'Now that the new governor has arrived, I hope that matters will remain as peaceful as they have been of late.'
Merriman takes a sip of his wine. 'He seems a decent sort, if perhaps not the most stellar example of his class. Well-intentioned and honourable, above all things, and willing to treat the position with the consideration it deserves. And free of outside influence -- I was certain to check for that.'
Merriman nods. 'Quiet enough for me to take my leave. I am looking forward to returning to London, though the Company officials are almost certainly not looking forward to the paperwork I will be bringing back with me.'
There's a grim sort of satisfaction in the way he says it. He's looking forward to it.
'I also owe explanations to one or two others there who are not connected with the Company,' he adds, almost as an afterthought. 'You happen to know one of them, in fact.'
Wellard grins a bit. "You could be bringing them paperwork dealing with the whole true account of events, starting with Davy Jones and Calypso, and see how long it takes them to sort them out- I'd lay odds on a few years at the least."
Well, its more likely that they would think Merriman to be as mad as Beckett was. But it is still an amusing image.
He then blinks, and looks at Merriman curiously. "... who? Everyone else I know there and then was rather involved and already knows what happened."
Merriman lets out a slight huff of breath at the thought. 'Perhaps it would be better not to go giving anyone else any ideas of a power behind the oceans, I think. Not for a while to come, at the very least.'
'When I was in London, before I set sail, part of my task was to ensure that outside pressure would be brought to bear on the Company -- preventing the situation from being swept under the carpet, as it were. To that end, I requested and enlisted the help of those who had influence in the City of London, particularly amongst the independent traders.'
He takes another sip of his wine. 'I will owe your grandfather a drink at the very least, upon my return.'
Merriman's mouth quirks with a touch of amusement.
'Not all of the independent traders happen to be willing to extend professional courtesy to those in the Company's employ. Understandably, perhaps -- but the fact remains that I was in need of someone I could trust to exercise discretion.'
"He wouldn't have really cared a whit, it would have just depended on who he was dealing with-" Wellard shakes his head.
"But still, you knew my grandfather? And he helped in all of this? Good lord." He reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose, both amused and shocked.
"It doesn't have anything to do with that cask Jack figured on sending him, when we all ran into him that night when we were sailing all over- That didn't mix up time, did it, sir?"
'We did briefly discuss the spate of pirate attacks against Company shipping at one point, but he never spoke of that to me.' Another twitch of the mouth. 'Again, understandably -- quite a lot went unsaid between us. But I can see why you hold such fond memories of him, Mr Wellard. He truly is and was a good man.'
"Certainly things on both sides that couldn't be said." He finally laughs quietly, shaking his head before looking back up to Merriman.
"Its so very odd to think that you've met him, and spoken to him, and that he helped somehow in all of this- years ago by how I would have known it before, but now..."
'Now it has happened, as if it had always happened that way,' Merriman finishes, with an answering smile. 'And to some extent, it did. But here we are muddying the waters, when in reality the ripples merely spread out in a slightly different pattern than before. It certainly was not the only thing that was altered in the process.'
The thought is a sobering one, and though his smile does not entirely fade it nonetheless shifts into something more business-like. 'Which is something that ought to be spoken of, while we are on the subject.'
"Time, and how things change, and when exactly I fit into all of it." Wellard states, quickly.
He has had quite a lot of time to puzzle over it himself, by now. "Given that I died in 1802, and returned to life about thirty years earlier..." He shakes his head slowly, taking a deep breath.
"Where and when I belong out there, now- and even if I do." Quietly.
'Unfortunately, that question is not one to which I can give a simple answer,' Merriman says slowly. 'My own experiences in such matters are rather less than applicable, and those of mortals I know have often fallen more under the consequences of going forward in Time, rather than back.'
And none of the experiences of the mortals in question are easy for him to talk about, for that matter.
'You can see the door, then? And it will open for you, if you attempt to open it?'
Hopefully he is not interrupting anything too important- Wellard rather has a long list of things to discuss with him.
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He gives Wellard a slightly tired but nonetheless welcoming smile. 'How goes it, Mister Wellard?'
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"It goes well enough, sir, all things considering. And yourself? How are things in Port Royal?"
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Merriman takes a sip of his wine. 'He seems a decent sort, if perhaps not the most stellar example of his class. Well-intentioned and honourable, above all things, and willing to treat the position with the consideration it deserves. And free of outside influence -- I was certain to check for that.'
Wellard knows well enough what that means.
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"So everything else is... quiet there, now?"
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There's a grim sort of satisfaction in the way he says it. He's looking forward to it.
'I also owe explanations to one or two others there who are not connected with the Company,' he adds, almost as an afterthought. 'You happen to know one of them, in fact.'
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Well, its more likely that they would think Merriman to be as mad as Beckett was. But it is still an amusing image.
He then blinks, and looks at Merriman curiously. "... who? Everyone else I know there and then was rather involved and already knows what happened."
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'When I was in London, before I set sail, part of my task was to ensure that outside pressure would be brought to bear on the Company -- preventing the situation from being swept under the carpet, as it were. To that end, I requested and enlisted the help of those who had influence in the City of London, particularly amongst the independent traders.'
He takes another sip of his wine. 'I will owe your grandfather a drink at the very least, upon my return.'
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It is rather surprising he did not spill it.
"... my grandfather?"
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'Not all of the independent traders happen to be willing to extend professional courtesy to those in the Company's employ. Understandably, perhaps -- but the fact remains that I was in need of someone I could trust to exercise discretion.'
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"But still, you knew my grandfather? And he helped in all of this? Good lord." He reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose, both amused and shocked.
"It doesn't have anything to do with that cask Jack figured on sending him, when we all ran into him that night when we were sailing all over- That didn't mix up time, did it, sir?"
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"Its so very odd to think that you've met him, and spoken to him, and that he helped somehow in all of this- years ago by how I would have known it before, but now..."
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The thought is a sobering one, and though his smile does not entirely fade it nonetheless shifts into something more business-like. 'Which is something that ought to be spoken of, while we are on the subject.'
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He has had quite a lot of time to puzzle over it himself, by now. "Given that I died in 1802, and returned to life about thirty years earlier..." He shakes his head slowly, taking a deep breath.
"Where and when I belong out there, now- and even if I do." Quietly.
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And none of the experiences of the mortals in question are easy for him to talk about, for that matter.
'You can see the door, then? And it will open for you, if you attempt to open it?'
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