Marooned, 19
In Which Jack Makes a Wish
by
Gloria Mundi
See Chapter 1 for full headers
Originally Posted: 1/19/05
It would have suited him better if he'd been dreaming of Norrington when the Ariel rounded the headland. In fact he had been telling himself the beginning of a new story about Elizabeth, and it was the imagined sound of her voice saying his name—not in exasperation or cajolery, but soft and insistent—that was cut off, drowned out, by his own astonished cry of "Ship!"
The ship. The ship, all white slackening canvas and faint echoing commands, the splash of the bow anchor heaved overboard, the larger splash of the cutter being lowered to the water.
There were people on the ship. Men. Strangers. Was that not an English flag at the masthead?
Jack Sparrow wished for a mirror. Like every other wish he'd made since waking on this barren shore, it went ungranted. Every other wish until now.
He wanted to run and hide. He wanted to unwish them, after all, and have them come again when he was better prepared. He wanted to greet them grandly, lord of his small domain, and have their respect from the moment they met him. Instead, he must play beggar for a way away from here; an escape; a rescue.
Jack stood before his hut and watched them come ashore in their long-boat. The tall man in front seemed familiar at first, but he walked with an ugly wrenching limp—much worse than his own—that made Jack wince to see it. He wore simple breeches and a grubby shirt, not the uniform that somebody like Commodore Norrington would have worn for such an auspicious occasion. Jack's hands clenched on the compass, but it swung no less wildly than before.
And yet: it was.
"Jack Sparrow?" he said, halting a couple of steps in front of Jack. The voice was all wrong. Not how Jack remembered it at all. He sounded ... Jack couldn't be sure. Too long away from the sound of other voices. Was Norrington pleased, or horrified, or ...
"Jack ... it is you, isn't it?"
Jack, with a supreme effort, remembered how to smile. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service."
Norrington reached out for his hand, and Jack flinched.
"Never thought you'd be the first person I touched after a year, mate," he said, and felt a brief, nostalgic flare of delight at Norrington's raised eyebrows.
He clasped the Commodore's hand, still half-expecting Norrington to seize him again and examine him for new brandings, scars and distinguishing marks. ... There. Not so difficult, is it, Jack? But Norrington's hand felt wrong. Too dry. Too hot. His grip tightened on Jack, not letting him pull away, and Jack felt himself begin to panic.
"It's true, about the Black Pearl?" said Norrington quietly, looking directly into Jack's eyes as though he might yet see her image, in miniature, reflected there.
"Gone," said Jack, rocking back on his heels so that he could look away more easily. "Dragged to the depths."
"I'm sorry." Norrington bowed his head for a moment, respectful-like. "And the ... your crew?"
"Full fathom five," said Jack with an empty smile. "And I only escaped to tell thee."
"You've been here alone for a year?" Norrington's voice rose sharply.
"The mermaids come up to pass the time when the tide's right," said Jack. "Nasty scaly harlots."
The rest of Norrington's crew had backed off a little, giving them some privacy. Jack gestured at them. "Not worried that the fearsome pirate'll slit your gizzard, are they?"
"They probably think you're mad," said Norrington calmly. "They're afraid it's contagious."
"Course I'm mad, mate," said Jack, aware of a curious choking sensation. It might have been laughter, or something less acceptable. "I've lost my love."
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Chapter 20