For tiamary, "Old Christmas Revived, Part V" by mamazano
Moderator's Note: This was written in five chapters so I posted it as such. All parts will be linked at the bottom of each LJ Cut for easy sifting. If you come through at the halfway mark, and I'm not finished posting, please bear with me. Thanks! -'Drea
Title: Old Christmas Revived, Hospitality Restored (Part Five)
Author: mamazano
Rating: G
Characters: Various characters from POTC, along with some OC’s
Disclaimer: Borrowed from Disney, without permission, with all intentions of giving them back…maybe.
Written For: For the 2009 merrypirates fic exchange, for Tiamary, who requested a story that includes tidbits about how Christmastime was observed in the Caribbean in the 1700s.
Summary: The crew of the Black Pearl on holiday in Tortuga. Set post-AWE, at Christmastime. Fancy that!
A/N: Tremendous gratitude goes out to all my darling danglingdingle, for her unflagging encouragement, unfailing support and spot-on suggestions, all of which have enabled this story to unfold.
A special thank you also goes out to stealmybike, for reading through the final draft for continuity and story flow.
*
Old Christmas Revived, Hospitality Restored
Chapter 5
****
The cooks and the scullion, who toil in their frocks,
Their hopes do depend upon their Christmas box;
There is very few that do live on the earth
But enjoy at this time either profit or mirth;
Yea those that are charged to find all relief,
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef.
Then well may we welcome Old Christmas to town,
Who brings us good cheer, and good liquor so brown;
To pass the cold winter away with delight,
We feast it all day, and we frolick all night:
Both hunger and cold we keep out with relief,
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef.
Then let all curmudgeons, who dote on their wealth,
And value their treasure much more than their health,
Go hang themselves up, if they will be so kind;
Old Christmas with them but small welcome shall find;
They will not afford to themselves without grief,
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef.
****
“Whatcha got there?” Giselle asked Cotton, who was setting some wooden figures on top of a crate.
Pierre bent down to get a closer look and clapped his hands, exclaiming, “It is a crèche!”
Scarlett picked up one of the little wooden figure and turned it over in her hand. “Why Mr. Cotton! Did you carve this yourself?”
Cotton just smiled as the rough and rowdy crew of pirates took turns examining the figurines and commenting among themselves.
“Oh look! A shepherd. See ‘is sheep there?”
“A donkey! And this must be one of them Wise Men.”
“And ‘ere’s Mary, and Joseph.”
Giselle looked up from where she was kneeling next to the crate and asked, “Where’s the baby Jesus?”
Pierre answered for Cotton. “It is a tradition in my country not to place the babe in the manger until the stroke of midnight on the eve of Christmas.”
“Which by my calculations,” Gibbs said, pulling out a pocket watch and consulted it. “Should be right about … now.”
As he spoke the ringing of church bells pealed in the night and a collective cry of voices could be heard echoing from the ships in the harbor and upon the shore, “Happy Christmas! Happy Christmas, everyone!”
Cotton pulled a small wooden figure from his pocket with a flourish and bowing, handed it to Giselle. Smiling widely, she bent and delicately placed the tiny wooden babe in the manger, as the men all cheered and clapped each other on the back.
Ragetti stood, and taking the wassail bowl from his head, he reverently placed it over his heart and spoke:
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
“Whoot’s ‘e doin’ in a manger?” one of the more drunk crew members asked.
“Well there weren’t no room in the inn, now were there?”
Giselle touched a gentle finger to the figure of the baby. “Must have been difficult, her having t’ give birth all alone in a strange place. No family, no nothing.”
“Ah, ma chérie, she was not alone,” Pierre said smiling. “She had Joseph beside her, to protect her and her baby.”
****
Jack slipped by, and made his way to the bow of the Pearl. Sitting out on the bowsprit, eyes towards the horizon, a half empty bottle of rum dangling from one hand, he sought to make sense of his maelstrom of emotions. The multitude of stars above, stretching to infinity did not answer his unspoken questions, nor did the dark sea beyond the Pearl’s bow.
And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
He knew where his heart truly lied, he knew and yet was helpless to change what fate had dealt them.
“Find Elizabeth, Jack. Take care of her for me.”
The words echoed on the distant wind.
Closer ones interrupted his thoughts.
“A person oughtn’t to be alone, ‘specially on Christmas.”
Giselle smiled, when Jack glanced down at her from his perch, the breeze fluttering her skirts. Lost in thought, he had not heard her approach.
“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.”
“Not like you t’ give up, Jack. I’m sure you’ll find it again, one day.” Giselle laid a hand on his sleeve. “You just have to know what you want and go after it. S’what you always tell me.”
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.
What seemed a lifetime ago, he’d sailed into this very port, trailing along on a fool’s mission to rescue a certain damsel in distress. Seemed fate was handing him the same mission, and yet who was it exactly that needed rescuing this time?
“…and you really need to see the wonderful crèche Cotton carved!” Giselle prattled on.
“Come again?” Jack shook the past from his mind.
“The crew. They asked me t’fetch you, Jack.” Giselle sighed. “Weren’t you even listening?”
“The crew. Right.” Jack draped his arm around her shoulder. “Tell them I will be with them shortly.” He gave her a gently push. “Go on, I won’t be long.”
He knew that he couldn’t say no. It was the least he could do, for them. Life, new life, had a way of reshuffling one’s priorities.
Resolute in spirit, if not mind, Jack rejoined the festivities on deck, where the remaining men were raising their tankards to all and sundry including the King, were it pirate or principality, their captain, their crew, their long-suffering mothers… leaving no one out as the rum flowed freely.
Jack bent down and studied the small wooden figures, picking up first Joseph and then Mary. With a smile he placed them gently beside the baby in the manger.
Ah, ma chérie, she was not alone. She had Joseph beside her, to protect her and her baby.
Scuttlebutt was that the pirate king had left these waters, and traveled east, back to the land of her birth. A bright star hung low in the Eastern sky, catching Jack’s eye, beckoning him, pointing the way.
They say that Wise Men from before time followed a guiding star, leading them to one worth more than any earthly treasure. Jack opened his compass and smiled as the needle held steady. He knew where his course now lay.
Snapping the compass shut, Jack made up his mind.
“Mister Gibbs!”
“Aye, Cap’n?”
“We have our heading.”
“Where to, Cap’n?” Gibbs asked, scratching his whiskers.
“East. We sail the day after Boxing Day on the morning tide.”
“Aye, Cap’n. I’ll have the crew on board, sir.”
A flurry of activity accompanied his words as a small piglet dashed across the deck, with Ragetti, wassail bowl and all, hot on her heels.
Shaking his head, Jack said, “I leave them in your hands, Mister Gibbs.”
Gibbs raised his cup. “To Old Christmas Revived.”
Jack raised his as well, clinking cups he said, “Hospitality Restored.”
Then, with a small salute he toasted the far horizon. “Here’s to you, Will Turner.”
Turning his gaze back to the guiding star, he raised his cup once more, “And Elizabeth, wherever you may be. Happy Christmas, luv.”
*End
| Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |
Title: Old Christmas Revived, Hospitality Restored (Part Five)
Author: mamazano
Rating: G
Characters: Various characters from POTC, along with some OC’s
Disclaimer: Borrowed from Disney, without permission, with all intentions of giving them back…maybe.
Written For: For the 2009 merrypirates fic exchange, for Tiamary, who requested a story that includes tidbits about how Christmastime was observed in the Caribbean in the 1700s.
Summary: The crew of the Black Pearl on holiday in Tortuga. Set post-AWE, at Christmastime. Fancy that!
A/N: Tremendous gratitude goes out to all my darling danglingdingle, for her unflagging encouragement, unfailing support and spot-on suggestions, all of which have enabled this story to unfold.
A special thank you also goes out to stealmybike, for reading through the final draft for continuity and story flow.
*
Old Christmas Revived, Hospitality Restored
Chapter 5
****
The cooks and the scullion, who toil in their frocks,
Their hopes do depend upon their Christmas box;
There is very few that do live on the earth
But enjoy at this time either profit or mirth;
Yea those that are charged to find all relief,
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef.
Then well may we welcome Old Christmas to town,
Who brings us good cheer, and good liquor so brown;
To pass the cold winter away with delight,
We feast it all day, and we frolick all night:
Both hunger and cold we keep out with relief,
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef.
Then let all curmudgeons, who dote on their wealth,
And value their treasure much more than their health,
Go hang themselves up, if they will be so kind;
Old Christmas with them but small welcome shall find;
They will not afford to themselves without grief,
Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef.
****
“Whatcha got there?” Giselle asked Cotton, who was setting some wooden figures on top of a crate.
Pierre bent down to get a closer look and clapped his hands, exclaiming, “It is a crèche!”
Scarlett picked up one of the little wooden figure and turned it over in her hand. “Why Mr. Cotton! Did you carve this yourself?”
Cotton just smiled as the rough and rowdy crew of pirates took turns examining the figurines and commenting among themselves.
“Oh look! A shepherd. See ‘is sheep there?”
“A donkey! And this must be one of them Wise Men.”
“And ‘ere’s Mary, and Joseph.”
Giselle looked up from where she was kneeling next to the crate and asked, “Where’s the baby Jesus?”
Pierre answered for Cotton. “It is a tradition in my country not to place the babe in the manger until the stroke of midnight on the eve of Christmas.”
“Which by my calculations,” Gibbs said, pulling out a pocket watch and consulted it. “Should be right about … now.”
As he spoke the ringing of church bells pealed in the night and a collective cry of voices could be heard echoing from the ships in the harbor and upon the shore, “Happy Christmas! Happy Christmas, everyone!”
Cotton pulled a small wooden figure from his pocket with a flourish and bowing, handed it to Giselle. Smiling widely, she bent and delicately placed the tiny wooden babe in the manger, as the men all cheered and clapped each other on the back.
Ragetti stood, and taking the wassail bowl from his head, he reverently placed it over his heart and spoke:
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
“Whoot’s ‘e doin’ in a manger?” one of the more drunk crew members asked.
“Well there weren’t no room in the inn, now were there?”
Giselle touched a gentle finger to the figure of the baby. “Must have been difficult, her having t’ give birth all alone in a strange place. No family, no nothing.”
“Ah, ma chérie, she was not alone,” Pierre said smiling. “She had Joseph beside her, to protect her and her baby.”
****
Jack slipped by, and made his way to the bow of the Pearl. Sitting out on the bowsprit, eyes towards the horizon, a half empty bottle of rum dangling from one hand, he sought to make sense of his maelstrom of emotions. The multitude of stars above, stretching to infinity did not answer his unspoken questions, nor did the dark sea beyond the Pearl’s bow.
And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
He knew where his heart truly lied, he knew and yet was helpless to change what fate had dealt them.
“Find Elizabeth, Jack. Take care of her for me.”
The words echoed on the distant wind.
Closer ones interrupted his thoughts.
“A person oughtn’t to be alone, ‘specially on Christmas.”
Giselle smiled, when Jack glanced down at her from his perch, the breeze fluttering her skirts. Lost in thought, he had not heard her approach.
“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.”
“Not like you t’ give up, Jack. I’m sure you’ll find it again, one day.” Giselle laid a hand on his sleeve. “You just have to know what you want and go after it. S’what you always tell me.”
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.
What seemed a lifetime ago, he’d sailed into this very port, trailing along on a fool’s mission to rescue a certain damsel in distress. Seemed fate was handing him the same mission, and yet who was it exactly that needed rescuing this time?
“…and you really need to see the wonderful crèche Cotton carved!” Giselle prattled on.
“Come again?” Jack shook the past from his mind.
“The crew. They asked me t’fetch you, Jack.” Giselle sighed. “Weren’t you even listening?”
“The crew. Right.” Jack draped his arm around her shoulder. “Tell them I will be with them shortly.” He gave her a gently push. “Go on, I won’t be long.”
He knew that he couldn’t say no. It was the least he could do, for them. Life, new life, had a way of reshuffling one’s priorities.
Resolute in spirit, if not mind, Jack rejoined the festivities on deck, where the remaining men were raising their tankards to all and sundry including the King, were it pirate or principality, their captain, their crew, their long-suffering mothers… leaving no one out as the rum flowed freely.
Jack bent down and studied the small wooden figures, picking up first Joseph and then Mary. With a smile he placed them gently beside the baby in the manger.
Ah, ma chérie, she was not alone. She had Joseph beside her, to protect her and her baby.
Scuttlebutt was that the pirate king had left these waters, and traveled east, back to the land of her birth. A bright star hung low in the Eastern sky, catching Jack’s eye, beckoning him, pointing the way.
They say that Wise Men from before time followed a guiding star, leading them to one worth more than any earthly treasure. Jack opened his compass and smiled as the needle held steady. He knew where his course now lay.
Snapping the compass shut, Jack made up his mind.
“Mister Gibbs!”
“Aye, Cap’n?”
“We have our heading.”
“Where to, Cap’n?” Gibbs asked, scratching his whiskers.
“East. We sail the day after Boxing Day on the morning tide.”
“Aye, Cap’n. I’ll have the crew on board, sir.”
A flurry of activity accompanied his words as a small piglet dashed across the deck, with Ragetti, wassail bowl and all, hot on her heels.
Shaking his head, Jack said, “I leave them in your hands, Mister Gibbs.”
Gibbs raised his cup. “To Old Christmas Revived.”
Jack raised his as well, clinking cups he said, “Hospitality Restored.”
Then, with a small salute he toasted the far horizon. “Here’s to you, Will Turner.”
Turning his gaze back to the guiding star, he raised his cup once more, “And Elizabeth, wherever you may be. Happy Christmas, luv.”
*End
| Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |