A Christmas Tale of the Sea
Giselle made her way to the bow of the Pearl, the revelry, on the decks of the ships crowding the bay, wafting across the water. The soft breeze from shore carried with it the smell of campfires and roast pig, along with the ever-present pungency which was Tortuga.
Jack was sitting out on the bowsprit, eyes towards the horizon, a half empty bottle of rum dangling from one hand. His face was pensive, almost melancholy, his eyes distant, even when he glanced down at her from his perch.
“Fellow oughtn’t be alone, ‘specially on Christmas.” Giselle smiled, the breeze fluttering her skirts. She’d paid a pretty penny to have the gown made, had it made special, for this night, in hopes of catching Jack’s eye once again. She smoothed her hand down the silken embroidery, biting her lip to keep from crying.
“Was hopin’ we might get t’ spend some time together,” she continued, in a soft voice. “You know, fer old time’s sake, and all that.” She glanced up, hopeful.
Jack sighed and took a long swallow of rum. Pointing towards the lights of the other ships in the harbor, he said simply, “There’s many a fine gent looking for a bit of company tonight. A face as lovely as yours ought t’ have her pick.”
Giselle glanced out at the water and shook her head. “I’m not lookin’ fer that, Jack.”
Sighing again, Jack scuttled along the bowsprit and hopped onto the deck. Handing the bottle to Giselle he said with finality, “I’m not lookin’ for that, either. Done found it, and lost it once again.”
Giselle laid a hand on his sleeve. “Not like you t’ give up, Jack. I’m sure you’ll find her again, one day.” She smiled sadly. “In the meantime, well, I know I ain’t what yer wantin’, but I’m willin’ t’ be what you need, if only fer tonight.” She took a swallow of rum, and gave him a hopeful look.
Jack didn’t answer, just gave her a quick smile as he joined her at the rail. The two of them gazed at the lights of Tortuga in comfortable silence.
“Looks almost pretty, from here,” she said finally, laughing softly. She bit her lip again, then blurted out, “Jack, I know you don’t think of me in that way, maybe never did, and I ain’t tryin’ t’ make us into something we ain’t…”
He turned then, and shushed her with a finger gently on her lips. He trailed his fingers along her cheek and jaw, tilting her face slightly so he could see her eyes. “Hush, darling. You don’t need to say it.” Rubbing softly with his thumb, he caught a stray tear coursing its way down her cheek. He kissed her gently, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“I’d like to tell you a story,” he said, gazing once more at the sparkling lights on shore.
****
“Now, for that story I promised,” Jack began, leaning back in his chair in the Black Pearl’s great cabin. Patting his knee, he settled Giselle comfortably on his lap. “This is a tale about the Isle of Kell.”
“You already told me that one,” Giselle laughed, snuggling closer.
“If I remember correctly,” Jack raised an eyebrow, “I never did tell you how the story ended.”
Giselle laid her head on his shoulder, the evening’s festivities and rounds of drink taking their toll. “The sailor died,” she said sleepily, “S’what you said.”
“Ah, but he didn’t really die,” Jack said softly. “You see, he’d already been dead before, and wasn’t too keen on doing it again.”
Giselle twirled a beaded braid around her finger. “So, he didn’t die?”
“Aye. But the world thought he were dead, which helped him t’ disappear into the mists of time.”
Jack shifted Giselle’s weight so he could reach the bottle of rum. Taking a swallow, he began the tale.
****
“Now, as the legend was told, Kell was neither heathen nor fool. He knew what he risked but he did it anyway, for he had lost all reason in the siren's blue storm eyes. So there on the sunswept sea he gave the mermaid his soul, and pledged to love her in return.
On her enchanted island they lived a very long time, longer than any man could count. The mermaid wife bore him many children; everything she promised turned true. For a while, Kell was content.
Yet time changes all men, and fisherman Kell was no different. Although he had lost his soul he still had his own wild heart, and in it lived a tiny, tiny seed of doubt. Over the years it grew, slowly, quietly, until he came to regret his bargain, despite his charmed life. He began to resent the island and his sea-born family. He spoke of returning to his old home, far from enchantment.
But the mermaid would not release him. She kept his soul locked tight near her heart in a locket of shining silver on a necklace she never removed.
Finally, one moonless night, Kell could abide it no longer. While his merwife slept he crept close and snatched the silver chain from her neck, opening the talisman locket. It waked her instantly, and she reached up to him and cried out:
My beloved, my fool! You have forsaken us both!
For all the while she had kept it close, the soul stayed captive near her heart, enslaved but safe. But when the fisherman opened the locket, his soul fled free to the stars.
Old Kell died in that very moment, forsaken as the mermaid had said. And that night she returned to the sea, wounded and forlorn, vowing in her pain to curse love, to keep her island and her children safe from faithless mortals.”
****
Giselle sat up with a start. “So he DID die! You lied to me, Jack Sparrow!” She swatted him playfully on the arm.
Jack grinned and raised a finger. “Ah, but that is what legend says happened.” He sat back with a smug smile and added, “I happen to know ‘tis not true.”
She furrowed her brow in concentration. “But, I mean, how do you…?”
Gathering her back in his arms, he laughed. “Same story, different version, luv.” He sobered and added quietly, “Life on land, trapped like that, would be the death of any true man of the sea.”
“Is that why you left?” Giselle said, a flash of insight piercing her rum-fogged mind. “Is that the reason you showed up here, alone?”
Jack didn’t deny it, just pulled her into an embrace, kissing her softly on the cheek. “Sometimes a man needs t’ find out for himself, if the price is too steep.” He sighed and stood Giselle on her feet before rising himself, gazing out the windows at the moonlit sea beyond.
“Jack?” Giselle slipped an arm around his.
“Hmmm?”
“Perhaps I ought t’ be goin’, now.”
“Why?” He turned in surprise. “What happened to ‘for old time’s sake’?”
Giselle shrugged. “Don’t seem right, somehow. You wantin’ her, and me being…”
Jack took her by the hands and said, as serious as she’d ever seen him, “I weren’t wantin’ you t’ stay for that reason. Bloody hell, woman! I can avail me own palm, if the need’s upon me.” He searched her eyes. “You said it yourself, luv. No man, or woman for that matter, should be alone, especially on Christmas.” He grinned then, a gold flash of pure Jack charm. “So you see? I need you here, you want to be here…you do want t’ be here?”
Giselle nodded, unsure what to say.
Jack blithefully continued. “And being as I want you to want to be here, and you want me to want you to be here, and…”
“Hush, Jack,” she laughed. “You’ll be makin’ me dizzy, if you don’t. Just tell me what you want.”
Jack stood straight and said solemnly, “Well then. I would be honored if you’d consent to spending the evening with me, no strings attached, for old time’s sake.” Eyes twinkling he held out his hand. “Do we have an accord?”
Giggling, Giselle shook his hand. “Deal.”
****