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A Spirit from the Vasty Deep

by Rennie
Written for Melusina's Halloween Challenge, October 2005

Part the First
Part the Second
Part the Third
Part the Fourth
Part the Fifth
Part the Sixth
Part the Seventh
Part the Eighth

Part the Fifth

Norrington headed back out to the deck to enjoy the voyage. It had been entertaining teasing Jack; he would have to think of something to pull on the man. It had been quite a while since he had indulged in pranks and the like and he felt that a bit of refreshment to his skills was in order. He was not certain how much effect he would be able to exert upon the physical realm at present but he should be able to cobble something together in the non-corporeal.

For the moment, James elected to make a round of the decks, just to ensure all was being performed correctly. It was something he had always enjoyed doing and saw no reason to not continue with the practice merely because he was among the deceased. He really did not have any concerns about how the Black Pearl was being handled but old habits said to always see for oneself and it was a little something he could do to return the ship’s courtesy in permitting him aboard.

He had wandered along to the galley where the cook was attending to his potions and rituals when he was rejoined by the large tortoiseshell cat as she had just finished her meal. He was not surprised to find her in the cook’s domain as her substantial bulk did suggest she was very fond of her dinner. She came up by his foot and indicated she wished him to attend her, patting his ankle with a paw and calling up to him. He saw no reason not to oblige the lady and did as she had ordered, first bending down to stroke several times along her back and up the fluffy tail, scratching lightly over her hips. Crouched down in pleasure, tail end high, she rewarded his attentions by a sudden twist to bite at his hand in fond possessiveness; fortunately he was not yet substantial enough for her to damage his skin.

Chiding her lightly for the attempted nip, Norrington chanced to look up to see the cook watching the cat’s performance and turn surprisingly ashen for a man with such a dark complexioned face. It would seem that his presence was distressing the man’s sensibilities somewhat. Norrington would have liked to apologize for causing the distress but he was convinced the cook would not appreciate hearing a voice coming from thin air. He straightened up from his cat stroking and quietly made his exit from the galley, thinking perhaps the cook would be more relaxed about the Commodore’s presence on a later date. The cat remained in the galley in hope of receiving another tidbit from her personal cook; after all, she had brought the man several rewards from her hunts on other occasions so it was only fair.

Anamaria had the helm duty so Norrington decided to go up and observe how she handled the ship. He had seen her about the ship and was curious to see how a woman would handle a large complex vessel such as the Black Pearl. He stood in front of the wheel and looked closely at her, admiring the comely features and form clad in men’s clothing. He might not consider the garments fit for a lady but he could not deny their practical application for such a role. He had a sudden memory of Elizabeth in a marine’s uniform; quite fetching if a bit shocking to the ship’s company. He would have been interested to have seen her upset the mavens of Port Royal society; there would have been much twittering and finger pointing but Elizabeth would have sailed onward regardless.

He wondered idly what his former fiancée was up to now, probably leading her young husband and her father a merry chase. She had always been headstrong and hot to hand; maybe young Turner had found a way to steady her somewhat, although he had shown the odd kick in his step as well. For all the chap had pirate in his blood, it was his wife who was the true pirate in their little family. He smiled in remembrance; life around Elizabeth would never be dull. Perhaps once they had started their nursery, the headstrong young woman would learn to be a trifle more circumspect in her actions around Port Royal’s judgmental society.

He walked around Anamaria to take up position to her left so he could watch her hands on the wheel as she made the adjustments to guide the Pearl’s movements through wind and wave. It took strength as well as sensitivity to do the task well and it would appear that the Pearl and her helmswoman worked well together. It was also a fact that the young island woman was not difficult to look at, at least when she was not glaring fit to shatter mirrors. He thought she would have to be very capable to hold her own among a crew of men and would have to have the fierceness and strength of personality to counter her slim build. He was curious about her story, how she had come to be a sailor and to the Pearl, he would inquire of the ship when they conversed next. For the moment, Norrington was quite content to be where he was.

He stood beside her for the rest of the watch, approving her expertise under current conditions. He would reserve his judgment until he had had occasion to witness Anamaria’s guidance and control of the Black Pearl in heavier weather. He mentioned to the Pearl that the ship was fortunate in her helmsmen, and woman; all appeared to not only be competent but respectful of her person. He felt the ship’s satisfaction with his compliment manifest as a surging lift into the waves, the Pearl’s pleasure bringing a matching smile to Anamaria’s face. The Commodore thought the young woman’s appearance was much improved by the absence of the habitual fierce scowl that drew her face into such harsh lines.

The watch changed and Jack did not make an appearance. Norrington began to wonder if he should go by and check on the man or if it would be better to just let him sleep off the headache brought on by a ghostly passenger. He decided his presence would not be appreciated in the cabin below, besides he was content where he was. The time for the watch change came and the very minute sailor clambered up to the quarterdeck and waited until the sand in the hourglass ran through. Reversing the glass, the sailor then rang the ship’s bell briskly to signal the crew. Marty walked over to the rail and hollered down amidships to hurry along the other tar supposed stand the watch with him.

Norrington was fascinated by the small man. The single beard braid with its mandatory bead, the tattoos, the garb, all showed the influence of one Jack Sparrow. James had seen dwarves before but never one who served as a regular crewman; he had watched Marty work at a number of tasks about the Black Pearl. Most of the time, the little man managed to hold his own but occasionally his stature worked against him. Norrington treasured the first time he had seen Marty haul away on a sheet in the midst of several other men. There had been several moments when he was hanging suspended from the manila, swinging madly feet above the deck; once his feet touched down on the deck again, he pulled right along with the rest of them.

This watch, Marty was teamed with the one called Kursar, The taller fellow took the upper part of the wheel and the more diminutive sailor grasped the wheel in the vicinity of Norrington’s kneecaps. James grinned widely at the sight and then left the pair to their duty. He had no place in mind to be for the time being so he strolled along the deck until he came to the rail above the starboard cathead. He rested his elbows on the dark wood and stared out at the sea, marking the early stars beginning to show in the darkening sky.

The night came quickly in these lower latitudes and sometimes he found himself nostalgic for the long twilights of his native soil. He looked upward, picking out the constellations and naming them from long habit, smiling at some he considered to be old friends, others faithful points from which to navigate. Thinking about navigation, James recollected that odd compass Sparrow had seemed so enamoured of. In fact, the worn box was still attached to the man’s broad belt with his other effects. He wondered what the story of the thing was and thought that the Black Pearl might be able to cast some light on the subject.

“Madame Pearl, would you happen to be able to spare some time to converse with me? I would understand, of course, if your duties deny you the freedom to do so at this moment.”

“There is no pressing matter for me to attend to for the present; all is as it should be. What do you wish to talk about this evening, Commodore?”

“I’ve been observing the stars and thinking about matters of navigation and remembered that most peculiar compass that your captain is so determined to retain possession of. Do you happen to know its story?”

“Some of it I know, the rest only my captain knows for certain.”

“When I first encountered Sparrow, he had that compass with him. It seemed to be broken and incapable of pointing north. I now wonder if it is not a broken tool but rather one that has another sort of tale altogether.” James felt that this was an opportunity to unearth a bit more information about his unwilling host. He took pleasure in his conversations with the ship and this evening was bidding to be a quiet one requiring little other than plain sailing for a time; the sea was moderate and the winds fair and steady.

“The compass is a thing of the past. Jack acquired it years ago when we both were young. It was off the coast of the island of the bull in the great warm sea to the east of here, far beyond the Pillars, where he came across it.”

James’ attention was now well and truly caught. The ship had said Sparrow and she had been together when ”both” were young; he was aware that Jack was some years older than he himself had been but he had had no idea how far back the history of ship and man might be. The other clues hinted at the eastern Mediterranean, far beyond Gibraltar and the Pillars of Hercules. The island of the bull, that could be Crete, if the old tales held any degree of truth. He wondered just when the two had first joined; the Black Pearl was a unique ship and Jack Sparrow had seen a good lot of water under his keel for all his seemingly ageless appearance.

“What were you doing in those waters, may I ask? The far side of the Mediterranean is not where I would have expected to find either of you.”

“What we always do, of course, seek out treasures wherever they may hide.”

“What sort of treasure took you so far away, almost to the Holy Land itself?”

“Not all treasure is silver or gold, sometimes we look for other kinds. That time, Jack had heard a tale in Morocco about a map and records of a Turkish sailor.”

“A Turkish sailor, you say?” There was only the one Turkish sailor James could think of whose name associated with a map could have lured the likes of Jack Sparrow into risking those dangerous waters.

“The one who was an admiral long ago.”

“I can see how that would pique Jack’s interest. What happened then?”

“Jack very cleverly found where one of the maps was hidden and managed to get a copy of part of it. The guards around that building were not the brightest but there were enough of them so that even my captain had to take what he could and get out while he still was able.”

The Black Pearl’s pride in her captain’s ingenuity and overall sneakiness came through clearly in her mental voice. Despite wanting to laugh at the comment, James carefully refrained from showing his amusement; pirate and pirate ship, it seemed there was not much to choose between them at times.

“Sounds like Jack. What happened to the copy he was able to acquire? I’ve not heard of any ventures of Sparrow’s that could connect with the Turk.”

“The mutiny happened and life changed.”

“Ah, I see a bit more clearly now. I shan’t trouble you further on this occasion, given that we are arrived back at Barbossa. Someday perhaps you would be kind enough to relate more of that time as I only know a few stories plus what I observed when we met up that first time. There are certainly other things we can converse about that do not cause distress for you.”

“Thank you, James, you are ever the gentleman.”

To Part the Sixth

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