well. Stubborn little fool! Perhaps her idea had not been such a bad one after all: maybe the only way to get her to rest would be to remove her from the plantation for a while. There was endless work begging for her attention on St. Claire, and, as the owner, she obviously felt a proprietary interest in overseeing everything, learning everything, and doing everything she could manage to do. If he took her to her brother's place, on the other hand…
Well, she'd want to give that ball to throw Lady Margaret and Norrington together. But, between the Governor's staff and the additional help of some of the Pearl's crew-he knew she'd want Anatole to oversee the dinner and refreshments, and Alphonse would be useful in a hundred different ways-she'd have only to give her orders. And he'd be there to see she kept to that, at least until the thing was over. And then there'd be naught for her to do but laze about in the gardens with Elizabeth and Lady Margaret, until it was time to return to St. Claire for her confinement.
And he supposed it wouldn't hurt to let her sink her claws into Norrington for a bit. A grim smile lifted the corner of Jack's mouth. Not that he wasn't a forgiving man. There had even been a touch of regret attached to the death of Barbossa, whose sin had been the ultimate betrayal and had taken Jack ten years of his life to set right. But certain of Jack's dealing's with the Commodore had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. Their first meeting, for example. Worst pirate he'd ever heard of! Ha! Arrogant bastard. As usual, Jack had landed on his feet out of that adventure, but the remark still rankled, even so. No, it wouldn't hurt Norrington to have a bit of a run-in with Harry and her schemes. And if it worked out, as Harry thought it might, he'd actually have done the man a good turn. Something of which Jack could remind him in future, if the occasion demanded it.
Jack finally slipped from Harry's embrace and the warmth of the bed, and tucked her up a bit. She burrowed deeper into the pillow, but showed no other sign of waking. Quietly, he got cleaned up, dressed, picked up the broom and, with a last fond glance at his slumbering wife, left the room, closing the door behind him.
As Jack came down, he saw Giles Lightfoot seated in the little settle that sat against the wall at the foot of the stairs. The man stood and smiled at Jack, a knowing light in his eye.
"Lightfoot!" said Jack, "Have you been waiting long?"
"Oh, a while. Rachel told me you'd gone up to greet Lady Harry, so I knew I'd best be patient if I wanted to see you. One must prioritize one's duties, after all."
Jack's eyes glinted. "Indeed. Found her upstairs cleaning out closets, after I'd told her to leave such things to the servants. Had to take her to task a bit for that."
"Ah! Is that what you were doing?" Lightfoot grinned.
Jack wondered if the man had heard more than Harry (or indeed he, himself) might have wanted. Jack looked half amused, half chagrinned. "Aye. Well. She seemed happy to see me."
Lightfoot nodded. "I well remember Mrs. Lightfoot being happy in just that way, when she was seven months along."
Jack lifted a brow. "Surprised me some," he admitted, in a quiet tone. "Considering a few months ago…"
"I know what you mean," said Giles. "It takes 'em that way, in the beginning. But after that…well, let's just say she's likely been missing your company a great deal when you're out on the Pearl."
"It seems so," Jack admitted. "I've just been thinking I need to spend a bit more time with her. She tries to do too much around here, and with that storm tearing the place up there's a lot to do. I'm going to take her to Port Royal, to stay with her brother for a bit. She's been wanting to take Lady Margaret there, too, and introduce her to everyone."
"Why our plans coincide, then!" exclaimed Giles. "I'm going to Jamaica myself, at the invitation of one Eustace Greene-has a fine plantation, and some new thoughts on the distilling of rum. I was just going to ask if you and Lady Harry would like to meet him, too!"
"As long as we get to sample some of his rum," said Jack. "It sounds a good notion. Although St. Claire rum is already among the best!"
Giles nodded. "It didn't get that way without being open to fresh ideas about distilling, though. This Greene has connections on the mainland too, in nearly every colony. He produces more than we do, and will likely continue to do so, as he uses slave labor, which we won't be, now. It costs more to make it, but our rum is a step above most, and I'm thinking we can market it as something rare and special, and make up the difference."
"Aye, I feel you're right. Port Royal it is, then. When do you go?"
"My boy, Davis, and I will leave day after next on the Bonny Lass. Greene suggested coming toward the end of the month."
Jack nodded. "I think we can be ready to leave the day after that easy enough."
"And likely give us the go-by in that ship of yours! She's fast, that one is."
"None faster, in these waters," smiled Jack, and he glanced out the doors, toward the path that led to Pearl's Rest, where the other love of his life lay. As he looked, Owens and Charles came into view, loping across the courtyard, followed by Gibbs and O'Brien. O'Brien stopped to speak with Rachel, but the boys bounded up the veranda steps and into the house and Jack put a finger to his lips and motioned them to silence. Gibbs grinned as he walked in behind the pair.
"Lady Harry asleep, Jack? That was fast work!" He winked at his Captain, and added, "The Pearl's tied off right snug, and we stowed everything and swabbed her down."
"Good. 'Cause we're leavin' in three days."
"Leaving?" exclaimed Gibbs and the two boys in dismayed chorus, for they had all looked forward to spending some time on St. Claire, now that the work of cleaning up after the storm had nearly been completed.
Jack chuckled. "Aye, you lazy dogs, we'll be off to Port Royal. Captain's wife's orders. Savvy?"
~.~
On to Chapter Seven
The storm turned out to be quite as bad as Jack prophesied, and by nightfall of that first day, Harry was very thankful that he had been there with his uncannily accurate warning, and to help organize preparations. He seemed to know exactly what to do, and how quickly it must be done, and the folk of the island (and his own crew, of course) followed his orders with little question. Even Harry ceased to argue with him, for there was enough for everyone to do, in the beginning, and by evening, when everything had been readied as much as possible and the wind and rain had been joined by lightning and rolling thunder, she was very tired indeed and was content to sit curled beside him by the little fire in the library.
The library was located at the west side of the house, which Jack declared would be the safest place to stay that night. It was a large room, thickly carpeted and comfortably furnished, and they augmented the furnishings with pillows and blankets brought down from the bedrooms upstairs. Harry and Jack, the Hollidays, Rachel and several housemaids, Anamaria and Judah, Alphonse and Owens, and all five Lightfoots were there. Giles and his sons had come over from the Northtown settlement to join Miriam and Lily in the comparative safety of Island House.
The other Northtown residents, as well as nearly the entire population of the eastern side of the island, had also come to the plantation compound, and were waiting out the storm in the safety of the workshop, the enormous stone building that housed, among other things, the forge and storage room which had played so prominent a part in Harry and Jack's first adventure on St. Claire. All evidence of the evil Lucius Cray had long since been eradicated, and the island residents and members of the Black Pearl's crew that had taken shelter there were exceedingly grateful to have such a large, sturdy, and well-equipped place in which to wait out the storm. Anatole, with help from Harry and Lady Margaret, had prepared excellent provisions for the evacuees, and, with the addition of liberal quantities of Rachel's rum punch for the adults, the atmosphere within the great building soon turned festive. Musical instruments were brought forth, and singing and story telling began, and continued far into the night, to the delight of the children who were allowed to stay up as late as they wished, and considered the whole affair a very exciting and unusual adventure. The wind might be howling without, the rain coming down harder and harder, and the thunder crashing with furious regularity, but the thick stone walls of the workshop muffled the sounds of the storm so much that they did little to dampen the spirits of those within.
In Island House itself, activity was more subdued. The windows of the house had all been boarded, but the wind and rain rose in intensity throughout the evening, and poor little Julietta was very unhappy when the thunder began. The other children hid their fear more effectively, but when the gusting wind began to make the library fire smoke, forcing them to extinguish its comforting presence, even Charles Holliday grew quiet, and sat closer to his mother and her friends.
Conversation was difficult due to the noise of the storm, but everyone took comfort in being together, and there was an added entertainment in the form of a mother cat and six kittens that Suzanna Holliday and Lillian Lightfoot had rescued and brought in from the stable earlier in the day. The kittens could not yet be separated from their mother, but were just old enough to be curious about their surroundings, and there was much laughter over their antics, and enjoyment in holding and petting the tiny things. At last, though, the kittens grew tired, and as they curled into a warm pile against their mother in the box that had been provided for them, the human occupants in the room settled in for the night as well.
It was about four in the morning and everyone was dozing fitfully when an enormous and terrifying crash sounded, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. Jack lit the lantern and he, Judah and Giles Lightfoot went to investigate. Presently they returned, announcing that one of the beautiful trees at the east side of the house had completely toppled over, damaging the siding and breaking completely through one of the boarded up windows in the drawing room.
"We've moved the carpet and furniture out of the way, but we'll have to wait 'til light to do more," said Giles on their return.
"My harpsichord!" exclaimed Harry. "Was it damaged?"
"No," said Jack. "We've moved it across the hall. It'll be safe enough."
"That was the first thing to be rescued," Giles commented. "Jack insisted on it."
"Very proper," said Harry, greatly approving.
Everyone was up when it grew light enough to see, and Rachel arranged breakfast for the group. Jack ventured out and went over to the workshop to see how everyone was faring there.
"They're better off than we are," he said when he returned, soaked to the skin. "Anatole's laid in enough food for an army and it looks like they had a party last night!"
"If this storm lasts much longer I'll be tempted to join 'em!" Anamaria said, bored with being cooped up in the house. "Judah and I can make sure things don't get out of hand."
The storm raged all through the day and most of the next night. Anamaria and Judah did not leave Island House, however, for after he'd put on dry clothes and eaten, Jack began to tell the children stories to keep them entertained, and the other adults followed suit. The noise of the storm had continued so long it seemed to fade into the background, and they grew used to using louder voices as they told their tales. No more trees fell, at least near the house, and everyone ate, slept, listened to stories, or played with the kittens as the mood struck them.
Twenty-four hours after the tree had fallen, the silence woke Jack and Harry together. They wrapped themselves in blankets, and went out to look at the stars, shining down from between wisps of cloud. The fallen tree was visible at the side of the house, and the courtyard was littered with debris. The storm was finally over.
It had, however, left a great swath of destruction in its wake. At first light, the residents emerged and began to assess the damage. It would have been much worse, had it not been for the preparations made two days before, but it was bad enough and there was hard work in store for everyone.
* * *
One night about two weeks after the storm, Jack announced that he would be taking the Black Pearl to Tortuga in a day or two, to see how that notorious town had fared, and to finally offload and sell the swag he and the crew had collected over the last two months. Most of the heavier damage from the storm had been cleaned up, although it would be some weeks before everything was back in order.
He said to Lady Margaret and Rachel, "I'll have to rely on you ladies to keep an eye on me wife. She tends to want to overdo, as you both likely have noticed."
"I do not!" exclaimed Harry, petulantly.
"You do," said Jack, glaring at her. "You were up at dawn again today, and didn't take a nap, either. Did you?"
"Harry, Jack is right!" said Margaret, and her lips quivered against a smile as her friend looked daggers at her. "You need to take care of yourself-you would not want to risk either your own health, or that of your Young Sparrow."
"No," Harry agreed, "and truly, I would not put either of us at risk! But I feel well! Very well!"
"You've been doing too much," Jack said, stubbornly. "Hasn't she Rachel?"
"Maybe a little," Rachel conceded. "But I've seen many a woman with energy enough and to spare, right up to the birth. But don't you worry, Captain, we'll take good care of her."
Jack did not leave until the second day after this discussion, for somehow their slight disagreement resulted in a night of passion that left both Harry and himself in need of additional rest the next day. They did not emerge from their bedroom until the late afternoon, and then endured the amused glances of their friends with easy-going indifference. Jack confided to Rachel that at least now he knew Harry was well rested before his departure.
* * *
At dinner that evening, Michael Owens and Charles Holliday were both fidgeting with an air of suppressed excitement that finally penetrated even Jack and Harry's abstraction.
"What the devil's ailing you, lad?" Jack demanded of his Cabin Boy.
"Captain…can Charles go with us to Tortuga? He wants to meet Tom and Robbie, and go fishing and see the sights, and…"
"Tortuga!" exclaimed Lady Margaret. "Is that not the terrible place where the Bride's Auction was held?"
"It's not a terrible place!" exclaimed Owens, and then flushed and mumbled, "Sorry!" when Jack gave him a warning glance.
Jack said, "Aye, that's the place. An' it's terrible, sure enough, but only some of it. Owens visits the sons of an old friend of mine, the Widow McGee. She owns one of the better inns-caters to the quality, such as come to Tortuga."
"Please may I go, Mama?" Charles begged. "I'll be fine! And you and Lady Harry can have a nice visit without you worrying about me being underfoot!"
Lady Margaret laughed, and Harry chuckled too, not only at this ingenious argument, but at Jack's grimace.
Lady Margaret said, "I'm not sure we should impose on Captain Sparrow's good nature in such a manner. Perhaps he doesn't want an additional charge."
"But I wouldn't be any trouble!" Charles objected.
"I'd keep an eye on him," Owens assured Jack. "I'm older, after all!"
"Older!" said Jack, scornfully. "By what? Six months? And considering the trouble you two managed to get into during those few days on the Pearl-well, the thought of lettin' the two o' you loose together in Tortuga fair curls me liver!"
* * *
In the end, however, Jack gave in to the boys' entreaties. It was against his better judgement, and he was quite sure their promises of good behavior would go by the wayside as soon as they were out of sight of St. Claire; but on the other hand, Harry and Lady Margaret would have an easier, more restful time of it while they were gone, and Jack was willing to sacrifice a bit of his sanity to provide that for his darling and her friend.
Actually, young Charles didn't quite break loose from the dictates of propriety and common sense until the Isle de Tortue hove into sight. As the Black Pearl slid into the bay, Jack watched the boys' excited expressions with more and more misgiving, and after the ship slid into a vacant berth and had been tied off he took them down to his cabin and read them a serious lecture on the conduct expected of young boys left to Captain Jack Sparrow's charge. They nodded vigorously, agreeing with everything he said, and as he let them depart and watched them fairly leaping down the gangplank and the dock and onto the waterfront, headed toward the Widow's Inn and the McGee boys, Jack commented to Gibbs that he didn't know why he'd bothered.
"Lay you odds they're in trouble before the night's out," Gibbs said.
"No," said Jack. "By supper, at the latest."
He was right. And as the days passed, and he went about trying to conduct his business while half his brain was occupied with worrying about what the 'whelps' were 'getting up to now', he realised he'd never had such a dreadful visit to the pirate haven. It was certainly a far cry from the days when his only concerns were finding the best grog and the warmest bed in town. Not that he missed the bedding part: it'd be foolish to try to return to that when he'd been enveloped in Harry's love and passion these many months. But to be there, and not be free to relax and have a drink or two (or three, or more) without being called on to rescue the young varmints from the consequences of their own foolishness made him want to grind his teeth and punch walls-or at least howl at the moon a bit.
Owens, Charles Holliday, and the McGee Brothers, on the other hand, were having a spectacularly good time, at least for the first few days. Owens tried at first to be the voice of wisdom in the group, but soon gave it up, for Charles's joy and enthusiasm for kicking up larks was quite contagious and tended to override any of Jack's lectures and scolding. Charles, whose life had been quite circumscribed until now, was ready to break loose in any direction, and the McGee Brothers were his willing acolytes. Owens's love for Jack kept him more cognizant of the effects of their mischief, but even that was not enough to stop him enjoying the fun and antics of his friends.
And so, as the days passed, the pranks grew more serious, until finally, on their fourth day in Tortuga, Jack's charges found themselves hauled up before their Captain, who fixed them both with a baleful eye, to the amusement of the few crewmembers who had the watch and were aboard to witness the contretemps.
Owens's chagrin and penitence were evident, but Charles appeared to look on their mutual deviltry as a series of grand adventures. Jack was furious.
He addressed them both in an acid growl, " Well, you've had the Adventure of the Purloined Cakes, and the Adventure of the Forbidden Tavern, and topped it off with the Adventure of the Burning Carriage House. So now, you misbegotten whelps, you can have the adventure of polishing the Pearl's brightwork for the next three days! And if I hear a word of fussin' outta either one o' you, you'll both be havin' the adventure of the Captain thrashin' your backsides! Savvy?"
Even Charles could see that Jack was deadly serious, and, glancing at the expression on his friend's face, he swallowed hard and said in a rather unsteady voice, "Aye, Captain!"
However, in spite of the dire threat, by the end of that first day Charles found it very difficult to refrain from "fussin'". The work, though not difficult, was hot and very tedious, and his hands were entirely unused to such labor. He kept silent then, but toward noon of the second day he made the mistake of complaining to Owens and was surprised and angry when his mild-mannered friend turned on him, telling him to "Shut up you bloody get, it's all your fault anyway!" This was, in fact, a little unfair, for Owens had participated in and enjoyed the adventures nearly as much as any of the others, and Charles naturally took exception to the accusation. A fight ensued, their sparring progressing from verbal to physical in short order, and when Gibbs came to see what the row was about he found them trying, rather ineffectually, to murder each other. Gibbs forcibly separated them, shook them like a terrier with a couple of rats, and told them he'd thrash them himself if they didn't desist and get back to work immediately! They did, and when Jack came back from town some time later in the afternoon and saw them, and demanded to know just how Owens had managed to acquire a split lip and Charles a black eye, the boys were exceedingly grateful when Gibbs told Jack they'd just been 'playin' a bit rough' and there was naught to be concerned over. Jack eyed the two, narrowly, but said nothing more about it.
And, in the end, the Captain's wrath was mollified, and he was even moved to praise the work the boys had accomplished during the three days. Charles' hands were a mass of blisters, Owens's somewhat less so, but both of them were really very proud, for the Black Pearl's brightwork fairly glowed.
"All right," said Jack. "You can have these last two days off to visit some more with the McGee boys. But mind yourselves, whelps, or I'll have each o' you regrettin' the day you were born."
They took him at his word, and spent the final days of their visit employed in comparatively harmless pursuits, fishing and hiking and skipping stones, practicing their fencing with great enthusiasm, and commiserating with the McGee brothers, who had not only endured their mother's righteous fury and three days of mucking out chicken coops and pigpens, but her handy way with a switch as well. Owens knew, and Charles finally realized that they had been very fortunate indeed. Charles' only remaining concern was that Jack might feel the need to inform his mother about his misbehavior on their return to St. Claire, but Owens dismissed this notion with such scorn that his fears were allayed.
Indeed, there was little evidence of lingering disapprobation in the Captain's manner. The slight rift between the two young miscreants had healed too, far more quickly than the split lip and black eye, and Charles Holliday's friendship with Michael Owens was now cemented firm and fast. As the Black Pearl left the shelter of Tortuga Bay and headed into the open water, back toward Lady Harry's island, there were few happier boys in existence than the two that stood together at the stern of the great ship, watching the dolphins leap and play in its wake.
* * *
Several days later, Rachel came out of the house to shake out some dust cloths and saw Jack striding toward her across the wide courtyard from the direction of Pearl's Rest, alone. Her eyebrows rose, and she glanced briefly over her shoulder into the house, then just gave a slight, fatalistic shrug and turned to smile at him. "Captain!" she greeted him, with happy ease. "We didn't expect to see you today!"
His eyes glinted. "I'll wager ye didn't, from the look of you. Where's my lady?"
Rachel sighed. "She's up in your rooms, but don't you go gettin' upset with her now. She's feelin' fine, an' wanted to do a little straightening, but it turned into more work than she'd thought it would be."
"Bloody hell. Has she rested at all since I left?"
"Sure she has! Some."
"At night, in the wee hours, I suppose."
"Captain, Lady Margaret and I always try to get her to take a little nap after lunch, and she minds us most days. Truly!"
He gave a non-committal snort to this and strode into the house.
Rachel smiled crookedly and sighed.
Jack climbed the stairs silently, walked up the hallway to their bedroom and peeked in. There were mountains of clothing all over the divan and the chaise longue, and all their shoes and other accessories in ordered piles on the floor.
Harry herself, however, was in a most compromising position, and Jack smiled grimly. She was clad in some drawstring breeches and one of his own old linen shirts, and was down on her hands and knees with her head stuck under the bed, apparently sweeping at something with a brush or a broom. Quite irresistible. He shut the door silently.
As he approached on cat feet, she spoke. "Rachel! This wretched perfume bottle has rolled under the bed! If I can't reach it we'll have to get…OW!"
As she scuttled backwards he scolded, "And what did I tell you right before I left, my girl? More rest, less work, eh? And this is where I find you? Cleanin' under the bleedin' bed!"
But she pulled herself upright, swiftly if rather awkwardly, turned and attacked him with the broom, exclaiming, "You evil, evil man! Beating the wife of your bosom, who is even now heavy with your child!" He backed away, laughing, but she followed, thoroughly riled, her cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed. "For shame! You are a despicable knave! Only the lowest vermin would do such a thing!"
She punctuated the words with smacks from the broom, on his arm, his hip, his thigh, wherever she could reach; then she clipped his hand with it accidentally as he raised it to ward her off. Though it hadn't hurt much, he yelped as if it had, and she hesitated for a dismayed instant, as he'd known she would. It was enough. He grabbed the broom away from her, tossing it aside. As it clattered to the floor, several feet away, he caught her wrists.
"No!" she said, angrily.
"Yes!" he growled, eyes laughing, pinning her wrists behind her and holding them with one hand. "Not only disobeying a direct order, but stealin' me clothes as well!" He began to swiftly unbutton the shirt, ignoring her struggles.
"Stop that! I did not steal it! I borrowed it!"
"Borrowed or stolen, what's the difference? You should be dressed in your silks and lace, and reclining on the chaise over there, shouldn't you?"
"No, I shouldn't! I keep telling you: I'm not ill! I'm having a baby! I never felt better in my life. Let me go!"
He finished the last button and shoved the shirt off her shoulders, leaving her naked from the waist up. The humor faded from his gaze, replaced by something quite different as he drank in the sight of her. He cupped one perfect breast in his hand, brushing his thumb over her nipple.
She had stilled, with a little gasp, but said, resentfully, "You wicked, wicked man!"
"Wicked, is it?" He released her wrists and drew her against him, his fingers sliding over her bare skin.
"Yes," she said. She let the loose shirtsleeves slip off and put an arm about his waist, and pulled him down for a kiss with the other. He complied, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other slipping down the back of the loose breeches to caress her darling backside, smiling at her pleased murmur. The arm about his waist tightened. She moved her other hand between their bodies and began to fumble unhurriedly with the buttons on his own breeches. His breath caught, slightly. She moved her lips a fraction of an inch from his. "Did you lock the door?" she asked.
"No. The maids can get an eyeful if they like."
She kissed him again shaking with laughter, then said, again, "Wicked man!" and slid her hand inside the gap she'd unbuttoned.
* * *
It was a long while later when she again repeated the epithet, a sigh of sated pleasure this time, uttered just before drifting off to sleep. He lay a while, studying her face, his hand set softly against her rounded belly, alert to the occasional rippling movements of the baby. There were roses in her cheeks, from their lovemaking, but there were shadows under her eyes as well. Stubborn little fool! Perhaps her idea had not been such a bad one after all: maybe the only way to get her to rest would be to remove her from the plantation for a while. There was endless work begging for her attention on St. Claire, and, as the owner, she obviously felt a proprietary interest in overseeing everything, learning everything, and doing everything she could manage to do. If he took her to her brother's place, on the other hand…
Well, she'd want to give that ball to throw Lady Margaret and Norrington together. But, between the Governor's staff and the additional help of some of the Pearl's crew-he knew she'd want Anatole to oversee the dinner and refreshments, and Alphonse would be useful in a hundred different ways-she'd have only to give her orders. And he'd be there to see she kept to that, at least until the thing was over. And then there'd be naught for her to do but laze about in the gardens with Elizabeth and Lady Margaret, until it was time to return to St. Claire for her confinement.
And he supposed it wouldn't hurt to let her sink her claws into Norrington for a bit. A grim smile lifted the corner of Jack's mouth. Not that he wasn't a forgiving man. There had even been a touch of regret attached to the death of Barbossa, whose sin had been the ultimate betrayal and had taken Jack ten years of his life to set right. But certain of Jack's dealing's with the Commodore had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. Their first meeting, for example. Worst pirate he'd ever heard of! Ha! Arrogant bastard. As usual, Jack had landed on his feet out of that adventure, but the remark still rankled, even so. No, it wouldn't hurt Norrington to have a bit of a run-in with Harry and her schemes. And if it worked out, as Harry thought it might, he'd actually have done the man a good turn. Something of which Jack could remind him in future, if the occasion demanded it.
Jack finally slipped from Harry's embrace and the warmth of the bed, and tucked her up a bit. She burrowed deeper into the pillow, but showed no other sign of waking. Quietly, he got cleaned up, dressed, picked up the broom and, with a last fond glance at his slumbering wife, left the room, closing the door behind him.
As Jack came down, he saw Giles Lightfoot seated in the little settle that sat against the wall at the foot of the stairs. The man stood and smiled at Jack, a knowing light in his eye.
"Lightfoot!" said Jack, "Have you been waiting long?"
"Oh, a while. Rachel told me you'd gone up to greet Lady Harry, so I knew I'd best be patient if I wanted to see you. One must prioritize one's duties, after all."
Jack's eyes glinted. "Indeed. Found her upstairs cleaning out closets, after I'd told her to leave such things to the servants. Had to take her to task a bit for that."
"Ah! Is that what you were doing?" Lightfoot grinned.
Jack wondered if the man had heard more than Harry (or indeed he, himself) might have wanted. Jack looked half amused, half chagrinned. "Aye. Well. She seemed happy to see me."
Lightfoot nodded. "I well remember Mrs. Lightfoot being happy in just that way, when she was seven months along."
Jack lifted a brow. "Surprised me some," he admitted, in a quiet tone. "Considering a few months ago…"
"I know what you mean," said Giles. "It takes 'em that way, in the beginning. But after that…well, let's just say she's likely been missing your company a great deal when you're out on the Pearl."
"It seems so," Jack admitted. "I've just been thinking I need to spend a bit more time with her. She tries to do too much around here, and with that storm tearing the place up there's a lot to do. I'm going to take her to Port Royal, to stay with her brother for a bit. She's been wanting to take Lady Margaret there, too, and introduce her to everyone."
"Why our plans coincide, then!" exclaimed Giles. "I'm going to Jamaica myself, at the invitation of one Eustace Greene-has a fine plantation, and some new thoughts on the distilling of rum. I was just going to ask if you and Lady Harry would like to meet him, too!"
"As long as we get to sample some of his rum," said Jack. "It sounds a good notion. Although St. Claire rum is already among the best!"
Giles nodded. "It didn't get that way without being open to fresh ideas about distilling, though. This Greene has connections on the mainland too, in nearly every colony. He produces more than we do, and will likely continue to do so, as he uses slave labor, which we won't be, now. It costs more to make it, but our rum is a step above most, and I'm thinking we can market it as something rare and special, and make up the difference."
"Aye, I feel you're right. Port Royal it is, then. When do you go?"
"My boy, Davis, and I will leave day after next on the Bonny Lass. Greene suggested coming toward the end of the month."
Jack nodded. "I think we can be ready to leave the day after that easy enough."
"And likely give us the go-by in that ship of yours! She's fast, that one is."
"None faster, in these waters," smiled Jack, and he glanced out the doors, toward the path that led to Pearl's Rest, where the other love of his life lay. As he looked, Owens and Charles came into view, loping across the courtyard, followed by Gibbs and O'Brien. O'Brien stopped to speak with Rachel, but the boys bounded up the veranda steps and into the house and Jack put a finger to his lips and motioned them to silence. Gibbs grinned as he walked in behind the pair.
"Lady Harry asleep, Jack? That was fast work!" He winked at his Captain, and added, "The Pearl's tied off right snug, and we stowed everything and swabbed her down."
"Good. 'Cause we're leavin' in three days."
"Leaving?" exclaimed Gibbs and the two boys in dismayed chorus, for they had all looked forward to spending some time on St. Claire, now that the work of cleaning up after the storm had nearly been completed.
Jack chuckled. "Aye, you lazy dogs, we'll be off to Port Royal. Captain's wife's orders. Savvy?"
~.~
On to Chapter Seven