Chapter Twelve - Promises
The little house stood resolute overlooking the inlet, white-painted walls gleaming. Ragetti had firmly instructed all of the crew who were coming ashore to not only be on their best behaviour, but to wash, sparking a fierce row over the small amount of soap that was actually present on the Black Pearl. Jack had trimmed his moustaches and applied fresh patchouli to his hair; like as not they were going to terrify the poor woman out of her wits no matter how clean they were, but it was worth a try.
As they approached the dwelling, he spotted a small figure hunched over what appeared to be a vegetable garden. It straightened at the sound of their approach, and a tiny, white haired woman turned to face the motley group of pirates walking towards her house.
For a second she regarded them fiercely, then her gaze alighted on Ragetti.
"Benedict!" She cried, and ran with surprising ease towards him. The gangly man opened his arms wide for a hug, but reeled backwards as her palm connected with his cheek. "How dare you not visit for so long?! I have been out of my mind!"
"'M sorry Aunty Maria," he said, rubbing at his face. "I've been all over the world. I brought ye this!" From a pocket he produced a small ebony carving of a monkey.
She eyed it suspiciously.
"You stole it?"
"Never!" For once, he was actually being truthful. "I brought it all the way back from the East Indies for ye." He pressed the little ornament into her wrinkled hand, where she subjected it to a further inspection before stuffing it in the pocket of her apron. She then turned the same searching glare on the rest of the crew. Pintel attempted a wan smile when she gave him an extra venomous look, and she narrowed her eyes when she looked at Jack in particular.
"Well I suppose you ragamuffins will be wanting to be fed, hmm?"
"Why is it that she never said," Jack hissed, trying to pick a bit of potato peel out from under his finger nail, "that we would be the ones doing the cooking?"
Ragetti shrugged apologetically.
"'S bad manners to laze about an' let a poor old woman do all the work, Cap'n."
"Poor old woman my-" Jack fell silent as the woman in question approached, wielding a wooden spoon. She nodded approvingly at the growing pile of peeled tubers between the two men and walked on. He tried a different tack. "Bit old to be your aunty, surely? Thought Pintel was your uncle."
"Oh well she's me mam's aunty really, raised me herself after ma had to go back to work- can't be having kids about in her line o' business, really. Hates me dad's side of the family something rotten, Pinters is the only one she'll even let in the house."
There was a muffled cry as the pirate in question received a sharp rap from the spoon.
"That'll teach you to steal chayote! No eating 'til it's cooked! Always knew you were a no-good thieving rascal family..."
Ragetti snickered.
"An' she only lets him in the house to shout at him."
Jack eyed Aunty Maria as she directed the men who were de-boning a tuna.
"I'm almost inclined to invite her to join the crew, if I didn't think she'd have the captaincy herself in a fortnight." The skinny man beamed with pride, then yelped as he sliced his finger.
Finally the crew were shooed out of the tiny kitchen while Aunty Maria began pulling out jars of spices- apparently pirates were not to be trusted with her secret recipes. The sun was warm in the neat little garden as they lounged against the back wall of the house, surreptitiously passing around a flask of rum and breathing in the air as it filled with the scent of allspice. Jack tipped his hat forward over his eyes, peering at the men from beneath it. They looked genuinely content, relaxing in the late afternoon haze with nothing to worry about on the morrow and the prospect of a proper meal before they turned in.
Perhaps it would be better to cool their heels here than in Tortuga. The twin mountains at the centre of the island rose green and stately inland, rugged lines against a sky that seemed cleaner and fresher than that which hung over their last port. A man could clear his head here, among the lemon trees and tamarinds; there was view enough of the sea to soothe any pangs, but the ground was solid, which could not usually be said of Tortuga- certainly not as the evening progressed.
It seemed he was not alone in his appreciation of the place; as they sat later, eagerly devouring the spiced fish and vegetables from which strange and unexpected flavours had been coaxed in the cooking, he spotted Gibbs looking wistfully into the forest. Ragetti of course was overjoyed, Aunty Maria finally relaxing slightly as he regaled her with (highly elaborated) tales of their travels through mouthfuls of tuna, but even Pintel seemed to have been taken in by the strange spell that the island wove with the stain of the setting sun and the whisper of a breeze through the low-growing sweet potato plants. Even being made to wash up couldn't shake the mood that had fallen over them all. Perhaps they could stay, at least for a little while.
The view of the sea from the front of the house truly was marvellous; he could see the Pearl anchored peacefully in the cove, framed by open blue sea that ran on seemingly forever in a race against the equally brilliant sky. Jack leant back against the wall of the house and drank it in.
"Nice, eh?"
He almost jumped at the sound of the old woman's voice, but kept his own composed.
"Not bad, I suppose."
"Benedict tells me you've been sailing that ship of yours all over the world. Is it as big as they say?"
He chuckled.
"Fairly large place, aye."
"Pity you still can't find what you're looking for in all that sea."
Jack snapped his head round to stare at her.
"Who says I'm looking for anything?"
Aunty Maria raised her eyebrows.
"Isn't that what pirates do? Sail the oceans in search of treasure?"
"Pirates," he said, with the hint of a sneer, "sail the oceans in search of other vessels to... relieve... of their cargo."
"Not been doing much of any of that either, from what I've heard." She gave him a challenging stare. "Your crew are quite a talkative lot, I've heard plenty this past week. They seem to think there might be something amiss with their captain these past few years."
His upper lip twitched.
"What do they know?"
"They live within a hundred feet or so of you every hour of every day. I'd think they might know a fair bit."
Rolling his eyes heavenwards, Jack sighed.
"What have they been saying then?"
"That there's a certain treasure that the great Captain Jack Sparrow wants very badly, like as not knows exactly where to find it, but he refuses to go after it. Probably held back by a lack of manners, by my reckoning." He mumbled something, hoping she took it for an apology as she continued. "I might be an old maid but I know a man in love when I see one."
"I am bloody not!" He instantly regretted swearing when she slapped him hard on the arm. "I-am-not," he repeated through gritted teeth.
The white-haired woman laughed.
"Of course not. And Benedict's no-good uncle is an angel from God."
"Anything's possible."
She slapped his arm again at that, though with less venom.
"And there I was thinking you were a grown man. What, you've had your two score years and you're still behaving like some fool boy with fluff on his chin?" Jack put an offended hand to his beard. "It's right and natural for a man to take a shine to a good woman, even a rascal like yourself."
He couldn't think of a fitting retort, and fell silent. She smiled.
"What is she like?"
"Beautiful," Jack murmured in spite of himself. "Well, she was last time I saw her. It's been three years; she might be covered in smallpox scars or hideous warts or something by now. Might have got really fat. Can't really say she's beautiful if she might have gone and contradicted me while I wasn't looking. If I were really that concerned about her. Which I'm not. What do you mean by 'she' anyway?"
"That nice Joshamee said her name was Elizabeth, and that you called her Lizzie. That she worked on your ship. Unusual for a woman, I'd have thought. Perhaps you thought she was bad luck too, and that's why you marooned her."
"I didn't maroon her," he replied indignantly. "I sent her where she'd be safe."
"From what?"
"From... from me."
"And you from her, I suppose you thought." Aunty Maria tutted and shook her head. "Very foolish boy you are indeed."
"I'd only have hurt her."
"Because of course sailing off and leaving the poor girl in England when even a crew of wretched pirates could see she was in love with you-"
"She wasn't." His voice had dropped to a low growl now. "I thought... I was so sure that she wanted... she was so much like me... but she walked away first, she still wanted her fiancé more than me, even when I..."
"Fiancé? You mean the boy who gave himself to the ocean?"
Jack stared incredulously at her.
"Have they told you everything?"
She laughed again.
"Anyone living by the sea's heard the name of Will Turner these past three years. I didn't know my Benedict had been caught up in it though. But no matter. You didn't think she might just have wanted to grieve for her boy, that you could have won her heart eventually?"
"She didn't want me."
"Like the sea doesn't want the moon to pull on it, I'd say." He frowned and she smiled knowingly. "Probably as much as you don't want to go and find her right at this very moment."
"I don't."
The old woman snorted.
"So what are you going to do when you leave St Kitts? Sail round the world again like a bunch of halfwits in a leaky bathtub? Keep on trying to persuade the crew there's nothing wrong until they finally decide to dump you on an island and be shot of a captain who can only just tell which way is up? Get yourselves all strung up, all of it to keep avoiding her?" She had moved to face him now, head craned up to stare fiercely into his face, one bony finger prodding his chest. "No-one else might dare to say it, but dreadlocks and gold teeth don't scare me. Grow up. Go and find her. Tell her you were a blathering great idiot."
He grunted, and looked away.
"Won't make any difference. She'll just say no, and then I'll be right back where I was."
"And if she says yes, you'll not be. Seems as if you can't sink much further down, you already brood far too much for someone whose name portside mothers still use to frighten babes. What have you got to lose?"
If she says yes... Jack closed his eyes involuntarily. If Lizzie were mad enough... If he were mad enough... he remembered teaching her to steer, when they were sailing back from Singapore aboard the Black Pearl, and even though he knew the end of the journey would be her reunion with Will, he had savoured it so.
She had looked right at the helm; he had enjoyed their lessons for more than just being able to get close to her without her flinching away and mumbling something about her betrothed. Watching her commune with the ship, feeling the way the ocean moved against curved timbers, seeing her attentiveness to lessons on the subtleties of currents and winds, he had felt an immense pride... and something else, that had swelled in his chest and caught in his throat whenever he looked at her, that had been sweet and painful and delicate and powerful all at once. If she were mad enough, he might feel it again.
He fumbled through his pockets for the key to the chest in which he’d locked the compass. It was time to set sail.
As they approached the dwelling, he spotted a small figure hunched over what appeared to be a vegetable garden. It straightened at the sound of their approach, and a tiny, white haired woman turned to face the motley group of pirates walking towards her house.
For a second she regarded them fiercely, then her gaze alighted on Ragetti.
"Benedict!" She cried, and ran with surprising ease towards him. The gangly man opened his arms wide for a hug, but reeled backwards as her palm connected with his cheek. "How dare you not visit for so long?! I have been out of my mind!"
"'M sorry Aunty Maria," he said, rubbing at his face. "I've been all over the world. I brought ye this!" From a pocket he produced a small ebony carving of a monkey.
She eyed it suspiciously.
"You stole it?"
"Never!" For once, he was actually being truthful. "I brought it all the way back from the East Indies for ye." He pressed the little ornament into her wrinkled hand, where she subjected it to a further inspection before stuffing it in the pocket of her apron. She then turned the same searching glare on the rest of the crew. Pintel attempted a wan smile when she gave him an extra venomous look, and she narrowed her eyes when she looked at Jack in particular.
"Well I suppose you ragamuffins will be wanting to be fed, hmm?"
"Why is it that she never said," Jack hissed, trying to pick a bit of potato peel out from under his finger nail, "that we would be the ones doing the cooking?"
Ragetti shrugged apologetically.
"'S bad manners to laze about an' let a poor old woman do all the work, Cap'n."
"Poor old woman my-" Jack fell silent as the woman in question approached, wielding a wooden spoon. She nodded approvingly at the growing pile of peeled tubers between the two men and walked on. He tried a different tack. "Bit old to be your aunty, surely? Thought Pintel was your uncle."
"Oh well she's me mam's aunty really, raised me herself after ma had to go back to work- can't be having kids about in her line o' business, really. Hates me dad's side of the family something rotten, Pinters is the only one she'll even let in the house."
There was a muffled cry as the pirate in question received a sharp rap from the spoon.
"That'll teach you to steal chayote! No eating 'til it's cooked! Always knew you were a no-good thieving rascal family..."
Ragetti snickered.
"An' she only lets him in the house to shout at him."
Jack eyed Aunty Maria as she directed the men who were de-boning a tuna.
"I'm almost inclined to invite her to join the crew, if I didn't think she'd have the captaincy herself in a fortnight." The skinny man beamed with pride, then yelped as he sliced his finger.
Finally the crew were shooed out of the tiny kitchen while Aunty Maria began pulling out jars of spices- apparently pirates were not to be trusted with her secret recipes. The sun was warm in the neat little garden as they lounged against the back wall of the house, surreptitiously passing around a flask of rum and breathing in the air as it filled with the scent of allspice. Jack tipped his hat forward over his eyes, peering at the men from beneath it. They looked genuinely content, relaxing in the late afternoon haze with nothing to worry about on the morrow and the prospect of a proper meal before they turned in.
Perhaps it would be better to cool their heels here than in Tortuga. The twin mountains at the centre of the island rose green and stately inland, rugged lines against a sky that seemed cleaner and fresher than that which hung over their last port. A man could clear his head here, among the lemon trees and tamarinds; there was view enough of the sea to soothe any pangs, but the ground was solid, which could not usually be said of Tortuga- certainly not as the evening progressed.
It seemed he was not alone in his appreciation of the place; as they sat later, eagerly devouring the spiced fish and vegetables from which strange and unexpected flavours had been coaxed in the cooking, he spotted Gibbs looking wistfully into the forest. Ragetti of course was overjoyed, Aunty Maria finally relaxing slightly as he regaled her with (highly elaborated) tales of their travels through mouthfuls of tuna, but even Pintel seemed to have been taken in by the strange spell that the island wove with the stain of the setting sun and the whisper of a breeze through the low-growing sweet potato plants. Even being made to wash up couldn't shake the mood that had fallen over them all. Perhaps they could stay, at least for a little while.
The view of the sea from the front of the house truly was marvellous; he could see the Pearl anchored peacefully in the cove, framed by open blue sea that ran on seemingly forever in a race against the equally brilliant sky. Jack leant back against the wall of the house and drank it in.
"Nice, eh?"
He almost jumped at the sound of the old woman's voice, but kept his own composed.
"Not bad, I suppose."
"Benedict tells me you've been sailing that ship of yours all over the world. Is it as big as they say?"
He chuckled.
"Fairly large place, aye."
"Pity you still can't find what you're looking for in all that sea."
Jack snapped his head round to stare at her.
"Who says I'm looking for anything?"
Aunty Maria raised her eyebrows.
"Isn't that what pirates do? Sail the oceans in search of treasure?"
"Pirates," he said, with the hint of a sneer, "sail the oceans in search of other vessels to... relieve... of their cargo."
"Not been doing much of any of that either, from what I've heard." She gave him a challenging stare. "Your crew are quite a talkative lot, I've heard plenty this past week. They seem to think there might be something amiss with their captain these past few years."
His upper lip twitched.
"What do they know?"
"They live within a hundred feet or so of you every hour of every day. I'd think they might know a fair bit."
Rolling his eyes heavenwards, Jack sighed.
"What have they been saying then?"
"That there's a certain treasure that the great Captain Jack Sparrow wants very badly, like as not knows exactly where to find it, but he refuses to go after it. Probably held back by a lack of manners, by my reckoning." He mumbled something, hoping she took it for an apology as she continued. "I might be an old maid but I know a man in love when I see one."
"I am bloody not!" He instantly regretted swearing when she slapped him hard on the arm. "I-am-not," he repeated through gritted teeth.
The white-haired woman laughed.
"Of course not. And Benedict's no-good uncle is an angel from God."
"Anything's possible."
She slapped his arm again at that, though with less venom.
"And there I was thinking you were a grown man. What, you've had your two score years and you're still behaving like some fool boy with fluff on his chin?" Jack put an offended hand to his beard. "It's right and natural for a man to take a shine to a good woman, even a rascal like yourself."
He couldn't think of a fitting retort, and fell silent. She smiled.
"What is she like?"
"Beautiful," Jack murmured in spite of himself. "Well, she was last time I saw her. It's been three years; she might be covered in smallpox scars or hideous warts or something by now. Might have got really fat. Can't really say she's beautiful if she might have gone and contradicted me while I wasn't looking. If I were really that concerned about her. Which I'm not. What do you mean by 'she' anyway?"
"That nice Joshamee said her name was Elizabeth, and that you called her Lizzie. That she worked on your ship. Unusual for a woman, I'd have thought. Perhaps you thought she was bad luck too, and that's why you marooned her."
"I didn't maroon her," he replied indignantly. "I sent her where she'd be safe."
"From what?"
"From... from me."
"And you from her, I suppose you thought." Aunty Maria tutted and shook her head. "Very foolish boy you are indeed."
"I'd only have hurt her."
"Because of course sailing off and leaving the poor girl in England when even a crew of wretched pirates could see she was in love with you-"
"She wasn't." His voice had dropped to a low growl now. "I thought... I was so sure that she wanted... she was so much like me... but she walked away first, she still wanted her fiancé more than me, even when I..."
"Fiancé? You mean the boy who gave himself to the ocean?"
Jack stared incredulously at her.
"Have they told you everything?"
She laughed again.
"Anyone living by the sea's heard the name of Will Turner these past three years. I didn't know my Benedict had been caught up in it though. But no matter. You didn't think she might just have wanted to grieve for her boy, that you could have won her heart eventually?"
"She didn't want me."
"Like the sea doesn't want the moon to pull on it, I'd say." He frowned and she smiled knowingly. "Probably as much as you don't want to go and find her right at this very moment."
"I don't."
The old woman snorted.
"So what are you going to do when you leave St Kitts? Sail round the world again like a bunch of halfwits in a leaky bathtub? Keep on trying to persuade the crew there's nothing wrong until they finally decide to dump you on an island and be shot of a captain who can only just tell which way is up? Get yourselves all strung up, all of it to keep avoiding her?" She had moved to face him now, head craned up to stare fiercely into his face, one bony finger prodding his chest. "No-one else might dare to say it, but dreadlocks and gold teeth don't scare me. Grow up. Go and find her. Tell her you were a blathering great idiot."
He grunted, and looked away.
"Won't make any difference. She'll just say no, and then I'll be right back where I was."
"And if she says yes, you'll not be. Seems as if you can't sink much further down, you already brood far too much for someone whose name portside mothers still use to frighten babes. What have you got to lose?"
If she says yes... Jack closed his eyes involuntarily. If Lizzie were mad enough... If he were mad enough... he remembered teaching her to steer, when they were sailing back from Singapore aboard the Black Pearl, and even though he knew the end of the journey would be her reunion with Will, he had savoured it so.
She had looked right at the helm; he had enjoyed their lessons for more than just being able to get close to her without her flinching away and mumbling something about her betrothed. Watching her commune with the ship, feeling the way the ocean moved against curved timbers, seeing her attentiveness to lessons on the subtleties of currents and winds, he had felt an immense pride... and something else, that had swelled in his chest and caught in his throat whenever he looked at her, that had been sweet and painful and delicate and powerful all at once. If she were mad enough, he might feel it again.
He fumbled through his pockets for the key to the chest in which he’d locked the compass. It was time to set sail.