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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 Seventh

A full week had passed since Jack had taken action against the ghost problem he had aboard the Pearl. He was leaning on the rail, basking in the morning sun, chewing reflectively on a piece of jerked beef. He had been of two minds about locking the books up but decided Norrington had earned the punishment for his discourtesy. The nagging feeling plaguing him at the moment was that he did understand the deceased man’s lapse of proper shipboard manners; after all, Jack loved his books and acquired a new one whenever opportunity presented itself. It must have been quite the temptation for the Navy fellow, him being dead and all. He sighed a bit, he would unlock the trunk in a day or two and then it would be up to the Commodore to figure how to remove a book if he wanted to read it.

He was still having some difficulty understanding why he, Captain Jack Sparrow, would be saddled with such a ghost. Barbossa and his lot at least had been pirates and scallywags of the lowest order so it was not unreasonable that the likes of those miscreants would come a-haunting. No, instead of pirate ghosts, he had a Royal Navy ghost of some stature and his love had been won over by the pretty manners. Imagine, actually inviting the Scourge aboard. Well, done was done and now Jack had to figure out what to do about his little problem.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Meantime, Jack’s “little problem” was plotting a retaliatory strike against the pirate captain who had so rudely taken away his books and locked them up so ostentatiously. James had already eliminated anything that involved potential damage to the Black Pearl, his hostess, or her crew. It would have to be something that targeted Jack and Jack alone.

While he was considering possible strategies, Norrington experimented on the trunk and the lock mechanism but his spectral skills had not yet developed sufficiently for him to open the trunk or to winkle a volume through the side panels. He was able to move his own hand in if he desired but it was apparent that he could not apply that transparency to other objects. Perhaps in due course, he would develop that ability; he saw the value in it so that would be one of his goals for the future.

Giving up on the padlock for the time, the ghost retreated to the window bench and made himself comfortable, propping his back into the corner of the bulkhead and bringing his feet up onto the seat. He braced his elbows against his knees and rested his chin on his hands, watching the sea churn in their wake and enjoying the bright sunshine. He looked around as a heavy thud announced the return of the cat as she leaped up to join him in the warmth. James smiled at her and she blinked back at him, the pair of them enjoying the day and the companionship. He reached over to her and scratched under her chin, the contented purr indication of her satisfaction with her attendant’s well-trained fingers.

“You know, I really need to have something to address you by, Madame. I cannot just keep referring to you as the cat. I have been considering the matter and have a suggestion to make to you. Seeing as I am, or was, I suppose, human, I do not know your cat name. I mean, the name you know yourself by, as I am convinced those of your kind have their own appellations that humans do not know. Upon reflection, I have several names to put forward to you to make your choice. Does this meet with your approval?”

The hefty feline opened both eyes wide as she stood up and moved closer to Norrington, raising her paw to rest it on his leg. To make certain he understood her acceptance of his proposal, she also gave a trilling purr with an affirmative chirp before sitting solidly on his foot, allowing her tail to drape decoratively along the seat. James nodded his thanks before leaning forward to speak each name clearly and precisely, not realizing that the cat was perfectly happy with anything he suggested, as long as it was his voice she heard. After all, he was human and could not possibly understand the complexity of her true name that only cats knew.

“Caliope?”

“Athena?”

“Hannah?”

James went through several more names on his list, watching after each one to judge the cat’s reaction to the name. The selection process continued for the next five names without approval. It was not until he came to one name that the cat took notice. He looked at her carefully, asking if she was certain that was the one she wished him to address her by.

“Now, dear lady, you are absolutely certain this is the one you desire?”

He was rewarded with a quick lick of her raspy tongue to the back of his hand where it rested on his knee beside her.

“Very well. Agatha, it is.”

He smiled in satisfaction at his achievement and hummed an old familiar folk tune as the newly-christened Agatha eased around his leg and crawled into his lap, making herself comfortable in the sun’s warmth. She flicked her fluffy tail at him teasingly until he got the message and began to stroke her gently. In perfect accord, the pair sat there the rest of the morning.

When the sun was at its zenith, the door to the cabin opened to admit Jack, the noise of his boots on the deck waking both the cat and the haunt from their lazy somnolence. At first, the pirate captain did not notice the oddity on his window seat but after fetching a chart down, he happened to glance over to the stern lights. This time, the cat was perched on something that clearly was real to her but invisible to him as she appeared to be sprawled out a short distance above the cushions. For several moments Jack stared at what he could not see, even beginning to imagine a slight haze where Norrington’s spirit was apparently taking his ease. He really did not like this turn of events and felt an unpleasant rumble in his gut as his earlier breakfast made its presence felt.

Shivering a trifle, he turned back to his work, determined not to give in to the superstitious fear he felt. He might have been one of the undead pirates for a short time but that only went so far to overcome the beliefs of a lifetime. In a way, he almost wished the phantom Commodore would simply show himself like any decent person or go away completely; this in-between nonsense was upsetting. With that thought in mind, he shifted to the side of the table furthest from the windows and sat down in his chair to consult the chart he had brought out. After a while, Jack looked over to the bench and saw the cat still lying suspended in mid-air. He swallowed his rising gorge and then decided to open a conversation with Norrington, seeing as how the shade was not in a hurry to vacate his cabin.

“Well, Norrington, cannot you do something about your visible manifestation? It’s enough to make a man lose his last meal seeing that cat just hanging there. “’t ain’t natural.”

“You wish me to talk to you now, do you? I was under the impression that you wished nothing to do with me, Captain Sparrow, especially after the last incident.”

“Nothing’s changed there, just I don’t like seeing my cat floating about my cabin.”

“It does not appear to be disturbing Agatha in any manner that I can see.”

“Agatha? Who’s Agatha? We only have the three females on board, and that’s the Pearl, Anamaria and the cat.”

“Well, actually there are a few more but they live down in the holds, mostly, and are not the most sociable creatures I have met.”

“Down in the hold? What the devil are you goin’ on about, Norrington? I don’t have any other females aboard that I know about, particularly down in the holds, unless you are counting the rats…oh. You’ve been down inspecting the Pearl’s rats, then, have you?”

“I would not say inspecting would be the correct term, however, I have been down in the holds and have indeed met some of the rodent population you keep.”

“That’s why we have the cats. To catch the rats.”

“I should have thought that was obvious, Jack.”

“Of course, it’s obvious! Why else would we have the cats if not to catch and kill the rats? Can’t have rats running about the ship, getting into everything, gnawing and squeaking and making messes of everything. Hate the things with a passion, I do. So does the cook and when he’s upset, his cooking makes certain that all the rest of us are upset too. Hence, the cats to kill the rats.”

“No call to become so dyspeptic, Jack, I was merely agreeing with your statement concerning the vermin eradication programme you have aboard the Pearl.”

Jack stared hard at where he imagined the late Commodore’s face should have been, had the fellow the common decency to become visible. His temper was heating up again; he had almost decided to unlock the chest today and give the ghost a chance to have the books again but this attitude of Norrington’s was just not acceptable. Punishment, therefore, would be extended a bit longer.

“Do you know, Jack, when you get upset as you appear to be, there is a vein in your forehead that becomes quite prominent. In fact, one can almost see it throbbing. I do not believe that allowing yourself to get so worked up is good for a man of your age; one never knows what the consequences could be for unrestrained choleric outbursts.”

The solicitous concern for Jack’s well being and the slur about his age were too much. The pirate captain snarled at his spectral annoyance, snatched up his chart and marched out of his cabin, being sure to shut the door firmly behind him. It totally escaped him that he had not had the answer to his question as to the identity of this ‘Agatha’ creature.

Norrington and Agatha observed the retreat of the captain, the one simply continuing to purr, quite unmoved by the fuss and bother; the other smiling slightly in satisfaction at having routed Jack. He looked over to the table where Jack had had his chart laid out and noticed the captain’s battered and beloved leather cocked hat sitting off to one side. Putting the cat aside so that she was comfortable on the bench and after giving a caress to her soft ears and around her solid jaw, James stood and went over to the massive table to have a closer look at one of Jack’s treasured effects.

It was not the most attractive hat James had ever seen but at least it did not have all the feathery nonsense plastered over its brim like his fancy dress hat. The leather was old and worn, the sides stitched up to form the tricorne. The sweat stains along the inner band had penetrated to the outside of the leather and the sun had faded the colour although it was difficult to form any idea of what the hat’s true colour had been when it was first made. Jack apparently held much store by that hat and James wondered why that would be the case. He recalled the concern Jack had shown for his effects at their first meeting on the dock that day.

As he stood looking down at the pirate’s hat, James had an idea. He still needed to punish Sparrow for the insult over the books and the hat was beginning to inspire him. He reached out toward it and closed his eyes before attempting to feel the leather with his hand. Still with his eyes closed, James felt around the hat and began to learn the sense of it. He took a deep breath and imagined his hand picking up the hat by its brim; he imagined the weight of it in his fingers, the smoothness of the leather, the different textures where the leather had weathered or become worn and dirty. He opened his eyes when he thought he had made it real enough for his senses to latch on to and glanced at where he hoped the hat to now be. To his delight, James found the hat in his grip exactly as he had envisioned it; the situation had definite potential now and all he had to do was determine what steps he wished to take in the chastisement of one Jack Sparrow.

He decided the hat was innocent of its owner’s transgressions, therefore the hat could not actually be harmed. However, there should be sufficient latitude prior to the point of destruction to allow James to manipulate the hat’s owner through his cherished headpiece. He would have to contemplate the possibilities. For now, getting a grip on a corporeal object was a major step up in his spectral abilities. James concentrated firmly and he was successful in restoring the hat to its place on the ornate table amid Jack’s litter.

James decided that a bit of Jack-baiting would fill in his time nicely whilst he was planning the campaign. He needed to do some experimenting to determine his target’s sensitivity to supernatural occurrences of the small variety before attempting anything grander. He began to ponder pranks and strategies designed with Sparrow in mind, beginning to laugh deeply at the pictures that arose in his mind. Agatha slitted her eyes open and purred loudly, her ears pricking the better to hear the Commodore’s hilarity.

Elsewhere aboard the Black Pearl, shivers ran down several backs, hair rose on necks and arms. The ship gave a sudden dip and roll, catching her helmsman by surprise. As he firmed his grip on her wheel, Cotton looked up at the sky and around the decks for the cause of the ship’s hitch in her stride. Parrot ruffled its feathers and crept closer in to the grizzled whiskers of its partner, fixing a dilating eye on the mute man’s face before screeching out a warning to all and sundry.

Resigned, Gibbs looked up at the sails and reached for his old flask, giving it a shake before sighing a bit as he decided they really did have Norrington’s ghost aboard and hoping they would survive this latest go-round with the undead or dead-but-not-gone or whatever the Commodore now was. If they were lucky, Norrington would recollect that he had been a fair and decent man in life and that there were far worse felons out there than the crew aboard the Black Pearl.

In the galley, Jack Sparrow heard the echo of the laughter coming from his cabin and shuddered, meeting the now disturbed eyes of his cook. Maybe, just maybe, he ought to have unlocked that trunk a bit sooner, after all.

*~*~*~*~*~*

To Be Continued...

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