Pirate Fic for the New Year
I'm stepping back into those warm, Caribbean waters after spending the last four years on a different island. ;) This little piratey story (just over 750 words) is focused on good luck in the new year, and was written for the Twelve Days of Christmas celebration at blackpearlsails. Many thanks to jenthegypsy for looking this over, and to mumsypower for the Latin (and if my usage is incorrect, 'tis my error and not hers).
~~ Annus Novus ~~
He’d searched through every book he owned, asked questions of learned men he’d encountered (sometimes at the point of his sword, granted, but he had made an effort to ask politely), and queried barkeeps in all their usual ports. The preparations had taken effort, time and ingenuity, not to mention significant expense - enough to make Gibbs’s eyes as round as the coins he handed the merchants - but Jack was determined that nothing be left to chance. Besides, needs must when the devil drives. Or sails.
Cook had been beside himself listening to Jack’s plans, but came around quickly as the bounty filled the galley: lentils for the soup, several joints of pork (nearly half a pig!), sugar and newly-milled flour for cakes, and a purse full of coins to bake into said cakes, enough so that each member of the crew would find one in his portion. Every item on the menu had been selected to assure good luck in the new year.
Jack glanced at the ornate clock in its niche on the shelf, reminding himself to come up with a better way to secure it than tying it in place with the sash from his dressing gown. He checked his pocket watch, and, just to be certain, peered at the dial of his compass before snapping it closed and then bolting the cabin door. Several hours remained but he could no longer resist the peacock lure of new clothing, even if this particular item was not to be publicly displayed.
Rummaging in his sea chest, he pulled the garment from under his spare shirt, pausing a moment to stroke the soft fabric before dropping it on his bunk and divesting himself of boots and breeches. A flouncy bit of trim caught his eye, making his upper lip curl back until a knife helped him do away with the annoyance.
Jack tied the drawstring and attempted to admire his new smallclothes in the piece of mirror he’d propped against the candelabra, though it was difficult to gauge the full effect. A thing more than adequate for reflecting one’s eye whilst applying kohl became terribly restrictive when attempting a larger view, and all it gave back to him was a bit of thigh, a silk-sheathed hip, or a minor portion of his red-clad arse.
A chuff of laughter escaped as he remembered Giselle’s objections when he’d made his request. Why should I give them to you? What do I care what people do in Italy? Besides, they were a present! She’d swallowed her protests and agreed to the trade the instant he’d pulled the bauble from his pocket, but gods, the woman was damn near irresistible when she pouted.
****
Dinner a warm memory in his belly, Jack stood at the helm, caressing the smooth wood of the wheel where he’d moments ago placed a gentle lover’s kiss. A myriad of church bells raucously welcomed the new year several leagues away in Port Royal.
“Over the yardarm!”
Jack leaned back, called high into the rigging. “Thank you, Mr. Cotton. I do ‘preciate you and Parrot standing watch tonight.”
A call of, “ho, the Black Pearl!” was followed by the thump of a small boat sidling up to the ship. Perhaps a dozen of the crew, those more alert than their companions, had drawn swords or pistols before Jack bellowed an order to stand down. Sprinting down the stairs and darting to the rail, he leaned over to address the small craft’s occupant.
“Welcome! Welcome and a happy new year to you, honored guest!” Stretching further down toward the visitor, hair ornaments all a-jingle, Jack’s feet left the deck as he added, sotto voce, “you’re supposed to knock, remember?”
The man below rolled his eyes, muttering in sing-song fashion, “make certain to come after midnight, don’t just climb aboard even though you’re expected, leave your wig in your bedroom, here’s a list of things to stuff into your pockets....
“Oh, very well,” he continued, knuckles rapping smartly against the Pearl’s hull, “permission to come aboard, Captain Sparrow?”
“Granted, dear sir, gladly granted.” Jack beamed with delight and offered a beringed hand to assist. “Welcome aboard.”
As the visitor stood up on deck, the crew sucked in a collective gasp while Gibbs sputtered a strangled phrase which might have been God’s teeth. Oblivious, Jack introduced their first-foot and then accepted good luck gifts of whiskey, coal, several shiny coppers, a crust of bread, and one slightly crushed bit of shrubbery, murmuring, “thank you, James,” after each was placed in his hands.
>^..^<
Notes for the curious:
A "first-foot" or "first-footer" is, in Scottish tradition, the first person to cross a home's threshold after the new year comes at midnight. Tall, dark-haired men are highly favored as first-footers, especially good looking ones. The person must knock and be let in, and would ideally be carrying some or all of the following: coins, bread, salt, coal, a drink (usually whiskey) and greenery, which represent financial prosperity, food, flavor, warmth, good cheer, and long life.
Many foods are traditional for a New Year's feast, including lentils, because they are round like coins and swell as they cook, therefore being understood to mean an increase in wealth is on the way. Pork is another traditional food since as pigs root for food, they keep their feet planted and push their snouts forward, signifying progress. In many cultures, religions, and historical records is the idea that sweets are highly prized not only for celebration but also for good luck. As with a number of other holiday feasts, a coin may be baked into new year's breads or cakes to bring the finder good luck in the days to come, but (unlike Jack's instructions to Cook) there would be a single coin in the loaf.
The tradition of kissing at midnight is based on the idea that a midnight kiss exchanged with one's lover ensures continued intimacy.
Jack was determined to acquire Giselle's red silk bloomers to use as smallclothes because he'd heard of an Italian tradition of wearing red underwear on New Year's day.
~~ Annus Novus ~~
He’d searched through every book he owned, asked questions of learned men he’d encountered (sometimes at the point of his sword, granted, but he had made an effort to ask politely), and queried barkeeps in all their usual ports. The preparations had taken effort, time and ingenuity, not to mention significant expense - enough to make Gibbs’s eyes as round as the coins he handed the merchants - but Jack was determined that nothing be left to chance. Besides, needs must when the devil drives. Or sails.
Cook had been beside himself listening to Jack’s plans, but came around quickly as the bounty filled the galley: lentils for the soup, several joints of pork (nearly half a pig!), sugar and newly-milled flour for cakes, and a purse full of coins to bake into said cakes, enough so that each member of the crew would find one in his portion. Every item on the menu had been selected to assure good luck in the new year.
Jack glanced at the ornate clock in its niche on the shelf, reminding himself to come up with a better way to secure it than tying it in place with the sash from his dressing gown. He checked his pocket watch, and, just to be certain, peered at the dial of his compass before snapping it closed and then bolting the cabin door. Several hours remained but he could no longer resist the peacock lure of new clothing, even if this particular item was not to be publicly displayed.
Rummaging in his sea chest, he pulled the garment from under his spare shirt, pausing a moment to stroke the soft fabric before dropping it on his bunk and divesting himself of boots and breeches. A flouncy bit of trim caught his eye, making his upper lip curl back until a knife helped him do away with the annoyance.
Jack tied the drawstring and attempted to admire his new smallclothes in the piece of mirror he’d propped against the candelabra, though it was difficult to gauge the full effect. A thing more than adequate for reflecting one’s eye whilst applying kohl became terribly restrictive when attempting a larger view, and all it gave back to him was a bit of thigh, a silk-sheathed hip, or a minor portion of his red-clad arse.
A chuff of laughter escaped as he remembered Giselle’s objections when he’d made his request. Why should I give them to you? What do I care what people do in Italy? Besides, they were a present! She’d swallowed her protests and agreed to the trade the instant he’d pulled the bauble from his pocket, but gods, the woman was damn near irresistible when she pouted.
****
Dinner a warm memory in his belly, Jack stood at the helm, caressing the smooth wood of the wheel where he’d moments ago placed a gentle lover’s kiss. A myriad of church bells raucously welcomed the new year several leagues away in Port Royal.
“Over the yardarm!”
Jack leaned back, called high into the rigging. “Thank you, Mr. Cotton. I do ‘preciate you and Parrot standing watch tonight.”
A call of, “ho, the Black Pearl!” was followed by the thump of a small boat sidling up to the ship. Perhaps a dozen of the crew, those more alert than their companions, had drawn swords or pistols before Jack bellowed an order to stand down. Sprinting down the stairs and darting to the rail, he leaned over to address the small craft’s occupant.
“Welcome! Welcome and a happy new year to you, honored guest!” Stretching further down toward the visitor, hair ornaments all a-jingle, Jack’s feet left the deck as he added, sotto voce, “you’re supposed to knock, remember?”
The man below rolled his eyes, muttering in sing-song fashion, “make certain to come after midnight, don’t just climb aboard even though you’re expected, leave your wig in your bedroom, here’s a list of things to stuff into your pockets....
“Oh, very well,” he continued, knuckles rapping smartly against the Pearl’s hull, “permission to come aboard, Captain Sparrow?”
“Granted, dear sir, gladly granted.” Jack beamed with delight and offered a beringed hand to assist. “Welcome aboard.”
As the visitor stood up on deck, the crew sucked in a collective gasp while Gibbs sputtered a strangled phrase which might have been God’s teeth. Oblivious, Jack introduced their first-foot and then accepted good luck gifts of whiskey, coal, several shiny coppers, a crust of bread, and one slightly crushed bit of shrubbery, murmuring, “thank you, James,” after each was placed in his hands.
>^..^<
Notes for the curious:
A "first-foot" or "first-footer" is, in Scottish tradition, the first person to cross a home's threshold after the new year comes at midnight. Tall, dark-haired men are highly favored as first-footers, especially good looking ones. The person must knock and be let in, and would ideally be carrying some or all of the following: coins, bread, salt, coal, a drink (usually whiskey) and greenery, which represent financial prosperity, food, flavor, warmth, good cheer, and long life.
Many foods are traditional for a New Year's feast, including lentils, because they are round like coins and swell as they cook, therefore being understood to mean an increase in wealth is on the way. Pork is another traditional food since as pigs root for food, they keep their feet planted and push their snouts forward, signifying progress. In many cultures, religions, and historical records is the idea that sweets are highly prized not only for celebration but also for good luck. As with a number of other holiday feasts, a coin may be baked into new year's breads or cakes to bring the finder good luck in the days to come, but (unlike Jack's instructions to Cook) there would be a single coin in the loaf.
The tradition of kissing at midnight is based on the idea that a midnight kiss exchanged with one's lover ensures continued intimacy.
Jack was determined to acquire Giselle's red silk bloomers to use as smallclothes because he'd heard of an Italian tradition of wearing red underwear on New Year's day.