(no subject)
It would be nice to say our relationship changed dramatically after that night in the office. It didn’t. In many respects, it was worse, because now we both had something to lose; some days, when he was out on the Mercury, and I, for some reason consigned to the office by the new governor, was signing, in my position as Acting Commodore (not that that was what it actually got called), a pile of reports two foot high, my mind would wonder to where he was and whether he was caught up in a skirmish at that very moment, whether he was…
I had two regular nightmares. One was waking up late for work. I’ve had that one in various permutations ever since I joined the Navy- the rising bell failing to wake me and such like. The other generally involved the Mercury, coming home, without Andy.
Anyway, I must stop being so maudlin.
I had been promoted to Captain almost the second we set foot on the dock. The purpose of that, I discovered, had nothing to do with my devotion to duty or competence, more to do with needing someone they could put as Acting Commodore. So. There we are. And here we are a few months after that.
A knock at the door,
“Governor Wilkinson to see you, sir.”
I tossed aside a sheet of paper, “Yes, thank you Mr. Boscher… Mr. Boscher?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I don’t suppose there’s been any news from the Mercury has there? It’s been a month or so now...”
Mr. Boscher’s son was the boatswain. He gave a grimace, “no, sir. I shouldn’t worry too much though, sir… “ Mr. Boscher is around fifty. He sees everything and knows everything.
“You’re right, of course.”
“You’ll of course be the first to know if any pigeons get in.” Mr. Boscher also understands everything and everyone. Better than everything and everyone know themselves.
Governor Wilkinson ducked, presumably out of habit, in to the office. He was very tall, very broad shouldered, a remarkable politician for his age, remarkably unmarried and thus the object of desire of every unmarried woman on the island over the age of eighteen. I was a little suspicious of him. He was pleasant enough, but he was too… energetic.
“Ah, Acting Commodore! Still at it, at this hour?” For instance.
“Yes, sir. Just a bit more and then I will return to my quarters.”
“You ought to be careful- all work and no play, what? Mind you, the papers do mount up so, if you don’t keep a handle on things. ” he was a bit like a dog really. A big, bouncy, enthusiastic Collie.
“Well, there’s a lot to do. Especially after Commodore Norrington’s death…”
He drew out a chair, almost knocked it over, apologised and stood up again, tried to lean on the wall caught his shoulder on the nail that served as a coat hook. He was the second son of a lord. He had second son problems. I was the second son of a land owning farmer. I understood his second son problems.
“Bad business that. Knew the fellow a little, of course. Never seemed the duelling type. Didn’t hold grudges much. Always the peace keeper when I knew him. I understand he was a chum of yours, out of uniform. First name terms and all that. Must have been quite a blow. Can’t say I’m sorry Lord Beckett’s dead though. Never did trust the man. Sort you wouldn’t trust around your daughters. Or your sons.” I didn’t raise my eyebrows at this openness. It would have been impolite. Besides, the upper classes are entitled to say what they like. “Still, it’s a pity it came at such a price.”
I realised then I was not likely to see James again. Ever. “yes.” My voice was quiet. James bound for England. Andy off chasing pirates. It was supposed to be my turn. That’s what James had said. “He was a good man, a good officer, a good friend.” Perhaps when I retired…
“Yes, indeed. Must say I always liked him. Fine old chap. Straight as an arrow. And of course, now we need another one. Commodore, I mean. Actually, that’s why I came here. Got a letter for you, notice of your promotion, no doubt.”
It was. Down there in writing. Notice of promotion for one Theodore Groves. To…commodore?
“Sir. There must be some kind of mistake. This says…to commodore? I’m to be in charge of the fleet?” My heart had stopped beating. “I’ve only just been promoted to Captain…this is….”
“Yes. Bit of a rushed job really. No one really wants to worry about here. And you were highly recommended by old Norrington.”
I sat staring at the piece of paper. My hand shaking.
“You have anyone to celebrate with? Seems quite the night for it.” I…was ….a….
I hadn’t. I had a few friends in the Navy, but none outside. Some back home of course. But none on the island.
“No? Tell you what! Rattling about that great house on my own is deuced lonely, come back for a drink, hey? I’ll wait for you to finish of course.”
Three hours and three bottles of brandy later, “Adrian” and I sat in his expansive parlour, in shirt sleeves, our shoes kicked off in front of the fire.
“So, we’ve all got our rifles aimed, but we don’t fire, because we know…we just know it would be wrong to fire, and besides the order hasn’t been given and he balanced on the edge of the wall, trying to be so suave. ‘gentlemen’ he says, ‘you will all remember this as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sp- ho’ and he falls backwards into the sea!” Adrian laughed and leant forward, “he sounds like a chap I knew at Eton. Had the most fantastic way with words. Masters didn’t stand a chance. Nor did I, now I think of it.” I laughed, too loudly, to cover my unease. Yes, we all knew what went on in public schools, but you weren’t supposed to talk about it. Especially not to subordinates you barely knew. That wasn’t the worst thing though; the worst thing was he was leaning ever so close to me, and I was lonely and wanted Andy, and he wasn’t coming home for another month, and Adrian was hardly being discreet, and kissing him would have been so easy.
He seemed to sense my discomfort, because he suddenly drew himself up short, “Goodness, look at the time; I think I must retire soon.”
I coughed, “yes, I must be… “
“The ceremony should be in three weeks, I think… I’ll tell you more closer to the date.” I pulled my shoes on, slightly drunkenly,
“Thank you… sir…Adrian. It was really a lovely evening. It was nice having somebody to celebrate with…normally, it would have been Andy, but…”
“Not at all, Captain Groves… Theodore. The pleasure was all mine.” He shook my hand at the door, and we held on for just a little too long.
That night, in my room, I prayed for the first time in years: Dear God, give me the strength to remain faithful to him. Dear God. Bring Andy back to me.
***
I have a guilty secret. In the weeks after the duel, between getting well enough to tar decks, to being able to climb the rigging again, I started writing music. That’s not necessarily the secret- although I hadn’t written anything for so long, they were short and not very good. It’s ….the secret is…You mustn’t tell anybody- they were about Jack. All of them. He’s so….perfect. For music I mean. His fluttering hand gestures, his stupid walk… I could set them all to a series of quavers and slurs. So I did. I had to test my ideas in secret, when no one was around, I would sneak Rag’s violin, which he had early on agreed I could use whenever I wished in return for my teaching him how to tune the bloody thing, make amendments, and quickly scribble them down on a piece of paper I had ruled off like manuscript paper. I kept the papers hidden in my hammock, where they certainly wouldn’t be discovered. It was one of those unbreakable laws. You. Did. Not. Look. Through. People’s. Things.
They were only games and exercises. Nothing serious. Jack was a good subject. A good model.
It was like us really. Not that there was an us you understand. But what we had were only games, I think. Nothing serious.
I didn’t want to leave Jack. At all. I didn’t even really have to, now that Beckett was dead. But I had some obligation to my brother.
Only… he was very odd with me these days. Sometimes, he would barely speak to me for days- Norrington! He’d bark. And I’d reply, Sir?
And then some nights, he find me after my watch, and take my hands and bury his face in my neck, and lead me back to his cabin… I couldn’t understand him.
And yet I couldn’t stop watching him. He was never from my mind. I hadn’t felt like this since…..oh….since Elizabeth.
Yes. Elizabeth...
The Turner’s wedding was….strange. Far more enjoyable than the majority I have been to. Especially my sister’s. That was probably the third worst experience of my life.
It was held a few days after our stop at St. Malo. For those that don’t know, St. Malo is a town at the end of a spit of rock on the coast of Brittany. At high tide the spit is covered by the sea and the town is cut off from the mainland completely. It is a walled fortress of a town, the streets narrow, the houses pressing in on you, looming at you. There is no space to build out so people build up, and everyone lives practically on top of each other. It is easy to defend and difficult to attack; a hive of pirates and thieves, prostitutes and the dispossessed. Jack had spent most of the evening drinking and flirting with pretty barmaids. I had grown bored, and climbed to the top of the town, to sit on the battlements. A short while later, Jack had joined me. We didn’t speak.
Someone had found Elizabeth a deep red dress, of a style of my mother’s generation, buried in some sea chest, and William a long coat, and a new shirt. Together they looked the perfect pirate lord and lady, Elizabeth radiant over her swollen belly. Any day now, I thought. Any day now. The ceremony was refreshingly short. Jack dispensed with the majority of the sermon (praise be), sticking to, “Do you both swear to love, cherish, honour and satisfy each other for the rest of your natural born days, except in cases of adultery or intolerable cruelty- you do? Of course you do. Right, in that case, what God, or rather, I, which fortuitously happens to be one and the same, has joined, let no man, or woman, or beast, tear asunder, except under aforementioned circumstances. Do you have some type of ring, bracelet, necklace, tattoo, or item of clothing you wish to exchange as a symbol of this- you do? Good, exchange them. I pronounce you man and wife, wife and man, a legal couple, capable of having legitimate children, because that sort of thing is important to you lot. So, gents and lady, let’s break out the rum! Mr. Norrington- some form of wedding jig, if you please.”
The closer we got to home, the tighter my chest felt. Then, I put it down to excitement. And to be fair I was. The air felt different, colder, crisper. As I was the only one absolutely certain of the bearings, Jack allowed me the helm, on good days. I say on good days, because they were few and far between. It was on one of the bad days that It happened. This particular bad day was a day or so before we were due to make port. The great sandstone cliffs were visible on the horizon, every contour and line exactly as I remembered them. I had made some rather innocent remark to Jack and he cut my rum ration and set me off tarring the decks. Will, Elizabeth and I were sitting in the food store that had been converted into a makeshift cabin, the closer Elizabeth got to Jack’s rough estimate of the delivery date.
Will and I were having a heated discussion on whether…. I forget, seems a bit irrelevant in the face of what happened afterwards.
“um… James…Will…” Elizabeth tugged at my sleeve. We kept arguing. “James! WILL!” I looked at her, she looked at me, I looked down. There was a dark, wet stain, spreading over her stolen trousers.
“Oh. Bugger.”
Things happen rather quickly after that. When the contractions started, I offered to go and get Jack myself, although frankly I wanted nothing to do with the man, but Will said he’d go. I know sod all about babies, and was quite frankly terrified; but it was nothing to what Will was feeling. After all, this was his fault. As he ran off, Elizabeth grabbed my hand, and goddamn her, she squeezed. “James. Am…I..go-going…to sur-argh-vive?”
I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer.
Jack rushed in, skidding through the door, “Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie! Norrington- get out of the way- no, wait come back- stand there! No, there! Hold her under the armp-..Ooo… god, why did Will have to marry such a skinny hipped… no offence meant. madam…. Dear God! There’re four legs.... oh….oh, I see…congratulations William, my boy- hold this. now, Liz, this might hurt a bit… but…. We’ve got to massage the head…it’s the second one see… it’s just little backwards…”
Six and a half bloody, noisy hours later, Elizabeth was holding her daughter to her breast, tired and jubilant, drifting in and out of sleep. Will was clutching his son, a dazed expression on his face- a type of “where’s that from, then?” look. Jack bloody to the elbows, smiled up at me, forgetting himself for a moment, I smiled at him. Will sat by Elizabeth, and they rested on each other. I passed Jack a bit of cloth to wipe the blood off.
“Let’s give them some privacy, Jack?” I wanted to say….I don’t know. He’d handled all that far better than I could have. He nodded and followed me out. I opened my mouth, to say let’s not fight, not now, but when I reached for his hand, he pulled away, muttering about having a ship to run.
We anchored a little way off the coast, and rowed ashore. Elizabeth, having replaced her breeches and shirt for a simple dress, coat and hat, and the thus far unchristened twins wrapped up warm in shawls and sailcloth, Will, Jack and I, in one boat, the rest of the crew packed into the others. Will and I rowed the choppy, winter water, wind whipping my hair. I called out orders to the other boats- keep close, there are rocks around. Straighten up a touch!
“Elizabeth, as wonderful as your father was, no son of mine will be called Weatherby!”
“Not even…William Weatherby Turner?”
Jack had barely spoken to me at all that day. “That’s got a lovely ring to it, you know.”
Will scowled, “I’ll think about it. What about our daughter?”
“Emmeline? Sylvia?”
I had decided against mooring the boat in the harbour. Better to drag them up-shore and leave them under the cliffs. We helped Elizabeth out of the boat, and up the beach, feet sinking into the pebbles, her children tucked to her breast, under her coat. The further East you go along this stretch of coast, the bigger the pebbles get. Smugglers and fishermen could tell where they were by the size of the pebbles under their feet. Here they were really very small, and ran to sand in some places. Jack dispatched his crew on various errands, with the promise of free run after they were completed and followed on behind the Turners and I. Walking through the town, I felt like a ruddy nursemaid, “will you keep up? I don’t want you wandering off and getting lost.” I waved to a few people, I vaguely recognise. Better they should know I was back. That way they could lie with a clear conscience should anyone come asking.
My house was quite a way from the harbour. It was a squat, squarish building, whitewashed, with thick walls. There were four bedrooms upstairs, an attic full of things of uncertain origin; a sitting room, with the stairs in the corner, a kitchen , dining room and pantry downstairs, a small, vegetable plot outside, and a privy.
I lead them through to the sitting room, a dark room, with an ill fitting carpet, a large fire and mismatched arm chairs. Throwing down my oilcloth sack that contained my uniform, a few things I had bought in St Malo and Tortuga, I first bustled about, taking stock- there was wood in the shed, no food (obviously), but we had eaten on the Pearl and I would go out to the market in the nearby town early. Feeling suddenly awkward, I hovered around the door, “A friend has been seeing to its upkeep the last twelve years…Won’t you sit down? I…or… ” Jack was strolling about the room, picking things up, putting them down again, generally in the wrong place.
Elizabeth glanced at the staircase in the corner of the room, “I must feed these two. And it is getting late.”
The babies had, indeed, started to grizzle and I cursed my negligence, “of course- if you go upstairs, the spare bedroom is on the right. There are bed clothes in the cupboard there. If you don’t mind, I must… go to my brother- alone, if that’s all the same- I will ask him to dine with us- tomorrow, if that’s acceptable? I will to the butchers tomorrow…”
They were already on their way upstairs, Elizabeth leaning rather heavily on Mr. Turner, “Yes… yes… perfectly.”
Jack put down the ornate dagger he’d been toying with, “I’d best be off too, mates. Find a bunk for the night.”
I feel I concealed my spirit deflating even further rather well, “oh- I’d assumed…that is to say you’re more than welcome to stay here for the duration.”
He shifted uneasily, “nah, Norrington. I’ve got a crew to control, and besides…I’ll be heading off soon enough.”
The Turners paused on the stairs, Emmeline and William Weatherby ( one can barely suppress a shudder), still whimpering. For god’s sake woman, go and feed your spawn. I stiffened and bowed my head, “As you wish. Good day, Captain Sparrow.” And I strode purposefully out the door, every inch of me conveying….purpose. Not at all feeling ill used. Not in anyway. If that was the way Sparrow wished to behave, then far be it from me to stop him.
****
I swayed out as nonchalantly as possible, making sure he saw me sway. And when I turned the corner, I set my face in a scowl of thunderous anger, and set off to find the nearest swill hole.
I had planned my evening thusly- find somewhere that sold very cheap, very strong rum, get absolutely rat-faced, then stagger about town. Probably singing. Probably Lizzie’s song.
Three and a half bottles later and I was making my winding way up the west cliff, which was on the opposite side of town to the hole where I’d bought something half approaching cat’s piss.
“Drink up me hearties…ho yo!...eh…yo ho!”
I sat on the edge of the cliff a little way up and threw rocks at the beach. What kind of beach is pebbles anyway?
I should’ve said I’d stay…’sa nice old place, sure enough, and Jamie and I both knew that when he said “you’d be welcome to stay” he meant “and there’s plenty of space in my room”….
‘s not my fault though… I only wanted to have a little bit of fun, with a handsome bloke…didn’t mean to fall in lo-oops. Tell you a secret though, lean in closer. Closer. Thass right. I did love ‘im, even then. Shhh. Mustn’t tell…
A few bits of cliff fell off, and I watched them tumbling to the ground.
People like me don’t go around falling in love. Doesn’t happen. We use people as we see fit- if they fall in love with us, more fool them.
I han’t really planned what I was goin’ to do afterwards. Maybe spend a spell in France… Ireland... ultimately, I wanted to go back to where it was hot all year round, and the rum flowed like water and you didn’t need a jumper.
“We chindle and kar... igflame and enight”
Jesus. Lizzie. Night before last. Her twins. Tell you another secret- I thought see might die. See, the upper class of the female variety is divided in two- those with the type of build and constitution what could give birth to triplets on the back of a camel, and those who are very skinny and frail, who tend to be carried off by head aches. Lizzie falls in the middle. She’s got the stamina and mentality of the camel-birthing variety, but the type of frame that leads to problems in birth. She was just unlucky that twins run in the family somewhere along the line.
After William Weatherby (ye can’t but shudder, can you? What is it with the upper classes and names?) beat his way into the world, there was still another inside her- little Emmy had her head up the wrong way, kind of sideways on. I didn’t let on, but I thought mother and babe were done for, honestly. But managed to massage her round, and neither is worse for wear.
I learnt about how to midwife when I was pretending to be a eunuch and working in the harems of the king of… no, somehow, I didn’t think you’d believe that. Oh well. I’ll not be telling you the truth, though.
Wind pulled at me, trying to tug me off the edge of the cliff, and it started to rain. It ran down the brim of my hat, and soaked into my trousers.
I continued to drink.
A little while later, I heard another bit of rock hit the beach.
***
Hello. I know I’m late- always am. Had a bit of trouble getting here…coachman… fell…or something. Damn roads haven’t been repaired since my father’s time. I know this is normally the part where Captain Gillette or the newly Commodore Groves tell a bit…but they are both aheh otherwise engaged. And I’m not, more’s the pity. Ah well, such is life.
However, I know you’re all dying to know whether or not I succeeded in my evil seduction of Teddy…or should that be whether or not Teddy succeeded in refusing me… I don’t know.
His relationship with Captain Gillette was relatively well known, among certain circles. People always mistake covert for not known about. I, dear me, I never thought for a moment that it was anything other than a relationship of convenience. That sounds odd. No relationship like that between two men is ever convenient. But. No, I don’t think I’d have had the courage if I had. Not that I did much you understand. There wasn’t really much seducing going on.
Andy should be bally proud of Ted. He’s not a naturally faithful person by nature, I feel; you know…sort of roving eyes, you know.
I came up to meet him, when he was supposed to be finishing work. The marine on duty let me in, and yes my heart leapt a little when I saw him smile, when he saw me.
“Governor Wilkinson! What a pleasure.” I sat down.
“You are still coming to dinner, aren’t you?”
He signed something, “of course. I am a man of my word Adrian.”
We sat a space.
“Right! Finished! Come on, let’s away. Good God, this place is depressing.” He leapt up, and something fell out of his pocket. I bent to pick it up, at the same time as he did,
“Oh, thank you.” We straightened up and looked down. I laughed a little. And then, I thought- oh the hell with it, nothing ventured, nothing gained. So, I leant in to kiss him, and for a moment he almost let me. And then there was a thunderous knocking the door, and he pulled back.
“Yes! Come in!”
An unidentified very young marine, raced in looking flushed,
“ Commodore! The Mercury’s back. All in one piece. She’s just pulling into the harbour now, sir. Sir- look sir, that’s me brother on the riggin’ there. Oh, and Captain Gillette at the helm.”
His lips quirked up in a smile, “Alright Mr. Rogers. Go ahead. I’ll be right along.”
He saluted, positively shaking with excitement- I thought, for heaven’s sake it’s just a boat.
“Sorry Adrian. I’ll have to…I can’t come tonight. You know…” he completely failed to look upset. But it was okay. I knew why.
“Some other time.” I looked at the thing in my hand. It was a sketch of a naval officer. “I never stood a chance did I?”
He gave a brilliant smile and shot out of the door. I heard him trying to control his pace to a calm stroll, befitting a commodore.
He failed.