Pirate Vindaloo, Chapter 25

The Tide Turns

by

Hippediva & Elessil

Jack was laughing at some quip of Bertie's, and it would be dishonest to claim that he didn't time his entrance to the Bride's most crowded hour perfectly, although, Jack, being eternally dishonest, would claim it was all a complete coincidence.  He was basking in celebrity, glittering and gleaming like a rare jewel.  Suddenly, the dim lamplight was brighter and more golden, the laughter heartier, the curses more vile. 

He waved his hellos to all and sundry, stopped smack in the middle of the place to sweep off his hat in an elaborate bow and roared for 'drinks all 'round'.

There was a sudden squeal, high-pitched as though another unfortunate guest had tried his luck with one of the whores without coin, and a small shadow tore itself from Jack's side and ran towards the lone figure in the corner. Jack's eyes seemed to follow in confused slow motion as Matthew launched himself into James' arms with another squeal.

Jack stared, mid-conversation with Crowls, flooded with a baker's dozen emotions at once.  He forced himself not to rush to where Matthew was squashing James against the wall and stood, his head cocked to one side, weight resting on one hip; arrogant, and as overwhelmed as a child on Christmas morning.  "Jamie, darlin', it's about time ya showed yer face here."

Amid cheers and laughter, Jack plucked Matthew off James and leaned close.  "Missed you somethin' awful, mate," he whispered then backed up a wary step.

Whatever James had expected to happen, it didn't. There was the weight of Matthew clinging to his leg, the warmth of Jack's arms on his, but all it stirred was memory, none of the happiness he had known in their days aboard the Chimaera. "Hello, Jack." There was a short, nervous pause. "You look well. I hear you have the Pearl back?" It was not what he had thought to say at all, but all he could.

Jack looked at him like a man aiming a pistol.  "Y'have a room?"  He turned to joke with Bertie, his eyes a perfect signal to Gibbs.

"Give the Cap'n some room.  Been a hard fortnight fer us all."

The drinks were passed and Jack leaned over the table, every inch the pirate of legend, save for the worried, wary gaze.

"Cat got yer tongue, luv?  Let's go talk in private, aye?"

James cast another look around the tavern and rose. He'd begun to tune out the constant uproar to not run completely insane, but it was still loud, all the tavern raising their drink to Jack Sparrow, the only one to get the attention of the strange man in the corner. "Aye." He tore through the crowd with strange impatience and led Jack up to the small room that had been his home for the past ten days.

Jack's hands fluttered.  "Private business, you dogs.  An' no, yer not invited.  My abject apologies all 'round."  He bowed and laughed, one arm insistent about James' waist.  Near the doorway to the stairs, he bent to Gibbs.  "Keep a sharp eye an' fetch us in two hours."

Gibbs grinned at him.  "Aye, Cap'n.  Hey, young Mattie, c'mere and Old Crowls might fill that bottomless pit of a belly you got."

Jack pulled James up the stairs.  "Which one, Jamie?"

Wordlessly, James led him through the narrow hallway, opening the door to the room at the very end and gesturing for Jack to come inside. James was a shade paler than he had been six weeks ago, dark circles beneath his eyes. There was only the single, rickety chair and the bed on which he sat down, still without a word.

Jack's eyes darkened with every step.  By the time he sat himself on the dishevelled bed, they were the colour of squid ink.  "James, wot's wrong?  Wot happened?  You look like the devil at his weddin' breakfast."  He could smell fear, despair, could almost touch it.  "They shut you out, didn't they?"

James only nodded. He didn't rightly know what to say, what to expect. "They declared me dead after five months," he whispered eventually. Then, more silence until he finally looked up, swallowing around his words. "May I... may I stay aboard the Pearl for a while?"

Jack's mouth fell open.  "Oh God."  He took a deep breath.  "Of course ya can.  Don't be a goose.  There's always a place for you with me."  He bit his lip and leaned forward, taking both James' hands between his.  "Wotever you may think of me, now, before, or after, know that, luv."

James looked at him with a crooked smile. The calloused hands were warm in Jack's palms but absolutely motionless, as if folded in prayer. "Thank you."

Jack the babbler knew when to be quiet and simply held onto James' hands, watching the shadows in his eyes.  "Never worry, mate.  Wotever you need.  You ate t'day?"

"Yes. I have an arrangement including board and lodging. Although I swear that even Cookie at his worst has produced better meals than these. They are hardly palatable when sober." James attempted another smile that came out less shaky. "I see you are introducing the boy to the local dens of depravity?"

"Mattie's quite the man now.  He beat off a slaver's ship's boy o' fifteen and there's no end to his vanity these days."  Jack held onto the long fingers.  Ever since he'd put in with the evening tide, he'd been hearing how 'there be squab waitin' fer the bird at the Bride.'  He didn't want to show how much fear was mixed into his elation; not now, when James was so obviously on his scuppers.

"Quite obviously, he has been spending too much time with you. I hope he has not picked up more of your nastier habits." The grin on James' face was a bit too wide, but a valiant attempt. "So I take it he is as well as you seem to be?"

"All's as well as can be, luv." Jack paused.  The questions were screaming in his head but he didn't dare to breathe them.

James could see them well enough, had always known they would come, but he wasn't ready to answer them. No preparation could do that and his pride would not let him simply say 'I have nowhere else to go.'

"That is good to hear," he said, stretching back on the bed and closing his eyes for just a few seconds.

Jack hesitated for a moment, then lay down beside him and slowly crawled into his arms until his head rested on James' shoulder, like a child seeking comfort. "I missed you."

It was strangely comforting for James to hear that. Comforting not to hear that question spoken aloud or any of the thousand others he'd had to hear in the past weeks. He didn't answer but for a very brief press of his arm around Jack's shoulders.

Jack breathed in the scent of him, imperfectly washed, warm and familiar.  He'd dreamed it often enough, his face buried in James' pillow on the Chimaera or snatched in brief moments from the folds of the shirt he'd left behind once he had returned to the Pearl.

"Just got back from deliverin' some goods a bit further north or I'da been here sooner.  I'm sorry, luv. "

"For what? That you did not spend all your time carousing in Tortuga?" James laughed against his neck. "I...I am glad you are here now."

Jack clung to him.  "I am, too.  There's been so much t'do.  Oh Jamie."  His words were too ridiculous to voice and he paused long enough to steady himself.

"Been runnin' around like a headless chicken, fencin' all them goods.  But, luv, yer finally gonna meet me Pearl, properly.  No undead pirates, I swear on pain o' death."

"No headless chickens either, I hope." Another soft laugh.  "I...I missed you as well." James rolled onto his side to better see Jack, nearly wincing at the gleam he saw there at the mention of the Pearl. "So you did get her back."

Jack nodded slowly, his eyes closed.  "Aye, I did."  When he looked up again, he was chewing on his lip and his face had gone dusky.  "I have a confession t'make, Jamie.  I don't want you takin' it amiss.  Can ya hear me out an' slap me later?"

James pulled away, studied Jack's face, then nodded.

His grip tightened.  "I need you to understand why I didn't tell you.  Or---oh hell!"  He gulped and sat up, fingers straying through James' unruly hair.  "I got a letter back here when we made port in Dakar.  I wasn't here but a fortnight when the Pearl came glidin' inta the bay."  He drew up his legs and rested his chin on his knees, waiting for the inevitable explosion of anger and recrimination.

Instead there was silence as James only stared at him, then swallowed and looked down. "I understand why you could not mention me in a letter addressed to Tortuga," he whispered. "But not why you could not tell me." He was shaking, fists twisted into the linen sheet. Dakar. That had been long before he was declared dead. Before Port Royal had given up on him.

"I didn't want t'get yer hopes up lest it hadn't got anywhere at all.  And once I knew it had gone,"  Jack swallowed thickly,  "I forgot."

He blinked hard and cringed under James' gaze.  "Well, not really forgot but it just slipped me mind.  Jesus, James I'm sorry.  How could I have known?  It didn't say anythin' much.  Just enough t'let Gibbs know wot happened t'me."

He hung his head and fidgeted with the end of his sash.  "If I'd mentioned you were with me, he woulda tried t'tell someone.  You know wot that woulda cost him and the whole crew, maybe even the Pearl herself."

James did understand, he knew it all too well. But in a strange, wicked way, it did not help. Know what he might, it didn't help the other knowledge that, perhaps, had there been a sign of life from him he wouldn't be where he was now. It was selfish and irrational, but to know that only made it worse. "You could have told me. I trusted you. You could have trusted me," he whispered and jumped to his feet, pacing through the room.

When he stopped, he was trembling. "I am sorry. I did not mean..."

"I know wot you meant, James.  It coulda saved ev'rything for you."  Jack's voice was so low he had to strain to hear it.  "I'm so sorry.  It were the night of the stars, when I gave Berks that braid.  That's wot I gave it him for--payment fer sending that letter."  He shook his head and looked up, his eyes bruised amid smears of kohl. "I-I oh.  G'wan.  I deserve it."  His eyes closed and he tensed, waiting for a blow.

James raised his hand, stared at it, then shook his head and slumped onto the bed. He wasn't angry. He had no desire to wonder what would have been different had that letter mentioned him. His anger and his wonder had burnt themselves out in hard weeks; what was left were the cold ashes of resignation. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again. "You do not. It is not your fault."

Jack opened one eye, then the other and James found himself with an armful of pirate.  "Luv, I really did miss you somethin' dreadful.  Ain't been right fer weeks.  I know wotever's happened must be damned bad and I know you don't wanna speak of it.  But James, believe me, I never meant..." he stopped and clung like a leech.  "Just know you've a place here and those who want you."

They lay still for awhile, and when they pulled apart, James was trying to smile again. "Then do not let your crew wait. They are waiting for their captain to celebrate a successful haul."

Jack could have wept at his eyes, all the sadder for being dry.  "I'm not goin' anywhere without you and I'm not takin' no fer an answer either.  Yer comin' with me to the Pearl."  His fingertips hovered along James' jaw.  "Even if you never forgive me, at least let me treat ya right once."

James nodded gratefully. "Let us leave. I have stayed here long enough." He grabbed his duffle. "Ready when you are, Captain."

Jack made himself smile and suddenly, he darted forward and kissed James hard.  "Let's get outta this shitehole, then."

Jack played to the crowd downstairs but his eyes never rested on anything but James for long.  When they rowed the longboat back to where the dark shape of the Pearl lay, silvered in moonlight, he handed over a line and smiled.  "Up ya go, luv."

His feet were barely on the deck when he turned to James with a grin.  "Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Jamie.  We're honoured t'have ya here."

He watched James take in the magnificent woodwork, the gargoyles and nymphs leering seductively from every surface, and he grinned.  "She's happy t'have ya, too."

"She is beautiful, Jack. And every bit as eccentric as I have come to expect from you. Although I do believe what you are flying there is an actual flag rather than underwear."

He cast another appreciative glance around the ship. "I understand why you were so set on getting her back."

There was a sudden squawk from somewhere on the deck and James spun around. "Bwaaaaaak, fresh meat, fresh meat!"

Jack yanked off his hat and waved it frantically.  "Bloody pack o'feathers!  I swear I'm gonna stuff a mattress with you!"

The old man serving as a throne for the parrot shrugged an apology to the laughter of the watch crew.

"New recruit, Cap'n?"

Jamie, this is Tearlach.  And Twizzle and Mick.  Mr. Gibbs you know.  This is Mr. Cotton.  And that's Mr. Cotton's parrot."  He glared and went on naming the crew until Van stepped forward.

"Gut to see you again, James."

From deep below, the Pearl uttered a soft sound that only Jack heard, a little sigh of pleasure.

He hoped that she was right.

Jack Sparrow was very good at whisking people away in such a fashion that they were too charmed to care.  He was quite skilled in riding the currents and diverting attention as he needed, but there was little he could do to rouse James.  The man was sleepwalking, his voice softer than ever, his eyes shuttered and empty.

Jack knew that feeling much too well to press the matter.  He was, as he often crowed, no fool and if Norrington was 'dead' to the Navy, it did not take any great insight to understand the consequences. That didn't mean Jack abandoned his efforts.  He kept up a running conversation with James' monosyllabic grunts. He showed off his Pearl with delight and left James time alone, appearing out of nowhere with a cheerful inanity or strange observation that usually provoked at least a reluctant laugh.

It was not that James did not appreciate the effort. He honestly did, and that was yet more reason for him to withdraw, why he would scramble aloft and sit astride a yardarm to stare until the sea's glare in the bright sunlight became too much to bear. He was short-tempered and knew all too well he was bad company.

He appreciated what Jack did, and had no wish to reward it  with anger and disinterest, yet that seemed to be all could muster. So he sought solitude and turned the matter over and over in his head, wallowing in his own despair.

Jack swayed into the Great Cabin the third day James was aboard, moping after burning his nose bright red.  "Jamie, yer not doin' yerself much good," he scowled, throwing himself into a chair, his feet on the table. "Are you tryin' to prove all those rumours that I'm crazy from the sun?"

"I know they are not only rumours," James said quietly, then bent back to stare blankly at the map he had found on the desk.

"Listen, mate.  Wotever happened back in Port Royal ain't gonna stop followin' you around until ya put yer sights in some other direction, as it were.  You've got t'do somethin' with yerself, luv.  Can't properly sail without a course."  He leaned forward and poured glasses from the squat decanter on the table.  "Now, y'see, I'm dreadful overworked here.  It's makin' me mad.  I'm not cut out fer mannin' two ships." 

He paused, then sat back, the glass balanced on his chest.  "The Penelope is waitin', James."

James looked up, sighed, forced a smile, and shook his head. "Jack, I appreciate what you are trying to do and I know you mean your generous offer well." He paused, the thought all too tempting. His own ship again, a place where he could not only stay but also be his own master.  "But I cannot. No matter what, I will not turn against the law. I will not become a pirate captain."

It would be the last step, to truly give up all he had been, to turn into what he had fought against for the better part of his life. He wouldn't do that. Perhaps it was pride, but that was all he had left.

Jack gulped down his drink.  "Figgered you'd say that.  Well, would you consider helpin' me a little?  She's in the midst of a refit that's takin' some time."  Jack's eyes were wide and altogether too earnest.  "Cross me heart, no raids or such.  Just help me keep th' crews workin' together whilst I find someone t'captain her.  Wot say you to that?"

James shrugged without looking up. "If you can find no one else for the interim."

It was utterly unlike him, this indifference, and finally, he did straighten and look at Jack. "I am no fool. I know you are trying to play me, and if you want, I will play along. I will watch over her until you find someone to captain the Chimaera properly piratical and do Commodore Sparrow honour. But I will not change my stance on the matter."

Jack's nose wrinkled.  "Bugger!"  He huffed back into his chair, lips pushed out, his dark eyes spilling worry as he bit his lip and studied the amber droplets in the bottom of his glass.  "If you go on not changin', James, yer gonna go on feelin' like a beached wreck.  Think on that."

He left as abruptly as he'd come and went topside to work off his frustration in the shrouds, muttering to the Pearl about obstinate, loyal, stupid Englishmen and didn't she think it was time he used a belaying pin to knock some sense into James' thick head?

Clearly, Norrington was at a place where he could not be trusted to make any decision for himself or anyone else.  That was another problem Jack knew rather too well.  He knew that being a captain of any ship was in one's mind and heart first.  The reality came later.  James wasn't fit to command a gull to shite and that was the plain truth of it.

His fingers flew, repairing a few gaskets and checking lines with exaggerated care.  For the past month, Jack had been rediscovering the Pearl and spent much of his free time happily mooning over her every joint.  He touched her, heard her, smelled her, saw her every shadow and corner and fell in love all over again.  He knew damned well that James should feel the same about his lovely girl, now lying on her side while two crews hammered copper to her freshly careened keel.

Of all the stubborn fool things he'd seen Norrington do in these months, this was the worst and most unfair to him, to the Penelope, and most of all, to James.

James paced the Great Cabin as if his steps could take him anywhere,  then tore to the casement, leaning out and taking a deep breath, his clenched fists trembling. What the hell did Jack think? That he enjoyed being cast adrift? That, like a man on a sinking ship, he would throw overboard everything he held dear?

He craved his own ship, one that nobody could take from him by right.  But not at the cost of the last part of himself he could still call his own. Not against the dedication he steadfastly upheld. He was who he was and could not simply shed and add layers as he pleased. And he wasn't the man that Jack looked for to captain the Pen- Chimaera. Only a captain could rename a ship.

He shuddered and gripped the dark wood tightly. The Pearl. She was everything to Jack; could make his eyes gleam with tears and joy. A fine thing, having a ship for a purpose, and infinitely easier than an ideal.

The Pearl gave a soft mutter beneath him and lurched, heaving him against the sill.  There were times that Jack's 'dark lady' had a temper.

He hoisted himself upright with a hiss, flinching when one of the double doors creaked open. "Can you not..."

It wasn't Jack. It was Matthew, staring at him with round eyes. He took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Good evening, Mattie."

The boy watched him cautiously.  "Has Jack got your knickers in a twist again?"

"He probably would like to." James grinned and bit his lower lip. "But no, this is not about him at all." He struggled to keep his voice even, then crouched down and petted the deck next to him. He was in no mood for company, but could not well turn away the boy.

Matthew slouched to sit beside him, a practised imitation of Jack's sudden collapses.  "Then why're you down here?  What's wrong?  There's lots to do and we've been 'round to Havana and back!"  His eyes were shining.

James smiled until the sides of his lips hurt from being forced into that position. He bit back a bitter laugh. "I am tired," he said, patting Matthew's shoulder. "Matters in Port Royal did not go as I had expected, and that makes me sad."

The boy's hand was warm in his.  "That's bloody awful.  But you're back with us and that's good, ain't it?"  His eyes were curious and concerned, yet they had the distance from adult pain that only children possess; the same look he'd had so long ago when he had told Jack that they would throw James overboard if he couldn't work his keep.

James sighed. He didn't rightly know what to tell Matthew, but he had sworn to himself that he would not lie to the boy even if he could not understand the truth, even if he would rather not revisit it. "It's not that easy. I did not want to leave. But they did not want me back."

"Why not?"  The question came like a shot.  "That don't make sense, James.  You're a good mate, done fine things, I guess."  He blushed.

James swallowed hard and his smile faltered. "Life is different there. They think I left and betrayed them. I never did, but they would not listen and called me a liar."

Matthew gnawed on his lip before looking up at James.  "Heard tell you lied to us here, too.  'Bout who you are, but that's alright.  You're a gentleman, aren't you?"

"I was. I do not think anyone in Port Royal would tell you that now." James bit down hard on his lip, struggling to keep the bitterness at bay.

The boy's eyes were very round and blue, sharp intelligence working behind their transparency.  “You once told me that a man's worth ain't what others think of him, but what he thinks of himself.  If that's true, then what do they matter?  'Specially now."  He spoke slowly, as if piecing together a part of a puzzle that did not yet make sense to him.

James couldn't look at Matthew. He was staring at some point in the distance and struggling with a question that seemed so easy.

"Sometimes, others have an influence on your life that you cannot change. I thought of myself as the man I had been, but nobody else did. They did not even give me a chance. Loyalty, Matthew, is a sword that cuts both ways, and even the most loyal can be cut if it is turned against them." His voice, too, was sharp.

"Jack is loyal," Matthew said simply.  "So am I.  We wouldn't turn on you."

James remembered Gillette, a friend who had grown up with him shipboard, the most loyal officer he'd ever known, remembered the cold helplessness in his eyes when he'd seen James' situation and could not help. He also remembered the cold stab as he'd ordered that friend to save his own reputation and career, remembered all too well.

"It is not that easy, Matthew. Sometimes those dearest to you are those who hurt you the most, because they are the only ones who can."

He heard himself, harsh and bitter, and recoiled, jumping to his feet. "I am sorry. I am not suitable company at the moment." Without waiting for a reply he strode to the double doors, almost running until he hauled himself up to the foretop, sitting there, alone, trembling, panting heavily.

What a pitiful sight he was! To lose his composure in front of a boy, to leave him like that, wondering which of his innocent words had caused James' outburst. Matthew wouldn't find an answer and James didn't have one either.

He waited for his breathing to steady before he returned to the Great Cabin, a studied apology on his lips, but Matthew was gone, scared away. James didn't have the strength to go looking for him. Instead he grabbed the lone bottle on the table and rushed topside again.

He peered aloft, drawn to the quiet solitude, but the weight of the bottle in his hand told him he could not rightly go there. Instead he marched - tall, upright, every fibre of his body strung to breaking - to the bow, climbing out over the bowsprit and down into the netting beneath.

There, at last, he was alone, only the spray tickling his face. The Pearl's figurehead loomed close, noble and dark and somehow comforting. He sighed out a sob and curled into himself, letting the warm burn of the rum pour down his throat.

Jack had to pull back to keep from being run down as James passed without a glance.  He raised one eyebrow and was about to clamber down the hatch when Matthew emerged, blinking, into the sunlight. 

"He's like a great bloody bear lookin' fer a den, ain't he?"

Matthew nodded and Jack scowled.  He handed over his hat and swordbelt.  "Take care o' my effects.  An' toss down another bottle when I whistle, aye?" 

He peered over the bow and shooed the boy to the Great Cabin, leaning back to watch the Pearl's sails flutter like stormclouds against the sky.  Abruptly, he stomped down to the galley, grabbed that bottle himself and swung himself over the rail.  He landed beside James, the net pressing them together, close as their awkward hammock.

Jack didn't say a thing.  He uncorked the bottle and clinked it against James'.

James had already downed too much, and still wanted to be alone. He snarled angrily, stopped and rolled over, turning his back to Jack and edging away as far as he could. He was close, too close, and any word or touch would only make it worse. So he just stared out over the sea, drinking deep from his bottle, and if some of the salty drops on his face were not sea water, at least nobody would see it.

Jack let him be, content to suck at the rum and watch the sky spinning in circles if he stared too long at one spot.  He was silent until the sun left the Pearl's mooring in shadow and the humid air began to cool.  He laid one hand on James' shoulder.

James flinched as if struck and jerked away, then turned. His eyes were dry again, unfocused from the contents no longer in his bottle, and gleaming with anger that was eager to find a target. "Is there not one place aboard this blasted ship where I can be alone?"

"Not when yer gonna run amuck and act like an ass."  Jack grinned at the spark in his eyes.  He braced himself as well as a mildly inebriated man could in the netting and wondered if Jamie would take the bait or if he would have to do the honours.

James stared at him and shoved him away, then thought better and plucked the bottle from Jack's grasp. He was more than a little drunk and could feel the last bits of his control slipping away. He did not want that, and especially, he did not want anyone to witness it. "Do not worry," he snarled, "I will not damage your precious ship. Just leave me be."

Jack sighed, pulled himself up and grabbed James' collar.  "Go on and bloody do it.  You know you wanna.  Never mind.  I'll do it for you."

Jack slugged him.

James' head fell back and he punched Jack, a reaction so deeply inbred that he did not even think of it. It was relieving somehow, and Jack fought back just enough to keep James going until he was perched atop the pirate, holding him down brutally, fist pulled back for another blow.

He dropped it and hauled himself off Jack with a stifled moan, curling into himself and shaking. "Please," he whimpered. "Just leave me be. You can see where this leads."

It had been all too easy, to see Winthrop's face instead of Jack's, to think of a letter that could, perhaps, have saved him, to add blow upon blow, and James did not want that. If he did not have the strength to control himself, he was dangerous and should be avoided.

Jack rolled to hang onto him and refused to let go.  "Can't do that, luv.  I'm not goin' anywhere and if we have t'beat each other senseless before you stop wallowin' and decide to be a damned man instead of whinin' that fate's dealt ya a nasty hand, so be it."  He was breathless and spat a mouthful of blood into the water, sucking on his split lip.

James spun around again, his eyes too bright. Let Jack think what he would, at least he would know where and how far he pushed. "If only a pirate may be a man, perhaps I'd rather be none," he snarled. "They've betrayed me. I worked and bled for them and they betrayed me. Dropped me like a hot stone because they'd rather have a fine eulogy." His eyes were too bright.

“And damn me, but I will not betray them. I swore an oath, Jack." James' voice was more agitated than Jack had ever heard it. "I swore an oath and if they do not hold true to their part, it does not mean I will break mine."

"How the devil can that surprise you, James?  You know wot they are, and yer branded, as sure as if the hot iron were against yer skin.  Nothin' will ever change that, luv.  I told you once that it don't happen....ah, the hell with it.  The hell with it all.  Listen t'me, Jamie.  Yer gonna do wot ya want, regardless, but I am not standin' by and watchin' you fade away like a shadow.  Dammit, man, that's exactly wot they want.  For you to just slink away with yer tail between yer legs."

Jack swallowed hard, and, in that moment, staring into James' anguished eyes, he began to see a way out of it all.  The pinprick of an idea grew to enormous size within a heartbeat.  "James, yer a sailor.  You can't go off to some desk.  You've got t'be shipboard.  It's wot you know.  Tell me, all moanin' about the disloyal and ungrateful citizens of Port Royal aside, wot in hell are you gonna DO?"

James shrugged violently and threw off Jack's arms. "I don't know. I bloody well don't know, Jack." The rum was heavy on his breath and heavier still in his words. "But I will not go against the law." His voice was slurred, his tongue heavy, but his intent clearer than all the hiding of the past days. "Don't you understand? Not at all? They took so much from me. And they will not have my belief that there is right and wrong. They just won't have it."

Jack's arms came around him again, and he stopped fighting, as though the words had drained all energy out of him. "They can call me a savage, a wild creature without civilisation. They can call me a traitor, but I won't let them make me one."

"I know, luv.  I can imagine they're sayin' worse, too."  Jack clung to him.  "We'll figger somethin' out, but James, you cannot just keep flounderin' around like a jellyfish with the shites.  Tell ya wot, luv.  You just stay put here on the Pearl.  Give it a few days.  And maybe we can speed up a redress fer yer wrongs, as it were."

James didn't answer. His strength to fight or scream or run away to bloody well be alone was quite gone. His head was spinning and he was trembling, not hearing Jack's words, only the roaring in his ears again. Pressed close, his face against Jack's shoulder, it was warm and dark; and close enough to the solitude he craved.

Jack muttered all manner of nonsense in his ear, his voice soft and low, his arms closed against the outside world.  He held James close until the convulsive shuddering ceased.  "C'mon, Jamie.  Let's at least get on deck.  Me arse is gettin' damp here."

A soft snore was his only answer. Somewhere between rum and despair and comfort, James had fallen fast asleep.

Jack sighed and rolled them both over so he could hang onto James and stare at the skies.  As promised, Matthew dropped a bottle down to him at a whistle and it clinked against his belt.  He watched the heavens shade from blue to purple and winked at the first star.  When it was velvet midnight, he roused James enough to get them both aboard and steered his soggy companion straight to bed.

Later that night, James, still more drunk than sober, but calm, told him about Port Royal. Jack didn't need to speak a word; he just waited until eventually James spilled the whole tale in a haze of words, torn between the sting of memory and the mask of indifference he struggled to maintain. Sometimes there was a longer pause, but he continued to talk until there was nothing left to say and, relieved, he succumbed to sleep.

Two things stuck in Jack's head as he listened.  The first was that glimmer of a plan that had exploded in the midst of their fistfight.  It was aided and abetted by the second; that the good Commodore Archer had to fetch Admiral Winthrop from Nassau.

Nassau, where the Governor had issued Hamilton's Letter of Marque and had provided him with chart after chart of Navy patrols.

Jack watched James sleep and wondered if all gentlemen had rocks in their heads.  James was understandably distressed to find himself a pariah in his home, but was he so upset that he didn't see the strategic kernel of truth right there in front of his nose?

Apparently.

Governor Hallem and Winthrop were working together with privateers.  Even Matthew could have divined that.  For riches?  Obviously, but to break their own laws so transparently?  For what purpose?  Jack slipped out of James' embrace and went topside.

It was time to pay a little visit to Nassau.

In the morning, he found himself pinned under James again and slithered free to splash in the basin, singing to himself as he touched up his eyes and tugged hopefully at the scruff of his half-grown beard.  After four months, it was still woefully ragged, not even long enough to properly part and braid. He would just have to put up with more of Ana's remarks until it grew out.  He twirled what he could of his moustache and growled at his own reflection, remembering her hoots of laughter.  Sometimes, being the best pirate in the Caribbean was such a trial.

James stirred at another snarl, pushing himself up.  "Maybe if you drench it in rum, it will grow faster." His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat, remembering the cause of his headache and the consequences with a wince, eyeing Jack warily. "I feel I must apologise for last night."

He slipped out of the bed, stumbled and cursed. It was as if Jack's bloody ship mocked him, or they were out at sea again. He glanced out of the casement and raised an eyebrow.

Jack looked up from the mirror.  "Don't worry about it, luv.  Sounds like you need yer coffee."  He poured a fresh cup from the silver pot and handed it over.  "Black, no sugar.  Think I remembered rightly."  James looked much more like any man suffering with a head than one liable to throw himself from the yards into open water.  "And I tried rum.  An' some evil mixture ole Clambers swears by.  It's just not growin'."

James sat down and sipped his coffee, breathing a relieved sigh. Obviously Jack did not intend to discuss the matter. Whatever else Jack might think, James did not particularly like indulging in his humiliation. "Maybe if I pulled at it hard enough?" he muttered.

Jack stuck out his tongue and finished his first cup of sugar-syrup coffee, poured another and spiked it with his usual 'breakfast'.  "Want anythin' t'eat yet?" He bounded to the casement and watched the gulls wheeling over the Pearl's wake.  "Bloody birds.  Think they're tailin' us."

"I believe it is mating season and they are attracted to your flapping arms." James did look better than the day before. Certainly, there were dark rings beneath his eyes and lines of worry that had not been there a month ago, but at least a bit of that dreadful apathy was gone from his eyes.

"You look like the very devil."  Jack couldn't resist stealing a morning kiss.  "And you've been landlocked fer too long.  Thought a nice little voyage might blow th' cobwebs outta yer hair."  He tweaked one of the braids with a grin.  Jack was more than touched that they were still twined in Norrington's shaggy mop, the coin and the ivory bead clacking together faintly.  "Can't say I'm surprised they all thought you'd lost yer mind," he teased.

"I have been spending too much time with you, that much is true. Although I do believe I am less affected than young Matthew. I shudder to think what other dreadful habits he has picked up from you."  They had barely touched, let alone kissed. in the past days and there was a strange hesitance in James' movement as he returned the kiss. "If I am the devil, would you be one of my fiends?"

Jack refrained from bouncing atop him for fear of a hot coffee bath.  He pushed his hair out of his eyes and beamed.  "There's much to be said for fiends.  Always thought I'd rather be a nice li'l fiend than a borin' angel."  He treated himself to another kiss and flitted around the cabin. 

"Now, I got new duds fer ya, too.  I can't believe the condition o' that linen, mate!  Did ya stuff it in a dustheap?"  He tossed a fresh shirt at James.  "As fer young Matthew, I swear, he's grown two inches since ya left.  Can't keep him in britches.  An' he could use some o' your sword-practise."  Jack decided that any further talk of James' troubles would only serve to make his eyes sad and lost again.

"No, they look like anything or anyone who has been in Tortuga for more than a passing second." James peeled off the shirt, still damp with the sweat and sea spray of the previous day, washed quickly and pulled on the new one. "I do hope you have not taught him any more of your 'smart' piratical featherdusting manoeuvres?"

Jack swatted his bare backside.  "I'll featherdust you!  C'mon, we're makin' good speed and I want you t'see my girl in action."  James' grin was enough to make Jack happy for days and he refrained from any reminder that 'sussin' people out' often required a good drunk and a fistfight.

James touched one finger to Jack's lip, smiled crookedly, then rushed topside without another word. Jack veered to the quarterdeck but James remained amidships, watching from a distance as Matthew climbed down from the foretop.

He weighed the words for an apology and settled for a smile, patting his sword's hilt. "Good morning, lad. Shall we see how much damage Jack did to your fencing?"

It took about a second of wariness for Matthew's eyes to light up, and considerably less time for him to dash off to get his sword.

James was leaning casually against the rail when he returned, lunging into a first surprise attack which James easily parried, clucking in disapproval. "Now, young Master Matthew, what did I teach you about sparring and En Garde? Do you wish to spend another day repeating that lesson?"

Matthew's eyes widened comically, a strange, if this time unconscious, imitation of Jack, and he scrambled to pull himself into the proper position. "Now that is better."

Soon they were chasing each other across the deck, exchanging blow for blow. The sun did the rest and quickly James' new shirt was drenched in sweat, clinging to his skin. Matthew was an excellent student but focused too much on his high guard.

He was scowling by the time James' blade touched his knee for the tenth time. By the twentieth, he had learnt to parry every second attack there, and, with time, he got better still.

James watched his student with a smile, exercising until Matthew's head drooped as much as his sword and they withdrew into the shade, breathless and sweat-drenched.

Jack stood at the wheel, one hand wrapped possessively around a spoke and grinning like a madman.  James' face was alive for the first time since Tortuga and Jack promised himself that he'd risk bringing fresh milk aboard so Matthew could have a big mug of that fine cocoa they'd lifted from a little Dutch prize they had stumbled upon on their way back from Havana, just for putting that smile on Jamie's face. 

He leaned forward over the wheel.  "Pearl, my heart, we've got him back and he won't be such a silly ass fer long.  So, my love, speed us on and let's take a look-see at wot them buggers in Nassau have been up to."

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