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I do not own the characters who were in the movie, I only own my Dutch import of the Cramp’s Smell of Female on 7” multicoloured vinyl. Not really worth suing for. I do have three cats, though, and if Disney wants the one who likes to pee on the kids’ karate gear, they can have her for free… this is not an admission of guilt – I just don’t want to have to replace any more sparring helmets…
New Plans
All was dark and cold, and Will was sinking in the water so he couldn’t breathe, bound so he couldn’t swim to the surface, frightened because the last thing he’d managed to see was Jack and Norrington in a struggle on deck, and he didn’t know who’d won. If Norrington won, he didn’t care that he was floating steadily in a downward direction.
The last few weeks, for all the turmoil and danger and difficulties, had been the best of his life. Without Jack there wouldn’t be much sense in swimming to the top anyway. He twisted in his ropes and only succeeded in tightening the part around his neck. The gag pried his mouth open, making it hard to keep the water out of his throat. Resigned, he tried to make his last thought a happy one, forced himself to picture Jack with a smile on his face. More of a devilish grin, really. Gold glinting in the sun. There was only a dim light around him, but he could see the glint as clear as if it were day. The last thing he would ever see.
If only that glint would set him free.
Jack’s dive into the water was graceful; not for show, but for speed. As he propelled himself downward he wasted as little effort as possible, concentrating on only one purpose, to reach the rapidly receding form of Will Turner.
He hoped Kay could get herself and her son off the Interceptor II before the Black Pearl attacked, which would be any second now, as surely the sun was rising. Because he couldn’t help them now. If he couldn’t reach Will, he wasn’t planning on going back up again.
Will blinked a few times, clearing the salt water from his eyes. He was on the deck of the Interceptor II. He recognized the wood, after having stared at it for so long. How on earth had he got there, and what was in store for him next? He noticed a scratchy woollen blanket thrown over his shoulders. So that’s why the wood grain was all blurry. He was shivering so violently. His mouth was dry, chafed at the corners.
But why would the navy give him a blanket? That was absurd; they would just throw him in the brig or tie him up again. Again? He wasn’t tied any more, although he could still feel the abrasions on his wrists and his neck, and his ankle was warm with something pressed against it. Or was he just fantasizing about the other night again? He moaned and turned his head to look around.
Gillette. With his sword out. Damn.
But where was Jack?
He heard a familiar panting, and rolled onto his back. There, crouched above him, was a thoroughly soaked and thoroughly pleased Captain Jack Sparrow, still catching his breath from the long dive but grinning, flashing gold for all to see. “Almost lost you there, luv, but I won’t let you get away that easily.” He cut away the last bit of rope from Will’s ankle with the knife Will recognized as the one he kept in a clever sheath on the inside of his boot.
“It wasn’t your tooth glinting, it was the knife,” Will murmured.
“Eh?” Jack leaned down to push the matted hair off Will’s forehead, so he could drop a relieved kiss there. “You gone a little daft, luv?”
Will swivelled back to look at Gillette again. His sword was indeed drawn, but it was pointed toward a supremely angry Commodore Norrington, who was tied to the mast quite securely.
An unexpected sight, but most welcome. Will fell back onto the deck, exhausted. Jack gathered him up in his arms, and Will was safe.
On shore, Alphonse crossed the beach to the rest of the injured, behind some sheltering boulders. He saw part of Franklin, struggling to get to his feet even though his leg was bound tightly to staunch the flow of blood from a gunshot wound. A dark man with a brand seared onto his bare shoulder held him down. “I have to get to Kay!” he insisted, pushing back at the man who held him down.
“Franklin, stay still, you are badly injured,” an authoritative voice commanded, and Alphonse stopped dead in his tracks. A familiar voice.
Matthew knelt down and checked the bandage. “I can’t believe you tried to swim out to that boat. You would have killed yourself.”
“My wife is out there!”
“We have seen what is happening on board. Kay is fine, and so is your son. And it is no use complaining to Okonkwo, he doesn’t speak a word of your language.” Matthew said something in a rich, low tone and the other man nodded, and elevated Franklin’s leg.
Alphonse found the nerve to step around the rock just as Matthew looked up.
They were both frozen for a moment, with the struggling Franklin completely forgotten.
Then Matthew rose and stepped around the injured man and his caregiver. He stood in front of Alphonse, a little thinner than the last time they met, with a few new scars and the ugly brand showing on his shoulder, but just as tall and handsome as ever.
Alphonse reached up and touched just his fingertips to Matthew’s cheek. He couldn’t speak.
Matthew reached out as well, and put his large hand against Alphonse’s chest, reassured by the rapid but steady heartbeat he felt there.
“Seven years,” Matthew whispered.
Alphonse nodded, blinking back tears. “Eternity,” was all he could say.
Kay and Franklin were ensconced in the captain’s quarters on the Black Pearl, since Franklin’s leg injury was one of the worst sustained by any. Even the guard Jack threw the knife at was recovering nicely, although he was locked securely in the brig with Norrington and the rest of his crew. Except for Gillette and that pair of bumbling oafs who, as soon as they’d realized that Jack was fighting so hard because Will was his lover, had switched sides immediately and aided in the confinement of the rest of Norrington’s crew.
Jack manned the wheel, thrilled to be back in control of his ship. He hummed a piratey tune and swayed to the invisible rhythm. Anamaria approached him warily. “Know you don’t want to give it up, Jack, but I figured I would take over for a while.”
Jack gripped the wheel possessively, fingers sliding over the wood, sinuous and smooth.
“Will’s awake again.”
Jack let go the wheel and lurched down the steps to the deck. Will was propped up in the shade of the stairs, where he’d been napping in the soft folds of a sail salvaged from the sunken ship. Okonkwo knelt next to him, feeding him some broth.
“Stand aside, lad, I know how to take care of him properly.”
The healer just stared at Jack, unwilling to give up his role. This was his job, and now that he was finally allowed to perform it he wasn’t going to let some filthy, ragtag pirate take over.
Will smiled and squeezed Okonkwo’s hand, murmuring something Jack didn’t understand. The man shrugged and handed the mug to Jack reluctantly, muttering something sinister that Jack knew he didn’t want translated.
“Doesn’t like me much, does he? How the devil did you learn to speak to him?” Jack settled himself next to Will, taking a pale hand in his.
Will gave one of those brilliant smiles that made Jack feel warm and not altogether stable inside. “It’s been three days, Jack, one would think you would pick up at least a few words.”
“What did you say to him?” Jack lifted Will’s hand to kiss it, gently, not salaciously, there were too many children on board.
“‘Everything is alright, he loves me’. I think.”
Jack actually blushed a little. “Did you really say that to him?”
Will nodded shyly. “I might have just said you cared about me, I’m not entirely sure. Whatever it was, it made him trust you enough. He takes very good care of me. This salve he mixed up is a miracle. Look, my wrists are almost healed.”
Jack ran gentle fingers over the pink marks where rope had cut into Will’s skin. The scent of tree oil and herbs wafted up, mixing in a fresh and not unpleasant way with Will’s essence. But Jack would be happier when he could smell Will and Will alone.
He fingered the marks some more. “Norrington is below deck,” he said in a gruff low voice. “I could go down there and…”
Will shushed him. “Jack, please, it’s over. We’ll get rid of the Commodore and his men as soon as we can, but not that way. I’ve caused Elizabeth enough pain as it is, without leaving her a widow. Let’s not talk about that, Jack. What are you going to do when we get there?”
Jack slid his arm under Will’s shoulders and settled back against the sail with him. “First thing I’m going to do is find a safe berth for the Pearl. Then I’m going to kick all these bloody relatives and pirates off my ship and spend at least a week alone with no one but you. But I don’t even know where we’re going. That scoundrel Alphonse is leading the way, I’m just following.”
Will raised his head to see the other ships, one on the left, the other two on the right. They traveled in a loose formation, wary but not worried. Two of the most dangerous ships in the navy were not a threat, since Alphonse and Jacob were piloting them. Mr. Gibbs had taken charge of the Matthew for the time being. Much debate had gone on about how to deal with the navy men scattered throughout the various brigs. In the end, it was decided to send them home, unarmed, on the Matthew. Alphonse didn’t need it any more, now that he had the real Matthew. The new settlement would keep the Interceptor II, and Jacob would take the Dauntless, a worthy ship to sail the seas in and carry on his brother’s noble work of attacking slave traders. About half of the freed men and women wanted to go with Jacob, the rest were to settle with Kay’s family on the new island.
Gillette stood on the deck of the Dauntless beside Jacob.
“I really am glad you saw the light, old chap. I would have hated to lock you in the brig with the rest of them. Always liked you, Gillette.” Jacob looked much more comfortable now that he’d discarded his navy uniform for a looser shirt and trousers.
Gillette, still in uniform but without the wig, shrugged. “You can only go along with things you know are wrong for so long, and then you must take a stand. Besides, I always liked you, DeMaurier.”
They stood side by side for a long time, saying nothing.
Jacob remembered three days earlier, when Gillette had come aboard. He was efficient as he moved from person to person, tending wounds and checking that the men previously under his charge hadn’t done anything too untoward. He’d seemed grimly satisfied when he ascertained that Norrington had been the worst of the lot.
Jacob recalled seeing Alphonse and Gillette in deep discussion, argument even, about how to deal with the prisoners. To Jacob’s utter shock, it was Alphonse pushing for more lenient treatment. They’d reached something of an agreement by the end of the day, when the crews were being distributed among the various ships. In fact, Gillette stepped rather too close to Alphonse and asked if he might be a part of his crew.
Jacob had been amused by Gillette’s forwardness. It wasn’t like him to make a move like that. He’d watched Gillette be enthralled by Norrington for years, never daring to say a word about his feelings. And there he was, almost throwing himself at poor Alphonse, who had no idea how to deal with the lovesick sailor.
A problem solved nicely by the growling Matthew, who wedged himself between the two and suggested, not without hostility, that perhaps Gillette would be more comfortable serving under the younger DeMaurier captain, on the other ship.
Charlotte emerged from the captain’s cabin on the Black Pearl, Kay’s youngest child balanced on her hip. Kay followed, looking well with only the bandage on her wrist and a bruised temple to show for her ordeal.
“Oh, there you are Will. We were just discussing how to deal with the issue of runaways, and Charlotte here came up with a simply brilliant idea.” Kay gave Charlotte a fond look. The two of them had been thick as thieves since the moment they met. “But we may need your help. It’s the problem of the slave brands. You need to make a new one.”
One of the women stepped forward, with her son beside her. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.
“I figured out a way to alter the brands, both of them so they look the same. And then you could say you belonged to someone else.” She held out a piece of parchment with a design scrawled on it, combining the different elements of the brands.
The woman looked at her with scorn. “I don’t belong to anyone, I never did!”
Charlotte gave a brilliant smile. “Oh, love, we can’t have the navy showing up to take you away can we? We can forge the paperwork that says you’ve all been freed. But the brands give you away. The new brand will give you a new identity.”
The woman looked at her doubtfully, and the little boy shrank away. “But it hurts.”
Kay knelt down. “I know, but a little hurt could make you free.”
The boy shook his head. “You don’t know, you’ve been free all your life. You don’t know how much it hurts.”
Jack moved toward the boy and held out his arm. He rolled his ragged sleeve up his arm, revealing the pirate mark branded on him years before. “I understand,” he said.
The boy stared in wonder. He’d never seen a brand on white skin before. “They did that to you?” He touched a finger to the pale skin.
Jack nodded. “And I’ll make you a deal. If we decide on this plan, and it sounds like it might work, I’ll get the brand too. Just so you know you’re not alone.”
“Really?”
Jack nodded solemnly. “Do we have an accord?”
The woman pulled her son away from the pirate. “This is ridiculous. They would never believe it, not without someone to testify they’d set us free.”
“What about Charlotte? She could say she set her whole plantation free.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Kay, I think you were hit too hard on the head. Only the wealthy own slaves, so only the wealthy can set them free. No one would ever believe she,” he rolled his head in a dismissive gesture in Charlotte’s direction, “was some sort of a high toned and fancy sort. She’s a harlot!”
Charlotte huffed, tossing her red hair defiantly. “Better me than you, filthy pirate. And I’ll have you know I had quite a high toned and fancy upbringing! I can act the part of a real lady; before I came to the Caribbean I was brought up on a fine estate.”
“Then what were you doing selling yourself in Port Royal, your highness!” Jack sneered. He was thoroughly tired of the harlot and her brilliant ideas.
Kay shot a warning look at Jack. “You’re not one to talk, Jack.”
Charlotte set a calming hand on Kay’s arm. “Don’t vex yourself, dear. I know how I must look sometimes. How could he know that I had no choice but to leave my home? My father, aristocratic as he was, he was quite awful. A hateful and violent man.”
Jack grimaced, remembering his own hateful and violent father. “Just be thankful you didn’t have my father,” he muttered.
Charlotte laughed, one of those nervous laughs from someone remembering a close call. “I’m sure he couldn’t compare to mine. He’d already driven two of my siblings away by the time I was young. No one’s temper matched that of the Earl of Duncroft. But the past is in the past. What do you think of the plan?”
But there was no response from Jack. At the mention of his father’s name he’d fainted dead away.
Next: Chapter 41 Sense and Senses
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