A Fish Tale

Chapter 19

by

Oasis Herself

The currents dragged wildly at them from seemingly every direction, but the worst of the storm, the raging wind and pounding surf, was only a muted and distant rumble far above them.

They surfaced finally to find the pod gathered well away from any rocks, and bobbing in the deeper waters beyond the cove. The seas were high here, but manageable, and Jack seemed to be handling them without any difficulty.

A faint glimmer of first light tinted the heavy-laden skies of the eastern horizon, and in the gloom James could see a small, gaff-rigged fishing schooner, fighting to stay afloat.

From the looks of it, she'd had a hard time of it.

Her mainsail spar had broken nearly free of the mast and was hanging precariously out over the starboard beam. If the spar plummeted into the sea, it would take the mainsail, still secured along its length, with it. Their combined weight would most certainly drag the small ship down.

James glanced over at Jack and could see he was studying it with the critical eye of a life-long sailor.

"If they'd cut that sail free, they'd stand a chance when the spar goes," Jack said from beside him. "Reckon they could make way well enough with just the jib and the stays'l to limp it into port."

James looked back to the schooner and could just barely make out the crew lowering small boats and preparing to abandon. "Apparently they're not interested in trying to save the ship."

"Aye," Jack answered thoughtfully, "almost makes a man wonder if there's not something in their hold what shouldn't be."

The ominous crack of splintering wood could be heard across the water and James turned away from the sight. It wouldn't be much longer now.

Jack was still watching, but he'd cocked his head to the side and was frowning in concentration. "That ship looks familiar to me." He cocked his head to the other side and studied it from that angle for a few seconds more and then glanced up at James with a sheepish grin. "Maybe I've threatened it before."

James rolled his eyes and pulled Jack into his arms. "Well, that certainly wouldn't surprise me in the least."

"Damned waste of a good ship," Jack grumbled, "to give her up so easily."

James turned again in the water and they both watched the ship's crew push off in the small boat and begin their laborious way to shore. As high as these seas are, James thought, it will be a miracle if they make it.

Jack twisted in James's arms and nuzzled into his neck. "It's a damned waste of a good morning too, luv, and one that could be spent in far more pleasurable activities."

James intercepted Jack's hand, wandering dangerously close to the opening of his pouch.

"Jack," he warned. He felt Jack grin against his neck and then the lightest touch of Jack's tail flukes teasing at the crease of his arse.

"Will you stop that!" he hissed.

Jack settled against him with a pout. "It eight bleedin' fisherman, James. Ya really figure it's going take the entire pod to see them to shore?"

"We were asked to help, and as I recall, you agreed to it."

"Aye. And all I'm thinkin' now is that we're wastin' what precious little time we have left of the enchantment on old salts that should know better'n to abandon a ship that isn't sinkin' yet."

Aroo, still beside them in the water, was listening curiously and drifted closer to be heard over the wind. "Our kind has always aided those lost to the sea, when it was within our power to do so. And when not, we have gathered the dead and laid them to rest in the deep trenches of the ocean."

"Well, I see no profit in it for me, mate."

One of the old ones must have overheard Jack's words and he slipped round to confront him.

"When Barbossa cast you into the sea from your own ship, how was it that you came to find yourself on the shore of that island?"

"Well, I swam it, a' course," was Jack's glib response.

The old one and Aroo exchanged a quick amused glance, and then he addressed Jack again. "You are a good man, but by your own words, you are a dishonest one... so I'll ask you once more. How was it that you came to find yourself on the shore of that island?

Jack was silent for a long moment and James felt his tail twine anxiously around his own.

"Well, I... I reckon there coulda been a dolphin... I don't rightly recall now for sure," Jack admitted finally.

"The minds of men... sound men... often convince them that they aren't seeing what their eyes are telling them."

Jack looked up with a shrug and an apologetic grin. "There's some would question the soundness of me mind on that island, mate... specially what with all the ru..."

He stopped short, frowned down into the water for a moment and then began muttering to himself. "Island... mind... island... rum... men... rumrumrum." He swiveled his head sharply to look back at the schooner. "Rum-runners!" he cried excitedly. "Now I remember where I've seen that ship."

He turned back to James with a self satisfied smirk and drummed his fingers against his chest. "And that's why they're abandoning ship." The smirk faded into a look of horror. "OH! Not good."

"They're rum-runners, Jack?"

"We need to check the hold o' that ship, mate, and quick. I'm thinking it might be cargo what needs to be rescued."

The pod had gathered close around them now to hear Jack.

"You want to rescue rum?"

"Not rum. You put 'em out of the rum business."

The high pitched squeal of shattering wood and ripping sail-cloth interrupted any speech and the entire pod looked quickly to the ship.

The spar had finally broken free of the mast, and as James watched, it took a slow, almost graceful dive into the ocean with the sail fluttering behind it. It hit the water hard, and in only moments, the ship was pulled to its side and began to take on water.

Jack took James's cheeks in his hands and forcibly dragged James's attention back to him. "Slaves, James. Last I heard, they were runnin' slaves!"

"Oh, dear God."

James made directly for the hatch cover that led to the hold and Jack was right behind him. They struggled with the weight of it against the water flooding across the deck, and then finally Jack took command of the pod.

James was aware that the seemingly unrelated sounds the pod made underwater were a language of sorts. Jack had picked it up readily enough and now he cried instructions with a series of sharp clicks and squeals.

Dree and Aroo were at their sides immediately, and with their help, the hatch was lifted away.

The hold was filled with slaves—women and children, mostly—and it was rapidly filling with water. By the time the pod managed to swarm down into it, there was only the smallest space of air left.

The abandoned slaves had been left securely chained to the bulkhead and wild now in their terror; they were massed as high as they could climb, trying to keep their noses above the water line.

They tried. They all did. But for all of the pod's efforts, their combined strength was simply not enough to break the shackles. They struggled futilely with the chains and then finally, when it became horrifyingly apparent that there was nothing they could do, they simply settled in.

They moved gently amongst the slaves, keening and offering comfort, and fully prepared to make this last journey with them as the ship sank inexorably to the ocean floor.

Jack turned in the water of the hold, his dorsal fin fanned high in fury. He issued a sharp series of clicks and squeals, and Cruu and Dree darted through the water to his side.

Whatever it was that Jack said to them, their fins bristled as well, and Cruu nodded determined agreement with Jack.

Jack looked over at James for only the briefest of moments. The look on his face was one of murderous rage. He dipped his head in a short nod and then the three of them were pushing their way out of the hold and were gone.

The ship gave a sudden, sickening lurch, and the small space of air beneath the sole was gone.

The child James had been holding above the water died quickly, its small lungs filling rapidly. The child's mother, beside him in the water, reached out and touched the side of James's face. He looked down into her eyes and there was only a calm acceptance there.

James pulled her into his arms, the child between them and continued to hold her gaze until finally, her eyes dulled and her body went lax in his arms.

Jack was searching his face anxiously and coaxing him through the water with soft clicks and gentle touches.

Christ, he was so tired; it felt like he was trying to swim through molasses. He felt weary down to his very soul.

He slowed once and then finally stopped to look back at the ship resting there peacefully enough now amongst the corals. Jack took him gently by the cheek and tipped his face away from the sight and continued to urge him on towards their cave.

They stayed low to the sea bed, and apparently Jack's intent was to feed as they made their way.

James had no appetite and drifted aimlessly beside him. He shook his head 'no' to Jack's anxious clicked query and turned down the offer of an oyster... and then 'no' again at Jack's continued and increasingly insistent attempts to press food onto him.

He gave in finally when Jack cracked the shell of an oyster and held the morsel to James's mouth, trying to tempt him.

Jack continued to feed him, shelling and holding each piece of meat to his lips. James ate methodically to please Jack, but with no real hunger.

Finally, blessedly, they were back in their own cave and James climbed wearily onto the ledge.

Jack carefully pushed the wet hair off of his face and pulled him down into his arms. "Come here, luv, let ol' Jack take care of ya."

James curled gratefully into Jack's arms and buried his face in Jack's neck. All he wanted was to escape into the oblivion of sleep and he took great comfort in the soft rush of air that fluttered against his cheek from his mate's gills.

He had very nearly drifted off when a thought occurred to him. He stirred in Jack's arms and looked up... he was quite certain he wanted to see Jack's face when he asked this.

"You killed the crew, didn't you?"

Jack was silent for a long moment and finally looked down to meet his gaze squarely. "Aye. And I'm not sorry for it, James, so don't ask me to be."

"You and Dree and Cruu?"

"Aye."

James silently pondered that information and then finally asked. "How? I mean, the mer-folk don't kill, Jack."

"Seems the crew's little boat met with an unfortunate accident before it could reach shore." Jack paused for a moment before adding, casually, "Funny, innit, how often ya come across sailors that can't swim?"

"But Dree and Cruu..."

"Well, strictly speaking, Dree and Cruu's part was mostly confined to a lack of rescuin'."

James pulled away from Jack and tried to sit up.

Jack caught him and tugged him back down against his side. "If you're thinkin' I've gone and corrupted the pod... well, you're mistaken on that, darlin'. It was the young ones chained in that hold what did it."

He searched Jack's face for deceit. That was most likely true, James finally conceded to himself. Births were rare occurrences amongst the mer-folk and each child was treasured and safeguarded by the entire pod. The willful sacrifice of children must seem the most abhorrent of crimes to them.

He settled back against Jack with a resigned sigh. "I daresay the responsibility for the deaths of those children lies squarely on my shoulders."

Jack craned his neck and looked down at him in puzzlement. "Now how in bleedin hell did ya come up with that?"

"If I hadn't interfered in their rum-running, they'd have not turned to the slave market, and it would be rum sitting at the bottom of the ocean and not women and children... ergo, the fault is mine."

"Ah-huh," Jack squirmed down to peer into his face. "S'not your fault, luv, despite that rather sterling demonstration of logic."

"Nonetheless..."

Jack wagged an admonishing finger at him. "Ah, ah, ah... there's to be none a' that. Runnin' slaves pays better, James, and they'd a' probably come to that conclusion whether ya had or hadn't curtailed their rum smugglin' activities."

James mulled that over in his mind until his thoughts turned to wonder how it was that Jack knew running slaves paid better than rum. And then wondered uneasily if Jack had ever engaged in such a venture.

He finally had to ask. "Have you ever profited from the slave market, Jack?"

Jack screwed up his face in concentration and then finally looked sidelong at James. "I stole a slave once. Does that count?"

James wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.

Apparently it didn't matter.

Jack was settling himself comfortably and drawing James's head down against his shoulder. James knew his mate well enough to know that a highly unlikely and entirely improbable tale was about to be offered.

"Now, James, darlin'," Jack began thoughtfully, "Let me think... it must a been, oh...eight or nine years ago, if I recall rightly. I was sailing with a pirate crew out of Tripoli..." He lifted a thoughtful finger to the corner of his mouth for a moment and then leaned close to whisper into James's ear. "For the record, luv... that's on the Mediterranean."

"I knew that, Jack."

"Ah, good. No problems then." He fluttered his fingers dismissively in the air and went on with his story. "We'd commandeered a nice little brigantine and were enjoyin' the day and near perfect sailin' weather, when we somehow managed to run afoul of the East India Trading Company."

Jack paused for breath and dropped a quick kiss to the top of James's head. "I should like to point out here, James, that we were almost entirely innocent of the charges levied against us, but that's when I made the acquaintance of a short little bastard of the name a' Beckett"

Jack arched an eyebrow and looked down at James. "Ever heard of him?"

"Yes."

Jack rubbed at his right forearm. "Nasty bit a work, that one," he murmured.

"I can't say I was impressed when I met the man in London."

"Aye, and I'm not surprised at that. But, as I was sayin', said short little bastard had recently acquired for himself a hell-cat of a slave who he apparently figured would be warmin' his sheets."

Jack began to snicker quietly to himself until James looked up at him questioningly and Jack's grin broadened. "She managed to get her hands around his stones and damn near made him a eunuch."

James smiled up at him. He wasn't sure how much truth he was hearing, but he appreciated the effort that Jack was making to distract him.

"Ol' Beckett didn't take well to that."

"No, I would think not."

"Well, me and the crew I was sailing with, we were sittin' in gaol and all of us sportin' new brands."

"It was Beckett who branded you?"

"Aye, and I wasn't feelin' any too perky about then, I can tell ya, but I heard a commotion comin' down the hall. I looked up and there's Beckett and his men draggin' this pretty little thing, naked as the day she was born and beat half to death."

"Christ."

"'Here ya are lads,' says Beckett to us, and he has her tossed into the cell with us."

"You didn't... did you?"

"'Course not. Most of us didn't. But there were some I'm ashamed to say weren't above it, and I swear to God, they were like mad dogs in a meat locker, mate."

James shivered despite himself. He knew that wasn't a particularly uncommon occurrence; still, it had always struck him as a deplorable act. His thoughts drifted back to how close he himself had come that afternoon with Jack, but before his mental meandering had a chance to become overly maudlin, Jack gave him a nudge.

"Are you listenin' to me?"

"Hmm? Yes, of course. Go on."

"Well, I 'member sittin' there in that corner, watchin' Beckett watchin' them... and he and his lads enjoyin' it all so much that they forgot one... very... important... thing."

Jack snickered softly to himself. "Aye, I just stayed still and quiet in that corner and bided me time. When all was said and done and even the guard was snoring, I sidled up careful-like to the girl and offered her my coat and a plan. It took some fancy convincing on my part, but she finally agreed. We struck an accord then, and bold as ya please, we walked right out the cell door that Beckett and his boys forgot to lock."

Jack gave a self satisfied sniff. "We made a daring escape, and that, luv, is how I stole a slave."

He settled back against the ledge, pulled James closer and gave every appearance of being ready to take a nap.

"Well?" James demanded.

"Well what?"

"What ever happened to her?"

"Who?"

"The slave, Jack... what happened to the slave?"

"Oh, her," Jack tugged his shoulder into a bored shrug. "When I got me Pearl back, I made her my first mate."

"It was Anamaria?"

"Aye."

James sat up and stared down at him. "Is that story really true?"

"Every word, luv."

James was quiet for several seconds and tried to ignore a jealous twinge that needled at him. Finally he asked, "You and Anamaria, are you two...?"

Jack looked up at him. "What?"

"Well, I... I guess I'm asking if you and she are lovers."

Jack's eyebrows met his hairline. "No, no, bloody hell no." He grimaced in distaste. "Did ya ever notice that pouch she wears on her belt?"

"I may have."

Jack narrowed his eyes and motioned him down to whisper into his ear. "It's full a' blokes' stones, luv."

James lifted his head to gaze down into Jack's face and Jack arched a brow and nodded sagely.

James searched his face for a long moment and then settled back down against Jack's shoulder. "That last part... that was a lie, wasn't it?"