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Bill couldn’t
help smiling as Jack swayed precariously up the gangplank, flanked
by two painted females, the three of them singing decidedly off
key. The trio briefly lost its balance, staggered back, located
it again and continued on, presently gaining the deck.
“Firs’ Mate Sparrow reportin’ in, Mister Turner,” Jack announced,
focusing on Bill with some difficulty. Succeeding at last, his
gaze drifted downward and he frowned.
Bill said in low, admonishing tones, “Jack! You know Tobias won’t
stand for the ladies bein’ on the ship.”
Jack ignored this. “Lord, Bill! That shirt! A bit sudden, ain’t
it?”
Though the shirt was new, the jibe was an old one, and Bill gave
an exasperated snort. But the shorter of the girls gratified him
by exclaiming, “It’s a lovely shirt! Don’t know when I’ve seen
quite that shade o’ green!”
“An’ all that embroidery, too,” the taller, red-haired female
noted. “’S right pretty, it is!”
“Much obliged, ladies,” said Bill, nodding politely.
“’T’s his wife, back in England,” Jack informed the two, his expression
serious, though his eyes laughed. “Makes ‘em with ‘er own fair
hands, an’ sends ‘em out. A touch o’ home, like.”
“Oh! ’E’s a lucky man!” the short one opined, nodding vigorously
enough to set her yellow curls bobbing.
Red-head ran a hand up under Jack’s coat. “I’d make you a shirt!
Pretty as that! See if I won’t.”
Jack looked alarmed. “Oh, no, love! I’m a plain gent, me. Don’t
aspire to such sartorial splendor, I assure you.”
Bill and the girls laughed at this, for there were few men as
careful of their appearance as Jack Sparrow, as was obvious to
anyone with eyes.
Bill said, “I’ll spare you any more ‘splendor’, Jack, and take
these ladies off your hands. Don’t fall asleep on watch!”
“Ha! Not likely: just the thought o’ that shirt’ll keep me awake.
Adieu, mademoiselles. It’s been a pleasure.”
*
* O * *
“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow!
Ah, Mr. Twigg: I see you’re off to town. Would you be so obliging
as to escort these ladies back to their… er… lodgings. If you
please.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Bill leaned on the Pearl’s railing, watching this little
exchange, and Jack’s flamboyant bow to the departing females,
then straightened as his Captain swayed up the gangplank.
“Have an int’resting evening, Captain?” Bill smiled.
Jack chuckled as he achieved the deck, and patted his pocket,
which clinked in a familiar way. “Y’might say so. Couple o’ birds
ripe for pluckin’ over at the Cat ‘n’ Whistle. The ladies were
cheerin’ me on, as it were. But what’s this? Another shirt from
Mary?” Jack’s eyes and grin sparkled with suppressed laughter
as he looked over the newest addition to the Turner wardrobe.
Bill had to chuckle, too. “She writes she’s been ‘experimenting’
with her dyes.”
“The results ain’t entirely efficacious, Bill: that’s a devilish
color!”
“It’s red.”
“It’s orange! Y’look like a pumpkin.”
“She made it, Jack. It’s the thought that counts. She’s
fond of bright colors.”
“I’d noticed that, over the years,” Jack smirked.
Bill shook his head. “Leave off and look at this, though.” He
slipped his hand into the pocket of his waistcoat, drew out the
note, and handed it to Jack.
Jack unfolded it and read the careful, childish writing silently.
Dear Papa,
I hope this finds you well. Mama and I miss you very much.
Fair winds and following seas.
Your loving son,
Will
A little crease appeared between Jack’s dark brows, and he looked
up at Bill. “He can write! How old is he, now?”
“Five years last month.” Bill knew an ache of pride and longing
as he said it. “Mary says he’s smart as a whip. Looks just like
me, too.”
“That right?” Jack cocked his head. “Well, p’rhaps you’ll need
to see for yourself, one day soon, eh?”
There was no teasing in the smile, or in the eyes, now, and Bill
nodded, his heart suddenly lighter. “P’rhaps you’re right.”
“O’ course I’m right! Captain’s always right!” Jack folded up
the note, again, stepped close, and tucked it back in Bill’s pocket.
“You’re a lucky man, Bill Turner. A very lucky man.”
~.~
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