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Pearl Tales
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|
a Sweet Pilgrimage by
Geek Mama |
| aaa |
 GO
and catch a falling star,
*
“I thank you, but no: I would prefer to stay here on the Pearl. Smythe can very well fetch me what I need while you’re gone to the island.” But Jack looked down his nose at him and raised a brow. “Remind me t’ ask what you prefer next time the lads vote t’ make you captain. For now, you’re goin’ over with the rest of us.” James ground his teeth. * They used a sling to lower him carefully into the waiting cutter, a system similar to that used on naval vessels to accommodate the wounded. However, it had never fallen to his lot before, and he was stone-faced with chagrin. Their landing was easy enough. It was a quiet bay, the lap of wavelets and the crunch of sand the only sounds as they reached the shore. But then the two burly lads Jack had assigned to assist him managed to jostle him in doing so, and he was surprised into a hiss of pain. Jack flung a short, sharp rebuke at the pair. All apologies, the two transferred James to the stretcher without further mishap, and he closed his eyes, intently wishing himself otherwhere. He gave no sign when Jack briefly gripped his shoulder in sympathy. Feigned sleep gave way to unfeigned, as the plaguey exhaustion common to invalids overtook him yet again. * He woke as they reached the forest clearing, its thermal spring bubbling in a wide pool. It was beautiful, just as Jack had promised: cool shade and dabbled sun blessed the sand and grass that led toward the water, which was edged with ferns and reeds, and a few large boulders. They helped him to rise, and, with the aide of a stout stick, he hobbled over to settle on one of the latter. He watched Jack direct his men in setting up a temporary camp, a surfeit of ill-gotten riches and piratical luxury. When they were nearly finished, Jack came to him and swept an arm. “What d’ you think?” Norrington’s mouth twisted. “What if it rains?” Jack’s brows rose. He gave a theatrically suspicious glance at the sky, and then shook his head. “Wouldn’t dare.” He held out a beringed hand. “Come! Your couch awaits.” Norrington surveyed said couch, a mass of soft blankets, colorful fabrics, and many pillows. “I’m unlearned in the ways of a sybarite,” he said, coolly, though he immediately felt churlish. But Jack chuckled. “You’re a quick study in most things. I feel sure this ain’t beyond your capacity. Come. It’ll do you good.” James gave a slight snort of derision at that last, words he’d heard far too often in recent weeks, usually just before enduring some excruciating procedure, or being coaxed to swallow some horrid curative. However, he took the proffered hand, and refrained from further comment. * Jack and the other men took themselves off, leaving him with Anamaria. “She likes this place,” Jack had told him. “Likes to wash her clothes in all that fresh water, and take a bit of a bathe. We come here pretty regular. It ain’t just you that’s brought us.” Ana’s rather surly mien had eased with the departure of the others, and now she knelt beside him. “You all set? Jack’ll be back in a while, and we’ll help you into the water. It’ll do you a world o’ good, believe me.” “You know from experience?” James asked, his eyes flicking down her compact form before he could stop himself. “Aye. And I know that testy feeling, too, when you’re on the mend and want to be up and doing, but still so damn weak you tire at the least thing.” James flushed in consternation that she had seen through his attempts to hide ‘that testy feeling’ behind good manners and reticence. She grinned at his discomfiture, and he gave a rueful smile. “My apologies, ma’am.” “Accepted. But there’s no need.” She laid a light hand against his shoulder, a gentler echo of Jack’s reassurance; then rose gracefully and busied herself with her laundry. He found himself quite content merely to lie upon his opulent sickbed and watch her. * After a while, Jack came back with a good report of the hunting party. “There’s plenty of game, and some crack shots among the lads. We’ll feast by the shore tonight! I’ve left them to it, and told ‘em all to stay away from here ‘til sunset.” He grinned down at James. “Time to take a swim, mate.” * The unavoidable intimacies of the sickroom were one thing. The casual decadence of this equivalent of a Roman bath was something else entirely. Particularly considering the presence of the lady. As a result, there was some initial awkwardness, on his own account, and a little on Anamaria’s. Jack, of course, shucked his clothing with an air of complete unconcern, quite at ease with his body’s appearance (as well he might be). Yet there was sufficient laughter and care between them all to dispel James’s ambivalence. And then, when they’d helped him into the water…well, there was no denying that Jack and Anamaria had spoken the truth about that, too: the heat and bubbling currents, and the ease of movement that the water imparted, were a complete delight. “Told you so,” Jack smirked. “You did indeed,” James replied. “You should trust me by now.” “Pirate?” “Aye, of course. But there’s pirates an’ pirates.” Jack was waiting for his concession. And, after considering the events of these last weeks, James could not find it in him to disappoint. It was a memorable hour and did, indeed, do him a great deal of good, both in body and soul. * Afterward, they sunned themselves a while. Then he was made to move into the shade, while Anamaria resumed her washing, and Jack dressed and loped off to check on his crew and his ship. James slept, deeply. * He dreams of the sea, and its creatures, lithe and strong, and perfectly beautiful. Silver scales, silver tide, silver-foam waves breaking on a beach of moonlit white. He remembers now what he felt as a boy, the simple, heart-breaking essence of it, stirring his blood, filling his mind with thanks, and with joy. And peace. * Someone was humming, low and melodiously. His eyes blinked open and slowly focused on the waking world. Anamaria adorned the water’s edge, sitting with her legs curled beneath her. She had apparently just bathed again, and was now combing out her hair. A line of half-forgotten poetry came to him. He murmured, “Teach me to hear mermaids singing.” “John Donne.” James turned his head to find Jack stretched out beside him, peering at him from over the top of the book he’d been reading. When James said nothing, Jack went on. “First verse of that’s apt enough, but the gist of the rest… no.” He looked over at Ana, and a little smile touched his lips. James looked again, too, and nodded. “She is a woman true and fair.” “That she is. Pilgrimage was a bit hard on you, though.” “Yes,” said James. “But ultimately sweet.”
~ SONG ~ GO
and catch a falling star, If
thou be'st born to strange sights, If
thou find'st one, let me know, ~ John Donne
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