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The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

"They never stopped having a father, love," Jack answered, kissing Jenny on the back of her neck. "But now they have him home again.."

Weeks passed, and Jack found himself a bit of a minor celebrity. Presumed dead, friends and family and even townsfolk he didn't know turned out to wish him well. Father Shovel even said a mass in his honor, thanking God for his deliverance. Slowly, slowl, he began to reacclimate to life ashore. He kept up his fencing practice, but grew accustomed to not carrying steel on his hip and a pistol in his belt.

The odd sway in his gait never went away, though. It was as if once found, his sea legs refused to go away.

John, as he grew accustomed to once more, gratefully accepted his father-in-law's offer to help at the Anchor. Although a pretty penny, his share of the loot was hardly bottomless, particularly since it represented seed money to start his own apothecary. Still, he knew he was cutting in to Michael's profits, and knew it wasn't right.

And the surf was the distant voice of a mistress, calling him back. Calling him to set sail once more. And, after Avalon, he knew there was medicine that could heal Anne completely. But he put off the day, clinging to his family like a lifeline.



"Prospects, love?" John asked, echoing Jenny's question. He sighed, then stripped off his shirt. "None, really. We've got maybe half whai we'd need to open my own store, and the other half won't come from tending bar at the Anchor. Or from mining, or from enlisting."

Wrapping his arms around Jenny, he pulled her close. "I... if we're to have anything, love... I have to write him."
 
Jenny felt her heart break. She didn't bother hiding her crestfallen look as she leaned against John's chest and put her head against his shoulder. Slowly she closed her eyes, praying silently.

"Alright," Mrs. Sparrow finally said quietly. "Alright. But he'd better give you yer own bloody ship this time for what you've gone through for the Company," she added sharply. "I'll not have my husband overlooked like that. I'll march right up to London myself if I have to. I will!" She poked him in the chest with her index finger.

Quietly Jenny grieved. John was going back to the sea, and perhaps he had resisted once but though she had faith in her husband she still feared he couldn't a second time. Please no, she prayed. Please, not again. Lord, please don't take my husband from me like this again.
 
John chuckled at Jenny's bravado, but he didn't miss how unhappy she was at his announcement. "I'd love to see you do that myself, love," he said, looking down at her. "In fact, I should insist that you do that. And then I'll write a lengthy letter encouraging the Company to hire naught but gorgeous Irish redheads to handle their negotiations. If the new recruits have but a quarter of your charms and a half your temper, the Company will own all of England within a year." His grin grew larger. "Within five, they'll have to rename it the Irish East India Company."

Nudging her chin up, he bent down and kissed her. Gently at first, just a gentle pressure of lips, but he deepened it gradually. His tongue probed at her lips, encouraging them to part, and he explored the familiar wet furnace of her mouth. "And don't look at me like that," he murmured, breaking away for air. "I've no need for a mistress, not even the sea itself. Not with you waiting here for me."

He kissed her again, then, deep and fierce and hard. His hands roamed her back, palms flattening against the contours of her body through her shift. He found the flaring curve of her hips, slid down and around, and hooked his fingers under her rump as he pressed her body tight against his. "You are my heart's desire, Jenny Sparrow," he breathed, lips slowly drifting towards the lobe of her ear. "My rare and beautiful pearl. Never forget that."
 
"Five years," Jenny scoffed. "No faith in my people, John. None at all." Still, though she smiled it was a sad one. She felt as though she had just gotten her husband back--even if he did still have odd bits tied up in his hair--and now she was losing him again.

Without warning John had captured her lips and gradually deepened their loving kiss. She opened her mouth to answer him when he said he had no need for a mistress, but he had already caught her up in another kiss. Jenny pressed herself against her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer as he slid his fingers around her rear. She shivered as she felt his warm breath against her skin and told her that she was his heart's desire.

"I try to remember, John," she replied quietly, planting slow kisses wherever she could along his neck. "But I just got my husband back...now you're leaving again. You're the love of my life, Johnathan Sparrow; you can't expect me to let you go easily." Her arms slid from his neck to his waist as she pulled his body more tightly against hers if that were possible. She took a deep breath and buried her face in his shoulder, unable to shake the foreboding feeling that had descended upon her.
 
My Dear Mr. Beckett,

Haffing been safely returned to the green and pleasant land of my birth, and hafing been reunited with my lofing family, I feel that it is now my duty to make an accounting of the events that led to the sinking of the Ablemarle and my own return.

Some three days before we anticipated sighting the Straits of Gibraltar, we perceived a sail on the eastern horizon. Within an hour, the ship had drawn close enough for us to behold that it was a Spanish Man-o-War and, not wishing to sepak with the Spanyards, we applied extra canvas. Alas, the Spanyard was faster than we, and gained on us in a stern chase. When within three miles to stern, it struck the colors of a Pirate and commenced to fire upon us until we were crippled. We were then boarded.

I and several other lads from the ship were taken prisoner by the Pirates, and held for possibility of ransom by them as they believed us to be important persons within the Company. When no ransom was forthcoming the pirates, perhaps moved by the tale of my family which awaited my return, freed us. I straitway made my way home, and have subsequently penned this letter to you.

I also write to ask if there is not another ship that would require the services of an able seaman, an junior supercargo, or a navigator. I hafe learned all these trades in my previous voyage, and would place them at your disposal once more.

Yours sincerely,
Johnathan Sparrow



"There," John murmured, sealing the envelope with candle wax. "And now, let us see what we may see."
 
Jenny stood with two babies hanging over one shoulder, Anne hanging over the other, all passed out. It was nearly dawn and the Sparrow family was once again on the quay, bidding Jack goodbye. She leaned against her husband, unable to hug him with her arms full of precariously balanced children. She didn't want to be alone again. She didn't want to fear getting another knock at the door and being told he had been lost at sea or captured or worse. But this was how things had to be; they had to make a living somehow.

"I'll be counting the days, John," she murmured quietly, her breath warm against his throat on the chilly September morning. Waves lapped against the side of the boat in the quiet predawn. "Just stay safe this time, alright? No more family... They tend to be a bit piratey, yeah?" Jenny pushed herself up onto her toes to kiss him lovingly, gently. "I love you so much, John. Never forget that."
 
John clung to his wife, memorizing the way her body felt against his and savoring the heat of her breath on his skin. "I started counting the days a week ago," he answered. "And this is a simple run to Boston and then to Charles Town in the colonies. We're carrying tea there, and trading for molasses and rum and tobacco." A grin. "Nothing to attract pirates, this time."

"Just stay safe this time, alright? No more family... They tend to be a bit piratey, yeah?"

He held her close, kissing each of the twins on their foreheads. "You and our children are the only family I want anything to do with, love. My reunion was... ah... interesting. But I've had a bellyfull of them."

Jenny pushed herself up onto her toes to kiss him lovingly, gently. "I love you so much, John. Never forget that."

He kissed her back, wishing he had time to make a proper job of it. sailors whistled and catcalled from the deck of the ship, but he ignored them all. "And I love you, Jenny Sparrow. Heart and soul, forever." He kissed her again, then knelt to pull Jack and Annie into a hug. "And you two behave yourselves," he said. "You're the man of the house, Jack. And you're strong enough to help your mother, aren't you Anne?"

His little girl smiled shyly, shuffling her crutches. She was doing better now than she had in years, but the dried remains of the apple hadn't been enough to cure her. "Yes, daddy."

A last hug and kiss for each of his children, and a last lingering kiss for his wife. He didn't say anything else - there were no words that could say everything he wanted to say. Instead, he shouldered his seaman's bag and swayed up the gangplank.

"Welcome aboard the Lord Carnevon, Mister Sparrow," said a gruff, bearded Scotsman. "I'm Roarke, first mate. And you're our new Supercargo and navigator, eh?"

"That I am, Mr. Roarke," he answered, shaking the man's hand. "It's a pleasure to be aboard."

"An' how d'ye like to be called, Mr. Sparrow?"

"Jack. Call me Jack."
 
Thursday
Seventeenth of November
Year of Our Lord Christ Seventeen Hundred and Seven

Dear John,

The children went back to sleep after you left, but I cannot. Already I've returned to the sleepless nights I suffer when you're not here with us. As we were leaving I asked some sailors how long it took to get to Boston. They told me it took a month and some, so for that I am grateful since I know you'll be gone maybe three months at most. It saddens me that you'll miss another Christmas, though at least you'll be home in time for our anniversary and Jack's birthday. He's very excited about turning ten. I'm afraid I must close here for now, though. The sun rises and I must go to work.

Later

I told the children I was writing to you and they wanted to send you things to remember them by. I fear Scraps and Fwee are old enough to be unfit for travel, so they've drawn you pictures instead which I've enclosed. Perhaps a ship can catch up with you quickly, since you only just left this morning. Already I just miss you so much. I love you, John, with all the fire in my soul.

Forever yours,
Jenny
~*~

Enclosed in the letter Jack received were two drawings on thick pieces of parchment. One was of a frog and on the back was an explanation from Jack that he had caught a frog that afternoon and this was what it had looked like. He added that he loved his Daddy and missed him very much, and wished he didn't have to go away anymore. The second picture was a little more questionable as to what it was, though they were clearly people. On the back, between enormous childish letters spelling out "I LUV DADY" Jenny had written a brief explanation that Anne had told her that it was her and her siblings so he wouldn't have to miss them so much.

Boston harbor was a noisy place, with people speaking a familiar language with strange accent so strong it was like trying to understand a gaggle of Cornishmen. Some of the dock workers and American sailors seemed to be less friendly toward Jack once he opened his mouth and an English accent came spilling out. Still, his money was as good here as anywhere and no one had any problems bartering or selling.
 
Friday
Twenty-third of December
Year of our Lord Seventeen Hundred and Seven

My darling Jenny,

I just received your letter today, which I see that you sent immediately upon my sailing. I miss you as well, my love, and I have great hopes that I will indeed be home in time for our anniversery. It will be our eighth, and I still cannot believe that it has been so long since our wedding - except that I am far more in love with you now than I was on that most blessed and happy day.

Please assure Jack and Anne that I have received their pictures as well (along with your helpful explanatory notes), and that they will have a place of honor on the wall of my cabin by my bed. I fear that I still have not seen a sea turtle for Jack, and I am beginning to believe that they are stories made up by bored sailors to astound and amaze new sailors and land dwellers.

We are currently docked in Boston harbor, and will remain here through the New Year. At that time, if the weather clears, we will sail for Charles Town. The city is lovely and charming, although it suffers greatly for want of you. I have enclosed a sketch I made from the foredeck of Lord Carnevon, in hopes of giving you an impression of the city that my poor words will never be able to provide.

image005.jpg


Sadly, for I know Jack will ask, I have not met one of the red indians that are native to this land. Boston is a civilized town, comparable in quality to Dover, and the red men seem to prefer to keep to their own here. Perhaps when we visit Charles Town.

I count the hours until my return to you, my love, for hours pass like days when we are parted. Perhaps, when I return, we can give your parents the evening to themselves and I can assist you in closing down the Black Anchor? I recall that, when I discussed the possibility with you last, you seemed agreeable.

But I must close this letter, I fear. I am attending evening Mass, after all. The Captain feels it is important that the officers set a good example for the men. My love to our children, and most especially to you, my darling wife.

Jack Sparrow


Jack dripped wax on the envelope, sealing it. Only then did he find himself wondering: "Did I sign that... Jack? Or John?" But he wasn't going to open the envelope again - they cost money and, although he was not poor he was trying to economize.

Pulling on his heavy seaman's coat against the wet Boston chill, he perched his hat on his head and left the in. Outside the air was bitter, with a frigid wind blowing in off the harbor to send sprays of snow from roofs. He wrapped his scarf around himself, shivering a little. And he'd thought winters in Dover were cold.

"Good people all, this Christmas time," a band of carolers sang in the distance, "consider well and bear in mind..."

He paused to listen. The singers weren't great, but there was a charm in their enthusiasm.

"What our good God for us has done
"In sending his beloved son
"With Mary holy we should pray,
"To God with love this Christmas Day
"In Bethlehem upon that morn,
"There was a blessed Messiah born.:

Jack swayed a little, smiling.

"The king and his men
"Betrayed the sea queen's trust,
"Imprisoned her in the north.
"Her power is lost, her scepter dross;
"Her throne naught but stones."

Ice flooded Jack's veins at the second verse. It was hardly the Carúl Loch Garman he'd learned from Jenny. No, it was...

"Yo ho, all hands,
"hoist the colors high.
"Heave ho, Jack you are called;
"Do not let her die."

The same tune. The words were different, but it was the same song.

"North you will aim where the sky is aflame;
"North to Hyper Boree.
"Free the queen from her cage
"and the oceans assuage,
"Lest we face the Earth-shaker's rage."

Blindly, Jack turned and staggered down the slick cobbled streets. He didn't know if he was heading for the church or not. All he knew was that he had to get away. Away from that terrible song, and the implications it carried. He'd done enough.

But the chorus followed, mocking him.

"Yo ho haul together,
"hoist the colors high.
"Heave ho, thieves and beggars;
"never shall we die.

"Yo ho haul together,
"hoist the colors high.
"Heave ho, thieves and beggars;
"never shall we die."
 
Sunday
Twenty-third of January
Year of Our Lord Christ Seventeen Hundred and Eight

My dearest love,

I suppose it's a bit late but happy New Year darling. Your letter arrived on Wednesday but we've taken to writing letters each Sunday after church again, and so enclosed are our letters and pictures from the children. There's nearly two month's worth so hopefully you'll be provided a good amount of reading for at least an hour or two. Anne practices her letters, but she's only four after all; she enjoys drawing pictures for you more. The children were, by the way, very excited to hear that you would display their pictures for anyone to see. Jack's letters have much improved and on Saturdays after work I sit with him to read from some of the books you brought home from your last excursion and practice writing with summarizing the stories so he can't just copy the letters from the page. I've also begun teaching him sums and he's a quick study at it, but on Sundays for lack of any sort of class at church we take a few hours to study lessons of the Bible.

He's been a quick study at music, too. Captain Teague surprised us Christmas Eve, bursting in larger than life like Saint Nicholas with a sack full of toys for the children. Plundered, no doubt, or bought with stolen money. Still, I couldn't deny the children the most bountiful Christmas they'd ever had. Your father gave Jack a guitar, since he'd proved adept at the little lessons he'd given last time he was here, and all Christmas Day after church was the sound of music as he taught our boy how to play. Jack has even figured out a few of the common songs by himself by now and wants to play for you when you return.

I was glad to read that you went to Christmas Mass, by the way. I know that you aren't much of a believer, John, so to know that you carry on the traditions of faith even when you are abroad gladdens my heart. It is simply one less worry on my shoulders.

Boston seems a lovely city, though it does disappoint Jack that you've not seen a red Indian. He made me promise to ask you to send an eagle feather one of them might keep in his hair once you've reached Charles Town, though I've already told him that may not be possible. Please do be careful, should you meet one. I've heard they can be quite vicious and some of them will even take the scalps of white men for trade or trophies. The sailors who say they've seen it also say only a few survive, and I couldn't stand to lose you John. I just couldn't.

I think your idea about giving my parents the evening to themselves is an exceedingly kind one, and of course I'm more than happy to work with you. You are, after all, my partner in all things and I'm still agreeable to this idea. [Jenny had blushed furiously as she wrote this line, just as she had blushed when she'd read his suggestion.] I look forward to your return so that we might spend this time together.

I'm afraid I must close here. The children are hungry and the twins are particularly cranky as I've been weening them lately and they're also teething. I pray this letter finds you safe and happy, though I long for you to be in my arms again.

Yours body and soul,

Jenny

~*~

Again enclosed were letters from both Jenny and Jack, as well as a few pictures from Jack and even more from Anne. Each picture by Anne had a brief explanation on the back wherever her childish handwriting had left room. She had practiced her letters on the backs of the pictures to show her father that she could write her name as well as the alphabet (minus a few letters she didn't quite have down yet). More than a few of the pictures proclaimed her love for her Daddy. There were even a few pieces of parchment with handprints made of paint Jenny had managed to make from things that grew around their home. Each handprint was labeled either Brigid or Lucy.
 
Wednesday
Twenty-second of February
The year of our Lord Seventeen Hundred and Eight

My darling wife,

Your letter could not have arrived in a more timely manner. We have been in Charles Town for two and a half weeks, and were scheduled to sail for home in another week. Had it been much delayed, I fear that I should have received the letters at our home in Dover. And, although I look forward to holding you in my arms once more, I should have been denied the pleasure of these messages.

You are right that Jack's letters have improved greatly, and even Anne's show great skill for her young age. I very much appreciated her notes, explaining what it was she had drawn for me. I treasure her art as much as I treasure Jack's little letters and your own messages, and the hand prints from Brigid and Lucy.

I am still, even after a year sailing with my father's family, uncertain how I feel about Captain Teague. I suppose I should be grateful that he is building a relationship with our children and allowing them to know both of their grandfathers. I cannot help but think, though Forgive me. The subject of the Captain is still a painful one. Still, I am glad to hear that the children were happy at his arrival, and to hear that Jack has begun to learn the guitar. I still play the flute, so perhaps we will arrange to serenade you one evening after I return?

Charles Town is a much smaller community than Boston. No, wait, that is not precisely true. Boston is an actual city, here in the colonies. Charles Town is a market and harbor town. Merchants and government officials do live here, but the majority of the populace lives on farms surrounding the town itself. I fear that I still have not seen a red man, so I cannot send our son an eagle's feather or verify their reputed savagery. But I have seen Englishmen owning slaves, Jenny, and I can vouch for the savagery of our own kind. The sight is abhorrent, my love. One man may rule another, as our king and our parliament rule over us, but it for one man to own another is a ghastly and abominable practice.

I am gladdened, however, to hear that you are agreeable to closing down the Anchor one evening for your parents. We shall have to pay special attention to the bar, I believe - it will need to be cleaned thoroughly before we are finished.

Alas, I must end here. These letters are never long enough to say what is in my heart. I shall post this in the morning, and it may be that you will be reading this even as I arrive home myself. My love to Jack and Annie, and to Brigid and Lucy. And most of all, my love to you my darling wife.

Forever,

Jack Sparrow


Jack sighed as he folded the letter and inserted it into the envelope. Now for the other letter, the one he didn't want to write...



Wednesday
Twenty-second of February
The year of our Lord Seventeen Hundred and Eight

Captain Edward Teague,

I doubtt that I know which of us is most surprised at this letter - myself for writing it, or you upon receipt. I believe we parted on better terms than we met, but... well, I shall not rake up what has passed. Instead I find that I must seek your advice, as I believe you to be more experienced in these matters than I.

As you no doubt learned from Jenny, if you had not already learned of it from other sources, I have taken ship once more. Recently, I have begun to experience... visions, perhaps? Or perhaps they are mere hallucinations. Whichever they are, they take the form of a sea shanty unlike any I have heard sung.

The lyrics speak of a sea queen, betrayed by a king and imprisoned somewhere in the north - a place named Hi Pere Bory, where the sky burns. The song then calls on me to act, out of fear of some calamity. The chorus, and I assure you that it is burned in my memory, runs as follows:

Yo, ho, haul together,
Hoist the colors high.
Heave, ho, thieves and beggars,
Never shall we die.

I experienced a similar... hallucination, upon my first voyage. I dismissed it as a hallucination then, and I would do so now if it were not for the fact that they will not leave me alone. Are you familiar with this phenomena? If so, are you able to enlighten me as to what is happening?

We shall remain in Charles Town for another six days, if it should be that you receive this message in time. We then sail for Barbados, and then for England.

Jack Sparrow
 
Sunday
Twenty-fifth of March
Year of Our Lord Christ Seventeen Hundred and Eight

My darling John,

I'm so glad to hear that our letters and the children's pictures found you well and in time. Hopefully by the time you read this you'll be home or at least on your way home. Who knows? Perhaps by the time this finds you we'll have even cleaned the bar thoroughly for this night off we've been planning. Forgive me my enthusiasm, John; I'm just so excited to have you return home without incident. After all, it's less than a month to our anniversary now. Can you believe it's been nine years already?

I sensed some hesitation in your letter when it comes to Captain Teague. If you do not like his seeing the children we can talk about it when you get home. For now, however, they are exceedingly fond of him as he is of them. Also, a bit more selfishly I'm ashamed to say, it's nice to have a piece of you here while you're away. There are mannerisms you both share as well as features in your face. But again, that is a discussion for when you arrive home. Either way I look forward to the day you and Jack play together for me.

I told Jack about the redmen and he was disappointed to learn you had not seen any, neither have you seen any sea turtles. I, too, begin to think that perhaps they're just some made up animal, like unicorns or mermaids. Sea turtles, that is. I do believe in the existence of redmen, and sailors are known to spin tall tales as to what lies in the deep. I skipped over the part about Englishmen owning slaves, however. What a horrid place the Colonies must be for them to barter and trade men like that! I understand our own England isn't blameless in such a matter, but for Heaven's sake it's the eighteenth century! Surely the men there understand how barbaric that is? Although, I do know of a few even in Dover who support such a thing even if they can't afford to practice it themselves. And I suppose a colony founded by criminals and heretics wouldn't fare much better than what people held in civilized society must believe.

I have only one other question, my love, and that is regarding how you've been signing your letters. Do you no longer wish to be known by John? For you've signed your last two letters as Jack Sparrow. Only, I think it would be dreadfully confusing for our own son as it was slightly confusing to me. This is another thing, I suppose, we must discuss when you come home. Until then I count the hours, for surely there aren't many left before you've returned to me. I love you so dearly, John.

Always,
Jenny

~*~

No answer came from Captain Teague. Instead it was a week before Jack heard from his father again. The man seemed to appear mysteriously in a chair beside him in one of the dockside taverns as he took his meal. Teague leaned forward, arms on the table, as Jack took another bite of his meal.

"You mustn't go to Hyperborea, Jack," he insisted in his quiet, raspy voice. "The Brotherhood would skin you alive for freeing her. Go home to your family, boy, and leave it alone."
 
Jack took a bite of his steak and kidney pie, chewing thoughtfully and savoring the flavor. Then he washed it down with a mouthfull of rum. Finally, he looked up. "Ah, Captain Teague. I see you received my letter."

"I'm serious, Jack," Teague said, sitting down. "Y' want no part o' this. They'll kill ye, lad, and I won't be able to help you."

Jack considered that. "Who, exactly, will kill me?"

"The Brotherhood," Teague hissed, looking around wildly. "The Nine Lords of the Bretheren Court."

"Never heard of them, old man," Jack laughed, taking another bite.

Teague slapped him across the table. "This is no laughing matter, Jack. I'm one of them. But a majority vote will condemn ye, and I canna stop it. If ye go to Hyberborea, ye'll die."

Jack reached across the table and slapped his father. The older man rocked back, reaching for his blade as he did. Jack slapped him again, then leveled a pistol at him under the table. "I'll take slapping from a woman," he observed. "I'm gentleman enough to not hit a lady, less'n she's going to kill me. You, father, are no lady."

Teague's hand gripped his blade for a moment, then he started laughing. "Ah, lad... the sea's in yer blood."

"Maybe. But, I'm tired of all of this business of half answers and vague warnings and having to guess and fake my way through things." He leaned back in his chair, covering his father with the pistol. "Who is this Queen? And these Lords of the Bretheren Court. And why will they kill me if I go to Hyperborea?"
 
Teague sighed. Obviously Jack wouldn't take 'because I'm your father and I said so' as an answer. The old pirate looked up and motioned to the waitress--a pretty native girl--for another rum. He sat back in his chair and motioned lazily with one hand.

"Put it away, boy," he said, his voice still low but little concern in it. "You don't need it. I'll tell you what you need to know." Teague rubbed his eyes, looking tired, before looking up at Jack again. "The Queen is the queen of the sea, the goddess Calypso. Years ago the first Brethren Court--we're the third Court right now, y'see--bound her in human form that they might rule the seas instead of her. Fools, the lot of them, listenin' t' the likes of Davy Jones. Now, I dunno how to unbind her but bringing her back to the world, out of Hyperborea, would just bring her that much closer to it and then we'd all pay. Y'see, Calypso weren't exactly known fer her docile temper and she'd be sure to want revenge."

Teague shook his head. "Dunno why I'm botherin'. Iffin she wants ye there, she'll getcha there one way or another. Just because she's bound in mortal form don't mean she ain't got power." He thanked the waitress when she came by with his rum and took a long, hearty drink. "Jack...don't go. If ya value yer life, if ya value yer family, don't go to Hyperborea." Once again his face took on the qualities of that of a bloodhound as it sagged and frowned in consternation.
 
"Put it away, boy," he said, his voice still low but little concern in it. "You don't need it. I'll tell you what you need to know."

Jack hesitated, then lowered the hammer and tucked the pistol back into his belt. Then he listened to a load of midsummer madness that he came close to dismissing out of hand. But he had heard the song, and he had seen enough strange things over the past few years to be comfortable looking at as the ravings of a madman. Much as he might like to.

"So... Davy Jones - the guy with the proverbial locker - persuaded the nine men who rule all of the pirates on Earth to kidnap the sea queen and lock her up in Hyperborea?" He might not be dismissing it out of hand, but his tone of voice left no doubt that it sounded mad to him. "For... what? Why? I've spent a year as a pirate, long enough to know that you can't even get two pirate captains to cooperate about anything, unless there's a profit. Let alone nine pirate kings. So... what's the profit? What does this Davy Jones, and these pirate kings, get for the risk?"

His expression didn't change, but his hand dropped to his pistol once more. "And you're threatening my family, father? Well, I've a message for your 'Brethren Court', father. I've no idea where this Hyperborea is. I've no interest in your Queen or your Kings or anything else. But, if you or any of your Court so much as look at my Jenny and my family, I'll find Hyperborea. I'll bring this Calypso out of her prison, and I'll find how to unbind her."

Jack raised his fork and knife, then paused and looked at his father. "Nine men on a dead man's chest. Yo. Ho. Ho. And a bottle of rum."
 
"No no, there's only one Pirate King and...Never mind." He sighed and shook his head. "And that locker ain't proverbial, lad, it's real and it ain't a place you want to go visitin' any time soon." But Teague had questions to answer. He had a feeling his son would only be satisfied once he'd heard everything he thought was relevant to this situation.

"Jones's reasons are his own for wanting Calypso bound, but the Pirate Lords went along with it because in return they would rule the seas instead of her. No more spiteful maelstroms or sacrifices of perfectly good loot to a heathen god." But as Jack threatened to release Calypso Teague looked on his son with tired eyes. "No, Jackie, I'm not threatening your family," he sighed, "I'm warning you. Of course I'd vote against anything as'd bring ye and yer family harm, but I'd be the only one. I'm trying ta protect 'em. You dunno what the Court's capable of."

But Jack then raised his fork and knife and paused to look at Teague. The weathered captain shook his head and sighed. "If it were that easy we'd have found the Dead Man's Chest by now, Jackie. Anyhow, I've warned ya and I've told ye what'll happen when I can't stop the consequences of your actions. Do with it what you will."
 
"The Dead Man's Chest is a..?" With an effort, Jack shook the question off. "No. You know what? I don't want to know." He put his utensils down. "Look, here's the thing... I believe you wouldn't threaten Jenny or your grandchildren. Really, I do."

He examined his father a minute longer. "So, here's the thing: I just wanted to know what the hell was going on. That's all. I've no interest in pirate courts or 'Davy Jones' or sea goddesses or any of the rest of it. What I plan to do is sail for London and then go home to my family. And that's all. So you can tell your fellow kings that."

He hesitated, then sighed. "But... thank you. For coming. And.. forvstopping in and seeing my family over Christmas." He smiled, just a little. "Join me in a round, before you leave?"
 
"Lords, Jackie. Pirate lords," Teague corrected with a sigh. "And that's a good plan, goin' home t' yer family. An' stay there, if the seas keep callin' out to ya like that. It'll bring naught but trouble, promise ye."

But then his son thanked him. Teague looked up as Jack thanked him for coming and for seeing his family. The tiniest of smiles cracked the worn leather of his face and he inclined his head a little.

"Couldn't say 'no' to mah boy, could I?" he replied, sitting back in his seat. "An' it's not a trouble, lad. I'd heard ye was out ter sea again, figured the kids could use a little Christmas cheer. Jenny seemed grateful fer the help. She's a saint, that woman; four kids all on 'er own an' a job ta boot. Dunchee get on her bad side Jack Sparrow, er ye'll have a tiger ta deal with." He laughed his wheezy laugh before downing the rest of his first drink then ordering one more.
 
Jack hesitated, then sighed. "But... thank you. For coming. And.. for stopping in and seeing my family over Christmas." He smiled, just a little. "Join me in a round, before you leave?"

"Couldn't say 'no' to mah boy, could I?" he replied, sitting back in his seat.

"You certainly could..." Jack heard himself say, before biting the words off. "No, no... I'm sorry."

"An' it's not a trouble, lad. I'd heard ye was out ter sea again, figured the kids could use a little Christmas cheer. Jenny seemed grateful fer the help. She's a saint, that woman; four kids all on 'er own an' a job ta boot."

"She is," the younger man agreed. "A far, far better woman than I deserve, I think."

"Dunchee get on her bad side Jack Sparrow, er ye'll have a tiger ta deal with." He laughed his wheezy laugh before downing the rest of his first drink then ordering one more.

"A tiger?" Jack laughed at that, leering a little. "Captain, that's what I like best about her..." Then he held up his hands. "No, no, really... I know what you mean. I actually did get on her bad side, a few years back. Stole a book from a witch and... well..." A sheepish expression. "Let's just say that she did not approve, and that she was - unsurprisingly - correct."

He downed the rest of his rum, and ordered a second glass himself. "I've..." he started, hesitated, and started again. "Without any of the rancor from our first meeting, Captain. What... what happened?" Suddenly, he couldn't look at Captain Teague. "Why didn't you come back? Was it this... this Calypso? Did she call you, the way she calls me?"
 
"She is," the younger man agreed. "A far, far better woman than I deserve, I think."

"Eh! We dun deserve good women, none o' us," Teague asserted with a wave of his hand. "But it's th' good Lord--whichever one--as created a blind spot in women, figured we could use a little mercy. Dunchee get on her bad side, Jack Sparrow, er ye'll have a tiger ta deal with." He laughed his wheezy laugh before downing the rest of his first drink then ordering more. The captain raised his eyebrows with a look of disbelief when Jack proclaimed her tigress-like qualities to be what he liked best. He quickly explained and Teague wheezed out another laugh. "Stole a book from a witch, eh? What the hell for? Y'know Jackie, yer more like yer ol' dad than ya realize."

But there was something else Jack wanted to talk about. He hesitated, suddenly unable to look at his father as he asked his question. Teague sighed and leaned on the table as he tried to find a place to begin. "Partly," he admitted. "The sea's a jealous mistress, Jackie. Once she gets in yer blood she don't let go n'matter how hard ya try. N'matter...n'matter whatcha got waitin' fer ya on land. Got a habit o' makin' poor decisions, we do. But it were more than that. There was some trouble with th' Brethren," Teague explained with a sigh. He leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples. "I had ta sail to Singapore an' back three times. That rat Sao Feng ain't easy ta work with when yer tryin' ta work out a deal. So that mess finally got settled an'...an' I actually did come back, Jack." Teague looked up at him with doleful eyes.

"Anne...y' told me she...I didn't know what she was doin'," he admitted. "So when I came back, I saw 'er walkin' arm-in-arm with some rich dandy, lookin' happy as ya please. I figured, y'know, she'd given me up fer dead and was happy now with another man. Broke my heart, but I'd be damned if I was gonna get in th' way of her happiness. I wasn't gonna show up out the blue after five years an' wreck the life she'd built for herself, especially if some rich man was keepin' 'er happy and safe. I thought...an' it's somethin' I ain't proud of now, son, but I thought she was better off without me."
 
"A tiger?" Jack laughed at that, leering a little. "Captain, that's what I like best about her..." Then he held up his hands. "No, no, really... I know what you mean. I actually did get on her bad side, a few years back. Stole a book from a witch and... well..." A sheepish expression. "Let's just say that she did not approve, and that she was - unsurprisingly - correct."

Teague wheezed out another laugh. "Stole a book from a witch, eh? What the hell for?"

Jack took a pull at his rum. "Well, it was early on. After Anne... well... you know... I'd gone to London, to consult with some doctors. They couldn't help, so I started checking with local herbalists. And one of them directed me to the, ah... witch." He still shuddered, just a bit, at the memory. "She had this book, see. The source of her wisdom. And she wanted me to sign it." He shrugged. "So I stole it instead. And then got chased three miles by a spectre on horseback."

Another shiver.

Teague wheezed laughter again. "Y'know Jackie, yer more like yer ol' dad than ya realize."

"Am I now?" He downed the rest of his rum, and ordered a second glass himself. "I've..." he started, hesitated, and started again. "Without any of the rancor from our first meeting, Captain. What... what happened?" Suddenly, he couldn't look at Captain Teague. "Why didn't you come back? Was it this... this Calypso? Did she call you, the way she calls me?"

The Captain sighed, and took a moment to explain. And as the older man talked, it began to make more and more of a horrible kind of sense. The sea was... marvelous. He wanted to give it up, go back to Jenny and the family. but... But there was a freedom at sea, unlike nothing he'd ever experienced on land. And then, to finally return and see... Well. What would he do, he wondered. After five years, would he believe Jenny thought him dead? If he returned after five years, to see her walking with another man... would he pursue her? Would he be selfish enough to tear down her world?

Grimly, not liking the thoughts he was having, he swallowed a mouthful of rum. No. It wouldn't happen. Not to him. Not to Jenny. He'd see to that. He'd find the cure Anne needed, and come home. Stay with his family, right where they needed him.

A sigh.

"It's... hard," Jack said, slowly, staring into his glass. "Giving up a lifetime of hatred. But..." He made himself look up, made himself look at the man that was his father. Made himself see that man in a new light. "But... I'll try. Because maybe I am more like my old dad than I realize." He smiled, just a little. "And maybe because I'd like to think there's still some hope for me, after admitting that."

He extended his hand. "So... a pleasure to meet you. Dad."
 
Teague sat in silence with his son, both of them quietly sipping at their drinks as Jack thought of something to say. The weathered old captain looked up when his son finally spoke. When Jack proclaimed his intention to try to stop hating him, to start over, Teague's heart rose a little and his leather face crumpled into what was presumably a grin.

"Ta, son," he replied, shaking Jack's hand. He smiled still as he leaned back in his seat, looking out at the sun through the pub window. "I gotta get goin' soon," he sighed. "M' ship's waitin' on orders. We're ta sail 'round the Horn of Africa, back to Madagascar, with the tide. But I were thinkin', Jack...I'm gettin' old. Maybe old enough ta retire soon. If a sea farin' life is what you want, when I'm gone er retired, whichever comes first...ye'll always be welcome as captain of the Troubadour. 'S my ship, by the way." Teague downed the rest of his drink and stood. "Think about it, Jackie." He winked and then was gone.
 
"I..." Jack genuinely didn't know what to say. But, he smiled. "I'll think about it. No promises, though. I've got a wife, after all. And a family I'd like to see, once Anne's taken care of and I've got the funds to start my own shop." The smile got wider. "But thank you. That... means a lot." He rose, half saluting and half waving as Captain Teague left, then plopped down and finished his dinner.

"Pirate kings," he muttered, thinking. "Sea goddesses. Mysterious islands. When I get home, I'm staying ashore."


Three days later, the Lord Carnevon was a day out of Barbados. A favorable wind out of the southwest filled the canvas, allowing them to tuck into the Gulf Stream. From there, the oceanic river would carry them into the North Atlantic current, speeding their return to England. Jack stood at the bow of the ship, leaning on the railing and staring into the water. It wasn't until a large hand slapped him on the back that he realized someone had joined him.

"Fine day, eh Sparrow?" Roarke asked.

"Aye," Jack responded. "That it is."

"Thoughts of home, m'boy?"

Jack nodded. "Looking forward to it, Roarke. That and..." He looked up. "Oh, hell."

Roarke looked as well, then swore as well. The southern sky was, as far as the eye could see, a storm-tossed mass of wind-whipped waters. The Mate lept to the warning bell, clanging it loudly and screaming for all hands to batten the hatches. Jack just stared for a moment, wide-eyed and white knuckled. "You bitch," he whispered. "Calypso, you bitch."
 
The storm was one for the centuries, if any lived to see through it. The sailors took it in shifts to try to keep the Lord Carnevon afloat and for the most part succeeded, but not without its cost. Waves taller than the masts washed over the ship for days on end, washing more poor souls off of the deck than were able to stay on. Even the captain and first mate were washed away. The storm raged on for the better part of a week and at one point the ship was indeed near the coast of John's beloved island, though nearer the west coast of Scotland than anything. Finally, on the sixth day the storm seemed to stop as suddenly as it had started.

The Lord Carnevon sailed for two more days amongst shelves of blinding snow and ice and enormous cliffs. Never was there such complete silence as there was in this land of sun and cold. Days melted together as the sun never went down, but only skirted the horizon before wheeling back up into the sky. Only nine men were left to guide the ship, to try to find a way back home, Jack among them. On the third day--or what would pass for a day--an enormous ship was spotted ahead of them, sailing just out of shot as though guiding them.
 
For days the storm raged, all black sky and howling fury and utter helplessness. By day three, Jack was Captain by simple virtue of being the most senior officer on the ship. By day five, everyone assumed the Lord Carnevon was doomed - even Jack, who drove the terrified sailors to superhuman feats through example, stubbornness, and sheer will. And finally, a week after it had begun, the storm died away.

Now, shivering in the chill February air, Jack stood on the stern and played with a sextant. Joe Green, elected first mate by virtue of having kept a cool head and helped Jack maintain order, approached him. "Any idea where we're at?"

"Uhm... somewhere above 60 degrees north," Jack muttered, eying the sextant. "Cussed hard to get a good read right now, but I'd say we're even above the Arctic circle.

Joe gestured to starboard, where a mountain of ice was drifting by. "What was yer first clue, Cap'n Jack? And are yer sure yer usin' that thing right?"

"I'm using it the way I was taught," Jack groused, holding his hands under his armpits for extra warmth. "Not my fault the sun's barely above the horizon."

"SAIL TO PORT!" bellowed the watch. Jack crossed the ship and leaned forward, trying to pierce the gloom. Slowly, the towering, ragged shape of a black galleon - highlighted with blue-green fluorescence - hove into view.

"Name of the devil!" Joe hissed, crossing himself. "That is an uncanny ship, Captain. Let us..."

Jack held up a hand. "Uncanny or no, it's a ship. And we need charts and supplies, if we're to be out of this. And I'm sure they'll bargain for a share of rum and tobacco." He turned. "One quarter sail!" he shouted. "And strike the colors! We're going to heave alongside yon ship!"

As the crew hastened to adjust the canvas and raise the Union Jack, Jack swaggered across the ship to take the wheel. "Yo ho, yo ho," he declared, lazily. "Never shall we die..."
 
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