Never Say Die

8. Out of the Frying Pan

by

Hippediva and Elessil

Or he had just become used to Sparrow's way of walking.

He stretched a bit more and hit Jack's ankle with his heel. Purely by accident. "Morning."

"Ow!" Jack roused himself from his half-doze at the wheel and shook himself awake. There had been little need for him to stand there for hours, but he had long ago acquired a knack for sleeping on his feet, eyes half-closed. It always scared the bejesus out of his crew. "Is it mornin'? Feels like bloody noon." It was hot and sticky as the worst summer days in Port Royal. The haze only seemed to increase the humidity and even Jack was sweating.

"You were supposed to keep watch; therefore you should know," James grabbed the rail and pulled himself upright. They stood close and watched the horizon, the sun barely gleaming through the fog, diffuse and difficult to spot.

"Watch wot? The haze? Bloody weird." Jack scowled. "An' that's weird an' annoyin'." He pointed at Barbossa, snoring like an asthmatic buffalo with Jack the monkey snuffling a raucous descant.

"You are weird and annoying, Sparrow, so you should feel right at home." James' voice was softer than his words and he put his hand on the helm next to Jack's. "Tedious, to keep watch in such bleak weather. And rather embarrassing for a Midshipman to confuse a torn, frayed ratline with an enemy ship." He chuckled.

Jack laughed softly, his eyes meeting James' with a hint of surprise in the dark depths. "Ya didn't! Bet you got yerself laughed off the quarterdeck fer months."

"Hemp in my supper, actually. Not that it tasted particularly different."

"Ugh! Nothin' worse than a mouthful of it when there's still tar." Jack made an appropriate face. "I never developed a taste fer it."

James arched a brow. "Chewing your nails, Sparrow?"

"Done my time wif that, too." The pirate grinned at him. "I'm sure you've had yer moments." He leaned over the wheel with a smile. "I must say the seas here are interestin'."

"I suppose people may have had the urge to stuff your mouth with oakum to silence you, too. The tar explains the colour of your remaining teeth." With a smile, James nudged Jack's fingers off the helmspokes. "Get some rest now. Unlike the other Jack, you need it."

Again, there was that thrill of an electric shock as their fingers touched, then Sparrow tossed himself against the bulwark like a broken marionette. "Lemme know when ya need a break. Bananas an' coconut milk, please..." Jack went back to his dreams. There was another splash, this time port amidships, then another and another.

Jack was awakened from his coconut dream when thirty pounds of fish landed in his lap. "Wot th' bleedin'..." He tossed it overboard, ducked another one and peeked over the rail.

James had drawn his sword, unsuccessfully attempting to skewer the fish that practically flew across the sloop. "At least they do not sing."

Jack gaped at what had to be one of the strangest sights he'd ever witnessed in all his years of bizarre adventuring. Huge fish were leaping out of the water willy nilly, landing on the deck, tangling in the rigging, flying overhead like cannonballs. The sea was churning like a bubbling cauldron as they jumped and flashed.

"I don't wanna know." Jack batted at them with a belaying pin. "Hector! Wake th' hell up! We've got fish."

Barbossa was about to reply that they were in the ocean, therefore fish were a natural phenomenon, when a particularly big one flapped into his hat, smacking him on the side of the head so hard he saw stars. "I must say, this is becomin' an interestin' voyage." The monkey scolded and bolted into the rigging to avoid the scaly missiles.

James ducked a fish and skewered another, tossing it on the deck. "At least we will have supplies other than hardtack and rum," he muttered, spinning around for another slash.

"Get away! Damnation!" Jack jumped to avoid a huge wriggling mass, slipped on another and struggled to get to his feet, kicking them out of his way while Barbossa swung wildly, his sword blade resembling a skewer.

They were everywhere, jumping higher and faster and they seemed to be getting bigger. "The deck was writhing and flapping, hundreds of manic eyes peering up as they littered the Calypso.

James stood his ground next to the wheel, defying all fish that launched themselves against the helmspokes to push them off course. There was a shout before the next splash and he jerked around just in time to see Jack flailing as he crashed overboard.

Barbossa kept laughing and slashing away until the port side was awash in fish blood. "Leave 'im. If Jonah wants t'take the bird, he's welcome to!"

"The whale ate Jonah, not the other way around," James said dryly, unrolling a tow line with one hand, sword in the other, ducking and fighting fish, frantically slashing his way towards the rail.

"The devil take 'em both! Ha! I'd give my teeth fer a good fire!" Barbossa beat back another wave.

The Calypso had slowed, perhaps mired in the welter of fish, straining to move against the unseen forces that could make fish jump and time wobble. Still, Jack seemed unduly far behind them.

"I doubt anyone would want them," James quipped breathlessly, throwing the line. A fish nearly knocked it out of his fist and it flew through the air, far from its target.

Again and again, he hurled the line only to have it bounce through the air like a child's ball. He stared and hauled, then, finally, with a snarl, dropped his coat to the deck, wrapped the line around his chest and jumped.

Jack floundered in a vicious froth of fins and tails, struggling to swim. He nearly swallowed one; spat and choked, trying to shout over the flapping frenzy.

Gasping, he went under again, trying to dive and beaten down relentlessly.

James struggled through the fish, shoving them aside, feeling as though he were Moses attempting to part the Red Sea. Without a staff. Finally, he reached Jack and grabbed for him through the flock of fish, flailing for his arm.

Jack choked and coughed, fingers grasping for James' in the midst of a boiling sea. Together, they hauled on the line, hand over hand, both grabbing snatches of breath.

The fish still launched themselves at them, snouts crashing hard against knuckles and they slipped, again and again, only slowly pulling their way back towards the boat.

The Calypso had stopped moving entirely, and was bobbing on the waves, rocked on the water by the fish. Faintly, they could make out Barbossa's shouts over the splashing.

Jack didn't bother trying to talk: he was much to busy trying to breathe. Barbossa hauled them closer, and the Calypso shuddered and started as if anxious to keep moving.

They pulled themselves aboard, ducking behind the rail breathlessly. They could feel the thrum in the timbers as, once more, the sloop's sails bellied, and she strained onwards, fighting through a sea of fish.

Panting, James turned. "Are you all right?"

Jack was shaking the fish out of his boottops. He looked exactly like a wet cat; eyes blazing, dripping and outraged. "Ask me later. Too close t'chowder right now." He jumped back as another monstrous carp flew by and glared at Barbossa. "That took ya long enough."

"The ship be intent on carryin' all three of us t'hell t'gether. I rather thought you might have thanked me." Barbossa slashed again and sent fish guts flying.

"I'll thank you t'stop sprayin' me with fish blood! Bastard! Ugh! An' don't you even think of suggestin' a fry."

James cleared his throat and pointed. "Too late."

Jack suddenly stopped and his entire face went blank. He stared at the sea, an admirable imitation of a waxwork dummy.

Barbossa smirked. "I keep tryin' t'lose you but yer the worst penny ever spewed outta Shipwreck—"

Hector, shut it."

"I suppose that would be a case of 'be careful what others wish for'," James muttered.

Barbossa was staring over Jack's shoulder with the same 'perfectly stuffed' expression. "Now what the hell is this?"

"Not what the hell. What hell?"

Jack gulped.

All around them, licks of flame were floating on the waves. Phantom mirror images, they danced, first low and sputtering, then leaping high as the masthead and fading. They grew with every swell, the sea below them reflected by flickering tongues of green. Deep emerald, sparkling jade, acid foam, they stretched before the Calypso, engulfing her.

They backed away, midships of the Calypso, pressed to her mast as the flames licked over the bulwark, like arms stretching out to grab them. James glanced at Jack, the light flickering in his eyes. "Washed, salted, and now fried. I am certain you will be quite tasty, Sparrow." His voice shook and he swallowed. He turned, ready to haul them off course if the ship would allow, but the flames were everywhere, as though they were cradling the keel.

Barbossa's eyes narrowed as he watched Jack, who was still standing like a statue. Suddenly, Sparrow bolted to where one oar remaining of a long-gone jolly, haphazardly secured against the rail. He wrenched it free and thrust it like a spear into a bucket of tar.

"They hear the choir an' wot was it? Cold fire." Jack was muttering to himself before he leaned out over the rail with the oar and watched it catch.

"Find cold fire an' de winds turn round again," James whispered, then jumped as Jack swang the oar. "Sparrow, now is not the time to play with fire! We are amidst it!"

James ducked a flame that seemed to lash at them. Not a fighting chance. He looked up and straightened. "I suppose that is referred to as hell freezing over." He made for the helm and hauled at it, struggling to evade the fire, slashing like green whips.

"Aye! It's the perfect time to play with fire." Jack laughed as the mainsail caught and green flames licked their way to the mast.

Barbossa waved his hat's merrily burning feathers. "I'm not sure I like the idea of a green hell." His laugh was as wild as the inferno climbing the sides of the Calypso like a thousand blazing boarders.

Jack's grin was madder than Barbossa's laugh as he torched the rigging.

"I am not certain I like the idea of you being my eternal torment." James jumped away as the embers trickled down from the sail like gleaming emeralds. "Are you insane?"

"Well, let's see. We're in the midst of a sea that is on fire. I'd say it's not me who's insane." Jack laughed and let the oar drop through his fingers. His hair ignited within seconds and he grinned at James through the flickering light, then held out the oar and let it touch Norrington's shoulder.

James shouted and shoved it away, batting at flames helplessly, the fire chilling his hand to the bone as his fingers sliced through it without resistance, without effect. The fire took and spread, like a flush of icy water down his spine.

"Aye, he is completely insane. I thought you already knew that." Barbossa grabbed a belaying pin and watched it sizzle while Jack ran around like a demented firefly, touching off the planking and the rigging with a bedlam smile. "Bloody tickles!" He danced around the capstan, his bones nearly visible amid the shadow of flesh encased in eerie luminescence.

As suddenly as it appeared, it was gone like a jet of flamed gas James had once seen as a student, reduced to tiny will-o-the-wisps that faded into sunlight. Jack blew out the monkey's tail.

James stared down at his clothes in silence, no sign of charring, nothing, the Calypso cutting through the waves as she had through the flames. He cleared his throat, his voice low. "I would have thought you would burn particularly well, Sparrow, taking into account all the rum."

Barbossa examined his feathers, shrugged and stuck his hat back on his head. "Oh, Jack, yer in trouble deep. This one sees right through ya. An' ye seem to know how to light his fire."

Jack let the oar fall, making Barbossa jump to avoid getting beaned. "Oops. An' wot, pray tell, business is it o' yours? Seems to me that you're doin' just as much chasin', speakin' circuitously, as I am."

"You do indeed speak 'circuitously'," James drawled, crossing his arms to make the gooseflesh subside. It did not. The closer he came to the helm, the more the back of his neck prickled. Worse than the flames, and it was only a light breeze. He stared.

At the helm sat a woman, her white hair flowing to the deck, part of it wrapped around the spokes. The wheel turned and she spun, long, gnarly fingers choosing the threads and uniting them. She looked up, straight into his eyes, her single one clear and relentless.

Her lips did not move but there was a voice, low and comforting, smooth, reminding him faintly of his mother singing to him as a child. "Thy fate awaits, James Norrington. One step, and it begins, one choice, and it is done."

To Jack, she was a wavery image, a northern light that shimmered but made no sound. He chewed on his lip, then crept forward until his hand hovered over James' shoulder. Barbossa, too, inched towards her, his eyes narrowing.

She faded, and James stood still long after she was gone, lost in the memory of her touch on his cheek; warmth where he had expected chill; comfort where he'd braced for fear. He clutched at one helmspoke, half-expecting to feel yarn.

"Strange women lurkin' on deck seems to be a new tactic." Jack peered at James, then glared at the monkey who was beginning to screech in a dreadful, ear-piercing manner. "I never tried strangling it."

"It is undead, Sparrow. It may try strangling you with its tail." James' voice was low, but clear, and he was relieved to hear it did not shake. With a soft laugh, he turned, flashing a smile at the hand on his shoulder.

Jack pulled it back as if burnt and laughed, stalking to the rail. "Well, it could bloody well stop screamin'. Wot's the matter wif it?"

Barbossa coaxed it onto his shoulder and absently fed it a peanut, watching the way it eyed James. His lips twisted as he barked a laugh. "An' a great rousin' voyage this be. Hush, Jack. Where's the rum?"

Jack handed him the bottle in his coat pocket. "Just don't do t'stay sober 'round these parts."

James pulled his gaze from the horizon and laughed hoarsely. "Do not pretend you ever tried."

"Oh, he'll pretend all right, but I wouldn't lay odds on it bein' the truth."

"Truth bein' relative an' not one o' yours, aye?"

"Nor yours," James drawled. "Now shut up."

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