Fine Men, Chapter 4
A Fine Line
by
Full headers in Chapter 1
"Eat, drink, and drink some more!" Jack warbled in his lackadaisical manner as he wandered about on the deck, carousing with the crew in the warm, misting rain close to sunset.
James watched from where he sprawled next to Thomas and George on some sacks of meal, eating bread and fresh fruit. Now that the Black Pearl was at sea, moving smoothly on the waves, Jack walked straight and true with none of his laughable prance.
It was the rolling of the sea, James realized. Jack's gait was so natural upon the pitch of the water that upon land it manifested in the bob and strut of Jack's body. Now that it was clear that the flounce and weave weren't just affectations (or at least not total affectations), James became more entranced, making note of how with the flip of a wrist or a twist of the hips Jack kept his perfect, graceful balance as the ship tossed upon the unpredictable blue sea.
"James?"
The commodore jerked slightly and glanced over to Thomas's knowing eyes.
"Did you hear a word we said, James?"
James shook his head, trying to appear casual though he knew he'd been well and truly caught out.
"These pirates are quite..."
"Privateers," James corrected absently before taking another bite from his apple.
George smiled slightly, obviously trying to hold back a full grin. "Privateers, of course. They're an interesting crew, aren't they?"
James turned his chin to watch Jack trying to get Will to take a drink of rum. When the young man kept refusing, James had to chuckle as Jack redoubled his efforts.
" 'Interesting'," James mused. "Such a broad connotation for such a multifaceted, motley bunch."
"I take exception to that," Jack announced as he stopped a few feet away.
James's lips quirked slightly. "I imagine you do," he agreed mildly.
Jack turned up his nose. "I'll have you know it takes quite a bit of work to maintain this bit of fantastic that is myself."
Thomas snorted and coughed to cover his laugh, but George was not so successful. James raised an eyebrow and looked Jack up and down as the pirate—yes, pirate—sniffed in the two Navy men's direction.
"Jack, can you truly tell me those clothes aren't the same as you wore the first time we met on the docks in Port Royal?"
"Of course they aren't the same clothes," Jack said, reeling backward in outrage. "I will have you know..." He stopped speaking as he looked down at himself and raised a finger indicating for them to wait.
The faded red headscarf was unmistakable, as were the beads threaded throughout his black hair that jingled with each step. His salt-stained cotton shirt hung open at the neck and revealed a vee of surprisingly muscled chest. The blue waistcoat had to be the same—buttons were missing from identical spots. The striped mess of a linen sash wrapped about his waist to cushion the wide brown belt that normally carried a sword and sheath. The brown leather pants clearly showed worn creases where they tucked into sturdy but scuffed black boots.
Jack frowned deeply and looked up at James. "How did you know that?" he asked suspiciously.
Thomas and George broke up laughing again as James just raised both brows and gave Jack a smug smile. Apparently Jack had not noticed the commodore studying him as far back as then. Granted, at the time it was to assess a threat. But the details still stuck in his mind.
"I'll have you know I change my clothes quite often," Jack stated, propping one fist on his hip.
"I thought perhaps you took a swim to wash away the sweat," James said innocently.
"Now see here, Commodore..." Jack cut himself off with a sneer and a humph, sending Thomas and George into gales of laughter.
Jack shoved a bottle into James's face. "Here, you, if you're going to disparage me, at least be decently half-drunk and do it with panache."
James finally grinned; he took the bottle, pulled the cork, and took a healthy swig. It was an achievement, he knew, to one up Jack like this. The pirate's wily and nimble mind often allowed him to outtalk anyone.
"There now," Jack said as he met James's sparkling, merry eyes. "There's my Jamie."
The bedamned nickname. James snorted as Thomas and George looked back and forth between the captain and the commodore.
Will chose that moment to stumble upon their little cadre, obviously having imbibed from a finally-accepted tankard. "Why are you two staring at Jack and the commodore?"
Thomas blinked and opened his mouth, but nothing came out before Jack piped, "The commodore here fancies that I wear these same duds upon my person at all times," he accused, pointing a wagging finger at James.
Will looked confused. "But you do."
Thomas and George broke into laughter once again, and even James chuckled at the astounded look on Jack's face.
It was priceless, James admitted, seeing the fanciful flibbertigibbet speechless, even for just this short moment.
"I see I shall have to prove myself all over again," Jack muttered. "Come along, Commodore, and I will show you my varied collection of apparel. After all, one cannot go to Singapore in such a poor jacket as I wear to invade the likes of Sterret Cove."
"And Isla le Muerta. And Tortuga. And Port Royal..." James started ticking off on one hand.
Jack rolled his eyes expressively. He reached down and grabbed James's arm, physically hauling him up and towing him toward the captain's quarters. The two lieutenants watched in amusement from where they sat in the shelter of the stairs until the doors shut James and Jack firmly inside. They glanced at each other as Will wandered off.
"Do you think James has any idea?" Thomas asked as he leaned back into George's arm.
"Any idea that he's taken more than a passing fancy in a certain pirate?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Me, neither."
"Think the pirate knows?" George asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Thomas huffed. "Pi-rate!"
Over in the cabin: "Make yourself at home, James. Mi casa, su casa," Jack said with a flowery bow.
James glanced around as he moved to sit at the table. The room hadn't changed from the quick glance he'd given it on his tour of the Black Pearl a few months before. Jack walked over to a recessed cabinet and pulled out two more squat bottles.
"There, you see?"
The commodore realized he'd been staring at Jack again, watching how he moved rather than his body itself. "See what?" James managed to ask.
Jack pointed, and James turned his chin in that direction to see a chest and wardrobe bulging with colorful fabrics and several pieces of broken-in leather.
"I see I shall have to correct myself in front of the others tomorrow," James said with a wry smile. "You must admit, however..." He nodded to Jack's current raiment.
"I suppose," Jack said, bringing two glasses and the bottles to the table before stepping surefooted to the trunk despite the stronger shift of the ship's balance. James glanced to the windows to see the surf splattering on the glass. Now that he thought to listen, he could hear the rain falling more steadily outside.
The captain poured the rum and shifted one glass toward James before he joined the commodore at the table.
"Where did you find all that?" James said, looking over the wide range of colors and fabrics that spilled out of the wardrobe.
"Here and there, thither and yon," Jack said, waving one hand expansively. "I see many a port, you know, James. Both here and in far foreign lands."
"Here and there in sunken coffers, thither and yon from merchantmen stores?" James asked with narrowed eyes.
"Privateer," Jack reminded him, toasting him with his rum.
"Pirate," James answered significantly, earning a wide smile from the man sitting across from him.
"Always with the lovely compliments, aren't you, James?" Jack said with a twinkle in his eye.
"Perhaps, perhaps not. There's a fine line between pirate and privateer, Jack," James said quietly. "I think we both know how closely you walk it."
Jack didn't answer right away. He held his rum in hand and looked across the table at James, obviously considering his words carefully. "There's always a reason for a man to choose which side of the line to stand on, James," Jack said intently.
James sat back, looking over the pirate who sat a matter of feet away. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Jack so still and serious about anything, even when pleading his cause to go after Barbossa. "Like the line between friends and enemies," the commodore said.
"Aye. Like the line between comrades and confidantes," Jack confirmed. He smiled a bit. "Life is full of lines, as it were."
"Choices," James murmured, wondering when Jack had become such a philosopher.
"Full of choices," Jack agreed. "Look at us, for example."
James chuckled. "Indeed. What a mishmash of choices led us to this moment."
Jack tutted. "Mishmash," he huffed. "First, we were enemies. A pirate and a commodore, with no other relationship than your authority and the brand on my arm. Then we were allies in the fight against Barbossa."
"Uneasy allies, as I still intended to clap you in irons the first possible moment," James said wryly.
"I'd have been disappointed if you hadn't tried, you know," Jack said with a small grin. "Even if it did get me within spitting distance of the gibbet."
James winced. "Jack, I'm sorr..."
"Nay, James, none of that. 'Twas who we were then, and above all else—to thine own self be true," Jack said with a twinkle in his eye.
The commodore raised an eyebrow in appreciation of Jack's literary comment. "Haven't we had this conversation?" he pointed out. "That not all of us are so lucky as you?"
Jack sniffed and waved a hand. "And once I escaped the noose—"
"With help."
"Not saying it wasn't," Jack said defensively. "After I escaped, the lines changed again. You were the hunter, and I was the dashing prey."
"Until you weaseled your way back into Port Royal to get that Letter of Marque Elizabeth finagled out of her father," James said crossly.
"Come now, James, surely you can see the good that's come of it," Jack wheedled, pouring their glasses full again.
James sighed. How he had come to like this crazy man so well he just didn't know. "I suppose so," the commodore answered.
"So then we were allies again, albeit contentious ones," Jack said with a smile.
"Lord," James muttered, throwing back the rum.
"And then the lines changed again."
"Actually, then you scuffed away the lines and redrew them," James corrected, remembering how Jack insinuated himself into his life with just two visits.
"And what's wrong with that?" Jack posed.
"You can't just change the lines arbitrarily."
"Ah, but I did, James, I did."
James stared at Jack speculatively, knowing full well Jack was right. He considered how his own views and opinions had changed since meeting Captain Jack Sparrow; it seemed Jack mused about something similarly engrossing. They were both so lost in thought that they missed noticing the growing storm until Gibbs came and banged on the door.
"Jack, the rain's gotten worse, and we think a squall's snuck up on us!"
The captain glanced to James before setting the bottle down, grabbing his hat, and making for the main deck. The commodore was close behind.
The night's advance had hidden the darkening clouds, and now the water tossed as the wind whipped at it. The crew scurried to batten down the Black Pearl, and James joined Jack up at the wheel. They both peered into the swiftly approaching storm.
"Get those sails down before we blow over!" Jack yelled.
"Where did it come from?" James asked loudly. The night was black around them; the storm even blocked out the full moon.
"I've no idea—the skies were clear," Jack answered. They were now both soaked by the pounding rain and fierce wind. "James, help Will there." He nodded to where the young man, along with Gibbs, struggled with several ropes to help bring down the main sail.
The commodore took off down the stairs, clutching at the railing as he nearly went sliding. Moving again, he saw George helping Thomas into the captain's quarters and nodded in approval as he took two ropes from Will and hauled down on them.
But the more they fought, the more the ropes knotted. "We have to cut it down," Will yelled over the worsening storm.
Gibbs nodded and looked around, but the rest of the crew was far too busy keeping the ship afloat. He turned to look at Will and James. "There's no one to climb up there!"
Swearing, James reached out and pulled the sharp dagger from Gibbs's belt. He knew what had to be done. "Hang onto those ropes," he ordered them. Then he turned and struggled to make his way across the pitching deck to the mast and rigging. In the blowing rain, he could see the clouds rode so low that they shrouded the tops of the sails. He stuck the knife between his teeth and started climbing as fast as he could.
The storm enveloped the Black Pearl, tossing her on the sea's furious waves as the crew tried to keep the ship sailing against the tide. Jack hung onto Pearl's wheel as long as he could before the worsening storm knocked him away. He tumbled down the stairs and slid across the deck, only stopped when Gibbs reached out to break his momentum. The captain got to his feet and looked around, seeing his first mate and Will both hanging on the ropes, trying to keep control of the huge sail.
"Where's James?" Jack called out over the storm.
Will raised his arm and pointed up toward the mast. Jack's chin lifted and his eyes widened as they tracked up the mast to see James climbing the rigging in the full wind.
"Jamie!" Jack yelled. "What are you doing?"
Gibbs grabbed the captain's arm as the rain whipped them both. "The ropes are caught, we have to cut down the sail!"
Jack's face was still turned upward, clearly showing disbelief and no small amount of fear. Will and Gibbs looked from the captain to each other and back to Jack.
Hands curled tightly around the hempen ropes, James spared a prayer of thanks that he was on the Black Pearl and not one of his own ships—the British used waxed ropes, and he surely would have been knocked from the rigging thrice by now. He kept moving until he reached the crow's nest and threw his leg over the wooden railing to take advantage of its tiny measure of protection.
Reaching up, James had to stretch to reach the huge knot of ropes that kept the sail up. Each buffet of wind tried to toss him from his dangerous perch, and James prayed the entire time, wanting to see the deck again, wanting to see calm seas again. He wanted to see Jack again, curse that pirate who kept changing all the lines between them. He kept sawing with the dagger.
The three men on the deck hung onto the ropes while peering up into the darkness. It was impossible to see James, but still they tried. Then without warning, the ropes went slack, sending all three men rolling as the main sail came crashing down.
Gibbs hit the meal sacks while Jack rolled against the stairs. But Will went skidding farther on the wet, slippery deck, right past Jack's grasping hand, and through the spindles of the stair railing. He caught himself with one arm—it was all that kept him from going overboard.
Partway down the rigging, James heard Jack yell Will's name. The commodore peered down through the geyser of rain that splashed from the waves up against the Black Pearl's side. He could see the younger man clinging to the railing, trying to find some purchase.
Then a powerful wave hit Will and swept him into the sea.
Jack swore and pulled off his belt, throwing it to the side before rushing to the railing.
"No, Jack, no!" Gibbs yelled, catching him by the arm. "You'll never get the depth to pull him up by jumping from here! The waves are too much!"
James watched as a barrel hit Will and knocked him back under water. He spared one more prayer as he jammed the knife into the mast and clambered away from the rigging while forcing himself to pant unnaturally. If Will were killed, Elizabeth would be devastated. James couldn't let that happen.
The pirate atop the stairs stared into water, making out the sight of Will surfacing and splashing blindly. "William!" Jack wiped the rain from his face and looked to both sides of where they stood. He rushed for the pool of rope that had crashed to the deck and started to lash it to the mast, then about his waist.
He looked up just in time to see James plummet from high up on the mast down into the churning black water.
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