Fine Men, Chapter 11
A Fine Kettle of Fish
by
Full headers in Chapter 1
Beta: Nancy
Beta: Nancy
"My mind is quite set, Weatherby," the admiral said.
"But Admiral, I really must protest," Governor Swann said, following the Navy man out the double doors and down the stairs, a bit harried and his long wig bouncing. "Surely the commodore has well earned some time to recuperate from his injuries."
"The man would appreciate a visit, I am sure, especially one from his commanding officer," the admiral said, continuing down the steps, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Admiral Whelan, please let me reassure you," the governor said as he stutter-stepped to walk alongside the portly man. "Commodore Norrington is almost surely at rest, especially this early in the morning. Wouldn't you allow the man a pair of days to somewhat recover!"
Unfazed, Whelan stopped at the carriage. "Nonetheless, I must insist that I convey my delayed apologies. Although he was nigh unrecognizable, dressed up like some pirate—"
"Privateer," the governor corrected as they climbed into the carriage.
Whelan sniffed. "Privateer. A mess, traipsing about like some common scallywag—"
The governor was hard-pressed to stifle his snort, instead wrinkling his nose when the admiral peered at him suspiciously. "Ah, just so," he murmured.
"Yes," the admiral asserted, settling himself on the bench as the carriage lurched to a start at his direction. "That being beside the point, the man is quite the brilliant strategist, and I now can see how the reports of his ineptitude were quite incorrect. After all, pirates are quite the plague here, are they not? Yet under Norrington's protection, Port Royal flourishes."
"Ah..." Governor Swann said, his voice a bit strangled.
"Yes," the admiral repeated. "A fine kettle of fish he has to deal with here. But obviously he has worked up a strong network of connections to be able to summon together such a force of the common people as rescued us."
The governor's face was by now quite red. He'd had to sign off to pay the privateers, of course, not that he would mention it now. Or ever. "Just so," he said again weakly.
"So tell me about the esteemed commodore and how he secured the help of such a privateer as this Sparrow fellow I have heard tell of," Whelan said.
Weatherby sighed and leaned back. "Well, it all started about two, two and a half years ago..."
==
"What do you mean, he's not here?" the admiral puffed.
The commodore's butler raised one brow and glanced to the governor. "He is not here, sir," the man repeated.
"Then where is he? This is his home, is it not?" the admiral blustered before turning to the governor. "Weatherby, I thought you said the man would be here resting."
"Indeed I would have thought so," the governor hastened to assure him. "But perhaps he suspected visits such as this, not only from us but from the grateful residents of Port Royal, and so he retired to a quieter location?"
Whelan harrumphed. The butler tipped his head to one side before speaking. His voice was quietly respectful although it carried a note of expectance. "Perhaps, sir, you would allow the commodore the better part of a week to recover? He is quite exhausted after all the work he put into the plan." The governor nodded enthusiastically, giving the man at the door a thankful smile.
"Be that as it may, I am resolved. Come, Weatherby. Where might the commodore be? The fort, perhaps?"
The admiral turned down the steps, leaving Governor Swann to nod to the butler and sigh before following.
==
"I do apologize, sir, but he's not here," Lieutenant Gillette said as he rose from James's desk. He looked past Admiral Whelan to the governor with a questioning look on his face.
"The admiral wishes to convey his regards and offer an apology for his..."
"It was an accident, is all," Whelan asserted briskly, and Governor Swann rolled his eyes.
The lieutenant's lips twitched. "Of course, sir."
"Do you know where the commodore might have taken himself to, Lieutenant?" the admiral posed.
"Ah, perhaps you might ask Mrs. Turner?" Thomas Gillette posed, shifting uncomfortably.
The governor swooped to the rescue. "Ah yes, Elizabeth. She and the commodore have many friends in common." Thomas relaxed and gave the governor a pathetically grateful smile.
Whelan seemed pensive. "Ah yes, as you said, they almost married, isn't that so?"
Now both Governor Swann and Lieutenant Gillette shuffled awkwardly. "Yes, Admiral," Weatherby said. "Although, may I say, that's quite in the past and they remain good friends."
"Admiral, the commodore's injury, though not severe, is quite painful. I am sure you could see clear to allow him some time to recover—perhaps a week? His tasks were considerable in preparing for your arrival," Thomas said.
"Considerable? I see," the man answered. "A week," he murmured. "Well, we're off to see Mrs. Turner," the admiral said, turning and marching out of the room as if dismissing Thomas's suggestion out of hand.
"Governor..."
"It's quite all right, my boy," Weatherby said, smiling a bit and nodding before turning to follow a huffing, red-faced Whelan.
==
"Elizabeth isn't here," Will said. "She went to the market for fresh fruit for dessert tonight, she said, determined to pick it out herself."
"Admiral," the governor said, "the morning is gone on us. Perhaps we should allow the commodore some peace..."
"Nonsense, Weatherby, as I said, I will not be deterred."
"Sirs," Will injected, "have you asked Ja..."
"James's lieutenants?" the governor asked, effectively cutting Will off. "Yes, we spoke with Lieutenant Gillette." Will blinked at his father-in-law, who eyed him with a near-glare.
"Lieutenants? As in more than one?" the admiral asked.
"Lieutenant Groves, sir," Will said slowly. "He's probably at the docks."
"Indeed," Whelan said drily before sniffing. "Do you think your wife knows where the commodore took himself off to?"
Will's brow furrowed and he looked to Weatherby, who was standing behind the admiral shaking his head quite certainly. "Ah, no, I'm sorry, sir."
"I must say, Weatherby, I am quite put out. The man has responsibilities here, and he's disappeared!"
"Admiral," Governor Swann said persuasively. "Please remember how hard the commodore worked in your name."
"Oh yes," Will added, finally getting with the program. "Weeks of planning, day and night. I don't know how he stood up straight these past several days. Truly exhausted."
"There," the governor said. "You see? No dereliction of duty at all."
The admiral still looked put out, and he turned his annoyed gaze upon Will. "Weeks of planning?"
Will nodded earnestly. "I cannot think of a better reward for the commodore than some time off to rest and recuperate. I would think at least..." he glanced to the governor, who exaggeratedly mouthed a word. "A fortnight."
"A fortnight?" Whelan looked speculative. He sighed. "We shall make one more stop at the docks, Weatherby, and question this Lieutenant Groves."
The governor covered his eyes, pained. "Thank you, Will," he said as the admiral turned sharply and left the house. "He's being..."
"Insufferable," Will said in disgust.
"Yes," Weatherby agreed. He pinned Will with a gaze. "James is not ashore, is he?"
Will pressed his lips together. "I truly do not know. But..."
The governor nodded. "I know, son," he murmured. "Even I have eyes, and for a friend such as James, I can see how he is happier than ever."
Will brightened considerably. "I had hoped you would understand. They're an odd couple, for sure..."
Weatherby smiled slightly and raised his eyes to heaven. "They certainly deserve each other," he muttered as he trotted off after the admiral, leaving a grinning Will behind.
==
George Groves narrowed his eyes in the bright sun and peered at the two sweating, red-faced men. "You've lost the commodore, you say?"
"Lieutenant," Admiral Whelan said, his voice turning painfully squeakish. "He's lost himself. We had nothing to do with it."
Groves just stared at him before turning his attention to the governor, who shook his head tiredly. The Navy man chose to speak again after straightening his crisp blue jacket. "Well, sir, the man has been laboring on your behalf for quite some time. A work horse, he is, irrepressible in fulfilling his duties."
"Yes, so I've heard," the admiral said, drooping a bit. "Well, it seems all conspires against us. I shall have to postpone my regards until tomorrow."
"If I may be so bold, sir," George said firmly. "The commodore has toiled ceaselessly for the King for many, many years now, and I have never known him to take respite beyond a single day. I would sincerely hope the crown and the Navy would show their appreciation appropriately."
"And just what, pray tell, would you consider appropriate?" Whelan asked, finally bowing to the heat and fanning himself with a handkerchief dug out from a pocket.
The lieutenant considered for a long moment, and movement caught his eye; the governor was gesturing and mouthing words. "At least a fortnight and a half," Groves said firmly. "For all the man has been devoted to the Navy his whole life, twenty days is nothing."
The admiral grimaced. "Weatherby, can Port Royal and its waters survive without the commodore's attentions?"
"Admiral, let me assure you. Thanks to commodore's efforts, pirates know well enough to steer clear of Port Royal," Governor Swann said. "And Lieutenants Groves and Gillette can quite handle the fort and its operations."
Admiral Whelan started to smile. "If you're sure."
"Oh, I'm quite sure," the governor murmured, peering at Whelan as if he could hardly believe this man's behavior.
"Then I have a splendid idea. On behalf of the crown and its constituents, I want to convey a medal of honor upon the commodore, and as a gesture of thanks, on behalf of the King, I shall offer him the singular award of thirty days' time away from his duties, with our blessing," the admiral said brightly. "Isn't it a wonderful idea? I am sure he will appreciate it."
The governor was nonplussed. "A wonderful idea," he responded flatly. George looked at the admiral as if he'd gone mad.
"And now we're ready for lunch. You'll convey my announcement and respects to the commodore, won't you, Lieutenant?"
"Absolutely, sir," George said smartly.
"If I may suggest, Admiral, the Widow Whitehead has invited us for lunch, and we should be on our way," the governor said, almost desperately. "We'll be late as it is."
"It sounds wonderful, Weatherby." Admiral Whelan glanced to Groves. "Carry on, Lieutenant." And he took himself off to the carriage.
"Tell James he owes me," the governor muttered to George before following the stuffed peacock. Groves didn't even try to hide his smile.
==
Jack whistled as he stood at the wheel of the Black Pearl, lazily allowing her to sail herself over the lovely waves under the sun. The ship moved along the coast of Jamaica not too far from Port Royal. And as much as he detested it, they were moving toward Port Royal.
Toward James's life on shore, while he himself would continue to sail the blue sea, free and unfettered. Jack sighed, fiddling with the end of his beaded blue sash. But for the invisible threads about his heart. He turned up his nose. However he'd gotten himself in this state and however uncomfortable it left him from time to time, he need only think of his place in James's arms and any doubts fled. How utterly odd. How perfectly Jack Sparrow.
"Maudlin. Turned me maudlin, he has. I've always been dramatic, yes," Jack smiled rakishly and threw back his shoulders. "A flair for life and love and rum." Then his shoulders sagged a bit. "But now I'm maudlin when apart from him, even so short a distance. I wonder if I should be worried," he mused as he squinted toward shore. He muttered a bit further under his breath until a flash of color distracted him.
"Ah, Mr. Cotton's parrot, returned from the mainland I see," Jack greeted as the bird landed on the rigging.
"Message from shore," the parrot squawked. "Message from shore."
"Good job then," Jack complimented as he left the wheel and untied the small scroll from the parrot's leg. "Tell cook to give you some extra special treats."
"Parrot wanna cracker!" it squealed before taking off again.
Jack shook his head, perplexed at the bird, and then dismissed it. He carefully unrolled the paper, and as he read, the smile on his face grew and grew.
When he looked up, his eyes sparkled gaily. "Post the sails, we're off to sea!" he bellowed, hauling on the wheel to turn the Black Pearl toward open water. The crew started to scurry, calling out orders and recognitions as the ship tacked against the wind.
"With the commodore still aboard?" Gibbs asked from the lower deck where he was mending sail.
"Quite so, Mister Gibbs. The commodore will be enjoying an extended vacation with us while he recuperates," Jack said gaily, tossing his head in the breeze and sending the tiny braids over his shoulder.
Gibbs just smiled. "It will be fine to have him aboard, Jack."
"Aye, it will," Jack replied. "It surely will."
"Perhaps you might ought to let him know?" Gibbs posed, amused.
"Know?"
"That's he's staying with us? As he said at dinner last night, he expects to be back on shore for lunch today, and the sun is already high in the sky," Gibbs reminded.
"Yes! I ought to tell him. Take the wheel. I'll be in my cabin," Jack said, flouncing across the deck, the paper rolling between his fingers as he took himself happily off to share the news with James.
The commodore was in the cabin at the table, writing out letters of commendation for his men. His leg, well on its way to healing after two days, was extended comfortably, and he lounged in borrowed clothes of plain sun-bleached cotton from Jack's extensive wardrobe. He jumped a bit when the doors flew open and crashed against the wall.
"Jamie, I have news!"
James raised an eyebrow and tucked a loose lock of hair behind one ear. "Good news or bad news?"
"Oh, good news. The best of news!" Jack sang as he closed the doors.
James smiled at Jack's enthusiasm and pushed back the papers. "Then by all means, share." He couldn't help but smile. Jack's good humor was irresistible.
Jack pranced over to the table and perched on the edge right next to James. "You're all mine, commodore. I'm not letting you out of my sight for some time to come," he said smugly.
James blinked as a hot rush of arousal washed through him. He'd never imagined that such possessive words would appeal to him. "Is that so?"
"Ah yes," Jack said with relish, holding up the scroll for James.
The commodore took it and read it, his eyes growing larger as he went. "Thirty days?"
"A month! An entire month to spend with me upon the sea!" Jack crowed.
"A month?" James repeated, dazed.
"An entire month," Jack repeated, but his happiness dimmed when he saw James's confusion. "Jamie? Aren't you pleased?"
"The admiral is granting me thirty days leave," James said distantly. "I'm... not quite sure what to think."
"Don't borrow trouble, Jamie," Jack said, clasping the other man's shoulder. "'Tis no more than a show of appreciation. And possibly guilt, as the man attacked his rescuer." He frowned, remembering.
"I..." James looked at Jack. "I've not taken a day of leave since..."
"Since coming to the Black Pearl with me that one day," Jack prompted.
"Yes."
Jack tipped his head, his face reflecting growing worry. "Jamie? Am I mistaken? Would you rather return to Port Royal?" he asked reluctantly.
James continued to gaze at the pirate. Yes, pirate, he affirmed to himself. His pirate. "There is nowhere I would rather be than here," he said quietly. He felt the truth of it from the tip top of his head to the lowest bits of his toes.
"Ah, my Jamie," Jack said softly, rubbing the backs of his knuckles along James's cheek. "You could sway me to anything when you talk like that."
James slowly smiled, pushing a bit back from the table. "Anything?"
Jack was intent. "Anything," he echoed.
"Tell me, then," James said persuasively. "Is there anywhere you would rather be?" He wanted to know; he wanted to lay the last of his nerves to rest before they embarked upon this journey. Jack would spend thirty days with Just Jamie, nary a commodore in sight. And while James was suddenly eager to accept the boon and sail away, he needed to know for sure.
"Merely out upon the sea with moonlight and thee," Jack said fancifully without pause.
James smiled and shook his head. "Who would have thought Captain Jack Sparrow would be so easy to please?"
The pirate waggled his eyebrows. "You've no idea, luv."
Quirking an eyebrow in return, James suppressed a smile. "Haven't I?"
"I'll finally be making a pirate of you!" Jack said happily, practically bouncing in place, setting all his baubles to jingling.
James's eyes widened for a moment before he sighed and shrugged. "All right."
Jack froze utterly still. "All right? You aren't going to object?"
James, obviously amused, crossed his arms and watched the other man. "I'll be aboard your pirate ship for a month. I do not believe a man with even such fortitude as I can resist your wiles for so long when you bring them to bear."
Jack narrowed his eyes as he worked his way through James's statement, and then he perked up. "So I'm wily, am I?"
"Quite," James muttered.
Jack chuckled. "It won't be difficult to make a proper pirate of you."
"Perhaps this opportunity will satisfy you," James mentioned.
Jack looked thoughtful for a moment, rubbing his goatee with his thumb. "Perhaps," he answered doubtfully.
James chuckled and pushed back from the table, standing carefully. "So, Captain, what are your orders?" he asked with a straight face, though his eyes twinkled.
"Calling me 'Captain' now, are you?" Jack asked, crossing his arms and tilting his head back enough to see the commodore's face.
James made a production of looking about them in the cabin. "I see no one here besides you but a common deckhand, so, yes."
"There's nothing common about ye, my Jamie," Jack said with a smile.
James didn't try to hide his grin as he poked Jack's side while walking carefully toward the door. "Just you remember that, you scallywag."
"Such words of adoration warm the cockles of my... heart," Jack said facetiously as he followed James out on deck.
The commodore looked over his shoulder at Jack, acknowledging the feint. "I'll keep it in mind," James said as he came to a stop at the railing, watching Port Royal recede.
He leaned there for some time, watching the far coastline, and he recognized that he felt no desire within him to return to it, at least not for now. He wouldn't be a fool and expect the approaching time with the incorrigible and practically uncontrollable Jack Sparrow would be all smooth sailing. Quite the opposite—James thought he just might be looking forward to such a lively challenge.
James tilted his head to one side, turning his chin to see the wind tossing the ocean waves, much as he always felt in Jack's presence. Unawares to himself, a soft, happy smile took his features at the sight.
But Jack noticed the curve of James's lips. He climbed the steps to the wheel, watching his lover's hair blow back over his shoulders. After licking one finger and checking the wind, the pirate pulled out his compass and checked it, snapping it closed with a satisfied, cat-that-ate-the-canary smile.
"Drink up me hearties, yo ho..."
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