A subtle, unfamiliar noise, and Jack's eyes sprang open in the darkness of his cabin. He lay quietly, listening intently and feeling the slight roll of the ship around him. Pearl was at anchor, pulling restlessly against her tether despite the calm water and still air.

There it was again: low, like a splash and a slither. Something in the water, then, and not too far from Pearl's black hull. Whatever it was didn't sound too threatening and Jack debated getting out of his comfortable bunk. The rather large quantity of rum consumed a few hours before roiled unpleasantly in his stomach, and he considered the possibility that the noise was simply a figment of his saturated brain.

The discomfort recalled to Jack's mind the reason for his imbibery of an entire bottle, and a bit more, all by his onesy. He glanced to his right, the empty space beside him reminding him as well, and he sighed.

He'd left Port Royal in a, well, royal huff. He just couldn't figure out the Commodore. Aboard Pearl, James seemed quite capable of putting aside his navy rank and rigor. The wig came off (and generally was tossed indifferently into a trunk), the coat was left behind, and the Commodore became just James. Quick to tan, quicker to laugh, and most quickly to lead Jack into his cabin with a wicked leer. Clever, long-fingered hands would rapidly divest Jack of his clothing; a favorite trick of James's was wrapping his leg around Jack's and tripping him backward onto the bed...

But that wasn't happening on this particular voyage; James was still in Port Royal and, presumably, equally pissed off. He rolled his eyes and stared at the hanging knee above his head where was carved the date, nearly a year ago now, when they had first shared this bed. Yes, James aboard Pearl was a delight, and not only in Jack's cabin. James was a capital seaman, and their discussions of hydrography and the natural philosophy of the oceans often ranged far afield and long into the night. But once ashore... mother of God, but the man was near intolerable.

When James regained the land and the discipline and the coat and the fucking wig, well, quite frankly, Jack didn't much like to be around him. Scowling like a thundercloud, he insisted Jack stay out of his office and away from the fort, but then he seemed perfectly willing to let Jack skulk into his rooms in the dead of night, like a thief or a brigand. Or a pirate, Jack thought with a rueful twist of his lips.

Another soft splash. As if it would aid his hearing, Jack sat up and threw the light covers aside. He held his breath, but heard only the lap of wavelets against the wooden hull and the creak of the standing rigging. Slouching back to rest on his elbows, he again turned his thoughts to James.

Jack couldn't fathom the change that came over him, and that was the crux of the biscuit. Oh, he knew all about Jam—, no, the Commodore's responsibilities, and they'd long gotten over the "Pirates must die!/But I'm a pirate!" problem. If only James would treat him the same whether they were on shore or at sea. He thought of their last conversation: "Captain Sparrow, you cannot simply sashay into my office in the broad daylight. You are, you may have noticed, a pirate and I cannot permit such behavior within the very fort."

"'Captain Sparrow' is it? 'Sashaying' am I? I'll tell you what I have noticed, mate, and that's you not minding me sashaying about buck naked not a week ago. Tired of me so soon?"

"Jack. You know it's not that. I cannot remember when I've enjoyed a voyage more. But I have responsibilities here, as you well know, one of which is the suppression of piracy in these waters, which makes it damned inconvenient to have a pirate as a lover. If I am to successfully turn a blind eye toward the infamous Jack Sparrow—thus sparing my career, your life, and our relationship—I must maintain plausible deniability. I cannot do that with you lounging about my office."

"Then perhaps I should leave. Never let it be said Jack Sparrow was a bother to any man."

James had looked at him for a long moment with an unreadable expression in his green eyes. "Perhaps you should."

And he had, immediately and without another word to James, gathering his crew from the harborside taverns with little more than a look and a growl. That was three days ago, but he had gone no farther than this secluded lagoon. The crew had left him alone to drink and to brood, which he had done with unceasing determination and admirable success. Too distressed to go further and too proud to go back, he was utterly brought by the lee. Taken aback. Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. And many other nautical expressions meaning he didn't know what to do or how to fix it.

Another gurgling splash, louder this time, and Jack got out of bed. Pulling on his trousers but disdaining any additional clothing, he padded out on deck and looked around. The lagoon was quiet and the air fragrant with the blooms of tropical flowers near the beach. A moon just waning cast strange shadows, patterning the deck with elongated designs of masts and shrouds. The clear, glassy water was alternately indigo and azure where clouds and moonlight danced their slow tango.

He'd chosen the anchorage because it was sheltered, isolated, and, most importantly, not Port Royal. The calm conditions had inspired him to let the crew have a sort of holiday and now they were, to a man (and woman), quite unconscious. Jack looked forward to where the lone watch perched on the gammoning of the bowsprit. At least he was awake, although too far forward to hear the soft splashings that had called Jack on deck.

A liquid plop and a soft susurration turned his attention to the starboard quarter. Jack lurched toward the rail, absently plucking a half-empty bottle of rum from its roost on a stanchion. Tipping the bottle to his lips, he looked across the expanse of water toward the beach beyond, scanning the wide bay for the source of the strange noises.

And there, in the moon shadows, a slight commotion of the waves. Jack lowered the bottle and focused on the swirling water; it looked as if a large creature had just sounded. Only a dolphin, perhaps, though he hadn't heard the tell-tale exhalations. Maybe a shark? Or a sea turtle? The bay was too shallow for a whale, he thought, but stranger things had happened.

As he watched the water, two heads broke the surface. Long, dark hair swirled around their necks, and at first Jack thought them to be women. Broad shoulders and muscular forearms emerging from the water, however, showed the figures to be quite masculine. Startled, Jack moved to call a 'man overboard' warning, although he didn't recognize them as part of his well-known crew. And that's when he saw the tails.

Jack gripped the rail and stared. No doubt about it, those were fishtails attached to the men's waists. He warily regarded the bottle in his hand and gingerly set it down. When he looked again, the creatures were floating on the surface, bathed in moonlight, and he could see them quite clearly. One appeared to be slightly larger than the other and his hair several shades darker. A long, elegant greenish tail languidly fanned the water, occasionally flicking above the surface to make the odd splashing sound. The other figure floated alongside the first, easily differentiated by his amethyst-colored, though equally graceful, tail. They appeared not to notice the man watching them not a stone's throw away.

Jack looked toward the moon, wondering if he'd finally succumbed to its charms and become a lunatic. But then, not much surprised him anymore, what with personal experience of cursed treasure and undead skeletonized pirates. And then there was the part where he'd actually been one of those himself. He returned his attention to the fantastic scene in the water and, leaning on the rail, he watched to see what these creatures would do.

They swam together in wide circles near Pearl's side, either at the water's surface or just under. They were entwined together and Jack initially thought one might have been ill or injured. Then he realized they were embracing. They wrapped their long arms about each other's torso, slick muscles rippling in the soft light. Their tails tangled together, gleaming scales making a soft ssshhhrrrick as they slid against the other.

Jack watched the creatures and was awed by their beauty. He had heard of mermaids, of course, but was skeptical of the tales. Certainly, he had never seen one himself. Until now, and these were no maids. As he stared, the larger one pulled the other close, bearing him under the waves as they kissed. Jack's hand slid into the loose waist of his trousers. As his hand closed around his hardening cock, it occurred to him that these mermen, these seamasters, could not be unaware of his presence. They could disappear at any time and yet had chosen to disport themselves in front of him. His hand tightened.

The figures pirouetted, creatures of water and light. Jack's hand moved steadily, stroking and sliding in unconscious imitation of the seamasters he watched. They kissed and nuzzled, their tails twining and slithering, hands lingering where hips would be. Pulling each other closer, they rubbed together, their lower bodies moving in an ancient dance. Jack's hand moved faster, and he gasped at the sight and the sensation.

The creatures came to a lingering stop nearly below him. Jack gripped the rail hard, spreading his legs to brace himself as his own hand wrung groans from his throat. At the low noise, the seamasters looked at him for the first time. The larger one smiled slightly and turned in the embrace of his partner. A hand came around him to grip where hip would meet groin on a human man and pulled him sharply back. The dark purple tail wrapped the green one from behind, steadying the pair as the creature behind thrust strongly.

Jack watched, hand pulling and thumb stroking over the leaking head of his cock, as the seamasters arched together. Thickly muscled tails strained and pulled, and their hands clasped. A low sound like a guttural moan carried to Jack over the water, and the creatures gazed at him with rapt and fathomless intent. Jack came, his eyes dazzled by the glow of moonlight on scales the exact color of James's eyes.

*********

Jack awoke in the bright light of day, the sun already high in the sky. The crew, fearful of his recent black mood, had not awakened him and he still sprawled on the deck most indecently. He stood and looked over the blue water where the scene from the night before had played. The seamasters were gone, of course. Whether dream, or trick of the light, or rum-induced hallucination, he didn't know and didn't much care.

He thought of their long, fluid bodies buoyed by the sea, their sensuous lovemaking, and that last intense look. Merfolk, he had been told, were immortal. Having had some small taste of that himself, he knew of its lure. The two beings he had witnessed could spend eternity flowing together through the oceans. But Jack had given back the coin, and all he seemed to have for it was a sticky hand and an aching heart. He had but limited time on the ocean, and here he was squandering it in petulance and pride.

Jack called the crew from their torpor, and Pearl's anchor soon was dripping at the cathead as she turned her head toward Jamaica.

**********

Jack moved discreetly through the back streets toward the fort. Not skulking, he told himself, merely taking a road less traveled. His mouth quirked as he thought how many ways that particular expression applied to his life. Reaching James's office, he made sure that he had no other visitors and then slipped in through a side door.

James, caught unawares, stared. "You're back. Oh, thank God, Jack. I was so afraid... I mean to say, I thought that..."

Jack stepped close and silenced him with a kiss.

"Jamie, luv, let's go swimming."