Fathoms 6

Elaborate Game

by

Manic Intent

Much of the accoutrements of the captain's cabin had been stored rather haphazardly in the hull (his Jamie had been appalled at the cavalier treatment of the books, and had reorganized that himself), and by now it rather resembled a mobile version of Tia's cottage. It had seemed only gallant to give the lady the use of the only bed in the ship, whilst Jack and Norrington made do with carpets and the bear pelt in the ladies' cabin. His Jamie had refused, at first, to sleep in a so very feminine room—had even been willing to sleep on deck instead—and had to be persuaded via the means of saucy whispers in stolen moments. Finally, what with a small personal guard (also insisting on) following their mistress, the small ship had become very crowded indeed.

He frowned as he recalled his last exchange with Tia.

"How'd ye know that th'Kraken hadn't et me? 'Cos that chase ye set Bootstrap's son on, ye 'ad t'be mighty sure that I lived."

"Jack Sparrow... the land in the jar, youse remember? Tia use that. Tia see."

"Then why'd ye remark that I'd survived?"

Tia's smile had been sly, as she stole a glance at Norrington, where he stood directing some attendants in sign language and slow, patient English on the proper way of working the sails. "There be many ways t'be lost, Jack. That man, maybe he show you some time."

All further demands as to her meaning had been met with an enigmatic grin, and he'd finally given up in disgust to retake the helm, left to his own thoughts.

So it was with mixed relief that Jack sighted the shoreline of Tortuga, and steered their ship into a sheltered inlet. Which, to his irritation, already held a couple of other ships—smuggler's ships, by the looks of them—but which seemed bent on leaving them alone; even edging away surreptitiously, likely thinking the ship belonging to some rich (and heavily guarded) lord out on a tryst. The pirate captain stroked fingers absently over the compass at his waist as he leaned his chin briefly on the wheel with a sigh. He was sure the Gods, if there were any, liked to torment him most cruelly.

Although he had managed to persuade Jamie to share that small room with him, he'd been unable to actually do anything about the... or, as Norrington put it so succinctly, he had not been successful in any attempts on his virtue. Norrington proved to be positively skittish at the very thought of engaging in any sort of debauchery with so many people crowding the small ship and in earshot. Certainly an unforeseen problem. And Jack was painfully aware that time was running very short indeed.

"Here?" he asked Tia brusquely, who was frowning at the cloud-wreathed sun down at the deck, obviously rather disgruntled that Jack had voted in favor of Norrington. Some attendant had moved up a chair, and she lounged on it, fanned by two others who held long palm fronds, as though Queen of all she surveyed. Norrington leant on the mast, facing her—the both of them had, Jack noted sourly, gotten along very well during the voyage, the question of nightfall or daytime machinations excluded. On some occasions he'd caught them looking at him, and Norrington would smirk, while Tia would laugh and murmur something. It was all very annoying, and he felt exposed, without his Pearl physically with him.

"It be good enough," she said, getting up and looking over the rail. Her attendants fanned a little faster as they moved to her side. Jack shook his head sadly at the foibles of strange little native tribes. "Youse be showing th'heart to the sea now." That, she directed at Norrington, who nodded and reached into his coat. He held a small felt bag that Jack was sure that he'd seen before somewhere in the clutter of Tia's home, and from it, he drew that rather disgusting lump of still-beating flesh. He reached into another pocket, and drew a small dagger sheathed in polished wood.

"Davy Jones," Norrington spoke in a clear, cool voice. "Attend me."

From behind the wheel, Jack shook his head and made cutting actions with his hands to indicate that, as introductions went, that was not a very diplomatic thing to say. And then had to stifle a yelp as the man (or monster) in question materialized on deck, tentacles slithering as he glared at the ex-Commodore.

Davy Jones was as furious as Jack had ever seen him, a sibilant hiss having worked its way into his voice, but he was stiffly polite as he addressed Norrington. "And what'd ye want o' Davy Jones, good sir? After having stolen me ship..." his voice trailed off as he saw the voodoo mistress. "Tia."

"Youse the second t'call me dat in a year an' a day, an' nowhere as welcome," Tia's voice was flat. "I come to see you do by your word. The ship be mine now."

"How?" Davy Jones snarled, whipping his head over to glare at Norrington, his pincer-hand snapping ominously at his side. It seemed to Jack for a single, frightening moment that, heart be damned, Davy Jones was going to exact his revenge, and to his surprise, found himself speaking.

"That would be me," he stepped out from behind the wheel and sidled quickly to Tia. "And I borrowed your ship. Wi' every intention o' returnin' it t'the original owner, or one of. Which would be her." He gestured floridly at Tia, who smiled thinly.

"Jack. Sparrow." The words bit out, sibilant with hatred. If looks could kill...

"An' far be from me t'interrupt our touchin' reunion, but ye got yerself a situation, mate," Jack said quickly, pointing at Norrington, who seemed to be eyeing the heart in his hand, and the dagger in his other with equal interest.

Davy Jones took in a deep breath, the (gill? Breathing tentacle?) tube at the side of his mouth dilating. When he spoke again, his voice was tightly controlled. "So. I ask ye again. What ye be wantin' o' me, sir?"

"Firstly, I'd trouble you to raise the Black Pearl from the depths as soon as possible, and return her into the safekeeping of Captain Jack Sparrow, here in Tortuga," Norrington said with the practiced care of any lawyer. "Secondly, you will pledge to trouble him and his ship no more, directly or indirectly. Thirdly, after accomplishing the first task, you are to take yourself and your men back to the island where your heart was previously stored, and there await further instructions."

"And am I to have any idea as to what these 'further instructions' be, sir?" Davy Jones drawled, fury etched into each word, the tentacles of his beard writhing like panicked snakes.

"No. You may go." A dismissal made in the smooth voice of one used to command. Jack entertained the sudden incongruous notion of how incredibly sexy that voice could be in the bedroom, and stifled it quickly. Distraction bad.

"Wait. I be askin' some time t'speak t'old friends," Davy Jones said quickly, glancing at Tia. Whose eyes narrowed. "Beggin' yer leave."

Norrington looked slightly nonplussed for a moment, turning to Tia and Jack for their opinion. Jack was shaking his head furiously, hands waving before him, but Tia tapped her lip with one black nail, and shrugged. "Tia talk to you. Here."

Davy Jones looked pointedly at the large numbers of curious hangers-on, including a pirate captain and an ex-Commodore. Tia chuckled, though the sound was almost ghostly in its cool disdain. "The cabin. Like old times." One of her guard looked as though he might protest vigorously, but she held up one slender palm. "Don't worry 'bout Tia." Tia spoke another brief line in her dialect, which seemed to reassure them, and they stood down. The two of them disappeared below deck; the clumping sound of Davy Jones' stride marking their place.

Jack wandered back to Norrington, who had already secreted heart and dagger back into his clothing. "Is that really a good idea, mate?"

"I'm not sure I can actually command Miss Dalma to do anything she does not want to," Norrington said mildly, "Bearing in mind, of course, my track record regarding bending to the wishes of the fairer sex." He frowned when Jack began ostensibly to sidle away. "Where are you going?"

"T'listen, of course," Jack flapped a hand at him impatiently. "Aren't you the faintest bit curious, man?"

"Eavesdropping is one of the worst forms of poor manners, Jack," Norrington said primly, though a faint, indulgent grin was pulling at his lips, as though he contemplated an adorable but unruly child. "Especially since this ship is now the property of Miss Dalma, and we are her guests."

"That's why I'd make doubly sure she don't see me," Jack said cheerily, and left. Or attempted to, as two of Tia's personal guard blocked his path. Burly natives dressed in a rather ceremonial knit of matching hunting cat skins, holding large spears.

"Tia say no one listen," a woman said from where she was arranging things on the makeshift 'throne', in broken English. "Pri-vate."

Jack was about to argue, but a hand clapped firmly on his shoulder, and he found himself being propelled to the helm back Norrington. "Bad manners, Jack." The other man seemed positively amused at the pirate's frustration.

"Maybe m'just worried 'bout 'er," Jack said innocently, attempting to look over the side of the ship, his mad brain contemplating some form of acrobatic climbing. The hand stayed put, warming his skin under the clothes.

"No."

"Y'say that too often t'me," Jack pouted, turning on his perceived tormentor. "An' ye've been right cruel t'me, ye have. Been so many days and t'aint nothin' but a few kisses. Enough t'drive a man off 'is rocker, it is."

Norrington sighed, his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache, the other hand moving to rest on the wheel. "I think we've already discussed this."

"M'don't think ye can scandalize a group o' people who walk about in leaf knickers, mate," Jack muttered accusingly. "An', yer goin' off t'Port Royal after this, remember? An' ye don't want me t'follow, an' ye may not come back. So what's a man got t'do?"

"All right, Jack, all right," Norrington said wearily, "I give in, just so you won't be unbearable and nag me constantly for the rest of the time we have together. How long did it take Davy Jones the last time to, er, raise your Pearl up from the depths?"

"Couple o' days. Mebbe more. M'was drunk fer most o' it in Tortuga. Bootstrap said t'was a couple o' days."

"And it took us a while to sail here from that island. So, even given the intervention of... magic, it may take time for the ship to arrive as promised."

Norrington leaned back against the helm, trailing long fingers down one of the protruding spokes in an extremely suggestive manner, and he smiled lazily. "And during that time, I will be at your complete..." a thumb circled the tip of the spoke, making Jack's mouth go dry, "...disposal." Almost as an afterthought, his Jamie murmured, "I do hope you know of some decent, discreet inns in that den of iniquity over yonder which can put up with us for the time being."

"M'sure we can find somethin' suitable," Jack purred, his eyes gleaming with renewed interest.

"'ow long?" Tentacles curled over each other as he seemed to think about it for a while. "Two days...a. Me crew an' I, we bring 'er to this very spot at sundown, in two days...a." An ugly laugh, as he glanced at Jack, but the notorious captain of the Flying Dutchman was very obviously unable to muster the mood required to inject any manner of menace in his words, managing only to sound bitter. "She might not be too shipshape, Jack Sparrow, but she'd float, m'sure."

Jack growled, remembering how the Kraken had so severely damaged his beloved ship, but before he could come up with a suitably cutting reply, Davy Jones vanished. Fury warred with worry as he thought about his Pearl, but at least she seemed confident—joyful, even, in anticipation. At least she missed him as much as he did her. That thought was reassuring. Allowed him to think of other matters, in fact.

"Tia. Can I be 'avin' a loan o' sorts, right now?" he asked, flashing a wheedling grin.

Tia snorted, the faraway gleam in her eyes disappearing briefly. "Jack Sparrow, youse no be cheatin' Tia out of any more o' her coin than needs be. Ye got a small stash or two on this island that ye can use fer other things. The ship, Tia help. Tia stay here, wait for Pearl with you, set up th'repair. That all she do for you."

"How'd ye know?" Jack blinked. It was true he had an emergency stash on Tortuga—most self-respecting pirates did, given how it was the unofficial base of operations for many ships—but he hadn't exactly counted Tia as one of those who would have known that fact. "All-seein' voodoo magic?"

"Youse talk in yer sleep when youse 'ad too much rum," Tia said maliciously, and winked at Norrington, who laughed.

"Tis a secret, Jamie-luv, an' ye'd best be promisin' ye'd forget 'bout it when yer Commodore again, or m'not lettin' ye see it, savvy?"

"My lips are sealed," Norrington said, an almost boyish excitement in his voice. Enough pirate in the proud ex-Navy officer, then, to be obsessed with treasure. Pity the 'stash' was actually rather mundane.

Tortuga in the late afternoon was a sleepy town, almost orderly. Merchants delivered goods from laden carts pulled by snorting drays, and the port's nominal cleaners made some effort to clean up the filth from the previous night's festivities, managing only to scratch the tip of the proverbial iceberg. The sun beat down on last night's victims of drink, who murmured in their sleep or hawked miserably in the foul alleys. Some rather shady looking characters conducted conversations under shop awnings in low voices, shooting them suspicious glances when they walked by. Jack took a firm grip on Norrington's arm when the other man's eyes narrowed in recognition at some faces.

"Yer 'ere at m'disposition, Jamie?"

"Yes, Jack," Absently, then another soft hiss, "Is that Rayle 'Sea Fox' Taylor? I thought he'd left for the South China seas! And that's..."

"Aye, love, aye," Jack patted his arm as he steered Norrington away from the more open parts of the dirty streets. "S'all pirates 'ere, come back from for'n parts t'Jamaica. Since ye've been gone from Port Royal." It rather surprised him that with so many men here that would have given an arm or a leg to kill the man currently at his side, Norrington had actually managed to survive in Tortuga long enough to be picked up by his crew.

"Really?" Norrington blinked. "You mean my reputation..."

"Keep it down, mate," Jack murmured hastily. "We ain't here fer trouble."

"You mean that after I resigned my commission all these pirates returned to Jamaica?" Norrington lowered his voice. "And so quickly?"

"Many o' us keep tabs on threats to us in our territory, Jamie-luv, 'specially the older 'uns. Ye probably couldn'a sneeze wi'out us findin' out." Jack smiled at Norrington's consternation, and then sobered quickly. This would probably only strengthen his Jamie's determination to return to Commodoring... permanently.

He was right. Norrington grit his teeth, and muttered a curse. "I should never have left."

"Actually, mate," Jack said, pulling them down another street, looking at the signs as he did so, "Might want t'rest yer fears on that. Beckett's set up shop in Port Royal, it seems. That's bad news fer pirates. Might be tha' all o' them there are just 'ere to settle some final debts, pick up their losses, an' leave fer good." The pirate smirked. "What we've got t'fear from ye? All men come t' an' end, and there's nowt an' old pirate who 'asn't thought o' th'noose as th'end of his career. Inevitable end. Execution fer ye, s'a clean death. Beckett, on th'other 'and... there's some things a man don't want t'go through before he meets 'is Maker."

"That's not very flattering," Norrington said dryly, though he seemed to have calmed down. "You're now telling me that I apparently don't have such a fearsome reputation against pirates as I'd thought..."

"And who's this friend of yers, Jack Sparrow?" a burly man loomed over them from where he had been lounging against a public well. Jack groaned inwardly. Almost a giant of a man, with a bristling red beard and beady little eyes, scarred cheeks and chipped ears nearly hidden by a large black hat, Captain Taver Halsh cut a picture that had been enough to frighten many a redcoat. Beefy fingers rested on the hilts of ornate pistols. "'e looks right familiar, he does."

Jack looked around quickly, but Taver's bloodthirsty crew seemed to be nowhere around. It looked like the Captain had merely been out for the mundane business of sorting out resupply costs. "T'aint nobody ye know. An' it's Captain Sparrow t'ye, Taver Halsh." Under his arm, Norrington tensed at the mention of the other man's name.

"T'aint Captain no more, is it, Sparrow?" Halsh smiled cruelly. "'eard about yer run in wi' the Flying Dutchman. Word travels fast, 'round 'ere."

"That's fer me to sort out, an' ye to find out later," Jack replied coolly, trying to pull Norrington around the big man, but Halsh stepped sideways to block their path.

"'Cos I couldn'a 'elp but listen t'some of yer yammerin', an' it seems that yer pretty friend 'ere could be somebody of our mutual... acquaintance. Late o' Port Royal, an' down on 'is luck. Could be he remembers sinkin' a ship out a ways from Kingston, years back." Small eyes stared at Norrington, who held his gaze with a glacial stare of his own.

Before Norrington could say anything about that, though, Jack held up a hand. "Suppose I prove he isn't ex-Commodore James Norrington, then?"

"I've got a sovereign that says ye can't, ye traitorous Navy-lovin' dog," Halsh growled. "I got things t'settle wi' the Hunter."

"All right. Watch closely." Jack grabbed the collar of Norrington's coat, and yanked the man down roughly into a bruising kiss, forcing his tongue into his mouth. Fingers slipped under his coat and pinched Norrington on the side, warning him to play along. After a moment's hesitation, he did so, growling and kissing Jack in return with only slightly restrained ardor. So, doing things in the earshot of barely clad natives was not okay, but public displays of affection in front of rather shocked looking giant pirates, was fine. His Jamie was proving to be a delightful tangle of contradictions. That he fully intended to spend two days unraveling.

He pulled away reluctantly at the end, trying to slow his heavy breathing, though leaving his arm possessively around Norrington's waist, and half-turned to grin wickedly at Halsh. "Now, d'ye think the real James Norrington would 'ave let me do that to him? Right 'ere an' now?"

"But... 'e even sounds like him," Halsh said incredulously.

"Actor, mate. Good actor. Amazing likeness, too, wi' makeup on." Jack smirked. "Now, ye'd be keepin' this t'yerself, eh, Cap'n Halsh? T'aint no man like others t'know 'ow 'e likes t'play when th'inclination gets him, if ye understand me."

Halsh surprised Jack by roaring with laughter, pushing a sovereign into his hands, shaking his head ruefully. "Yer a terrible man, Sparrow, an' madder than I'd thought, t'pull a stunt like this. I've got a right mind t'find the real 'un and tell 'im what ye've done."

"Right, right," Jack patted Norrington's arm. "Now, me friend 'Norrington' 'ere an' I 'ave some... unfinished things t'settle, preferably in private, so we'd be goin' along now." That elicited another deep rumble of mirth from the other pirate Captain.

When they were out of earshot of the big man, Jack glanced up worriedly at Norrington as the other man shook slightly under his grip, and then relaxed when he realized it was silent laughter. The wicked streak in the man had enjoyed that little charade, then. "I'm not sure if I should be scandalized, or... or insulted, Jack. I do believe you just implied, in public, in Tortuga, that I was some sort of whore in an elaborate bedroom game."

"Ye just be relieved that Halsh may be a dead shot with them pistols, but he ain't that good with thinkin'," Jack wanted to lecture, but found himself smirking, proud of his own cleverness. His ego was all but patting itself on the back. "And ye be careful now, ye might get all sorts o' callers if th'word gets out."

Norrington chuckled, then leaned down briefly to flick his tongue at Jack's ear and breathe, "I'm only interested in one of them."

Concentrate. Need money. Jack stomped down on the urge to push Norrington against the nearest wall and make him prove just how interested he was. And stopped short against a small, disreputable shop at the end of the street. Just in time.

At the counter, a rail-thin man with a lugubrious expression stared up at them with drooping eyes, pulling absently at his white, forked beard. Even in the musty light from dull windows, his skin hue and slanted black eyes marked him as a native of Cathay. "Captain Sparrow." A brief, questioning glance at Norrington, eyes narrowing into slits thoughtfully. "Mister Norrington."

"Actually, Lee, 'e's just a..."

The old man shook his head mournfully. "Do you think I am growing senile, Captain Sparrow? I am far from the Middle Kingdom, and so I while my time in the wilds collecting information." A flash of yellowing teeth. "Which, of course, is also my business, secondary to tea." He reached beneath the counter for a moment, then passed Jack a yellowing scroll, which unrolled to show a very accurate pencil sketch of Norrington—one sketch with him in full Commodore regalia, and the other in civilian clothing. Jack heard the other man gasp behind him. "But not to worry. I owe you debt for services rendered regarding jade unicorn. I have not told, and will not."

Jack reluctantly surrendered the scroll when Lee held out a wrinkled hand for it. "So, Captain Sparrow. Are you here to buy or sell tea?"

"I'd find meself in the need fer a couple o' pounds o' fine Ceylon," Sparrow said, inspecting his nails, ignoring Norrington's puzzled frown.

Lee nodded, and got up from his seat with the unhurried grace of the elderly. "I will see to my stock at once." He took a bunch of keys from his robe, and unlocked the door behind him, disappearing down the stairs beyond.

"What's this about, Jack?" Norrington asked finally, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Exactly what it looks like," Jack said innocently. "We are buying tea."

"And I'm a mermaid," Norrington drawled. "I thought we were going to look at your... stash of ill-gotten gains."

"I could check for tails," Jack waggled his eyebrows in a leer, ignoring the latter statement. "Later."

Lee chose that opportune moment to reappear, interrupting Norrington's sharp retort, locking the door behind him, his hands holding a small tin, which he passed to Jack over the counter. "Thanks, mate," Jack slipped it into his coat.

Lee inclined his head. "I am glad to see that the reports of your death are unfounded again, Captain Sparrow. Do come again."

Outside, Jack led them in his weaving walk down another street. At Norrington's soft growl, showing a fraying patience, he took the tin out from his coat, and opened it for the other man's inspection. Inside, cushioned tightly on cheap cloth so they wouldn't rattle, were some fine specimens of the coin of the Realm. To be safe, Jack immediately made the tin disappear again into his clothing. "Happy now?"

"A pirate's bank, disguised as a tea shop?" Norrington murmured, "Ingenious. But I don't understand how it is workable. Has nobody attempted to rob it?"

"He don't just do business wi' every'un—only wi' select clients, savvy? An', Lee employs some right vicious guards, 'e does," Jack said, shuddering slightly at the memory of seeing their work once, dumped in an alley. He'd had to get drunk for days. "They were present all th'while when we were doin' business."

"I didn't see anybody else."

"'Cos they don't want t'be seen, ye ken," Jack replied, impatient with the topic and with Norrington's curiosity. It was one of the open secrets of Tortuga, but only discussed in public by the foolish, seeing as how a pirate bank could easily come under the interest of the Navy. "And ye better be keepin' to yer word 'bout not spillin' it t'yer highers up, an' all, in Port Royal."

"I gave you my word earlier," Norrington reminded Jack, allowing himself to be pulled into an inn, chuckling a little wryly at the sign. "The Dancing Rooster. How appropriate."

The stout innkeeper nodded at Jack from where he was polishing tankards at the counter, politeness accorded to a regular, and Jack sidled over to slip a couple of coins over, which were quickly pocketed. "One of yer better rooms, fer two days. An' I don't want word getting out 'bout me bein' 'ere, savvy?" Another coin across the counter. The man nodded again, not even glancing at Norrington, passing Jack a numbered key.

The Rooster was more of an inn than a tavern, attracting men who would rather drink in silence and in peace from the barfights and brawls that plagued most of the other drinking holes in Tortuga. Not really Jack's type of place, but it also supplied a quiet, and more importantly, discreet place to sleep whenever the fancy took him to entertain, or just rest without having to worry about vermin. The place was plainly furnished, with stone walls and fresh rushes on the ground. Tables and chairs had been stacked in the corner, the place not being open for drinks as yet.

Jack all but dragged Norrington up the narrow stairs and down the balcony-corridor, and then into the allocated room. Locking the door behind them, he turned with a flourish to face his prize, and drawled, "Now, we'd be contemplatin', methinks, all manner o' meanings o' th'phrase 'at yer complete disposal', James Norrington."

Norrington looked abruptly worried, as it dawned on him that two days could in fact be a long, long time to be at the mercy of single-minded and inventive pirate captains.

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