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The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Jenny grinned back at him in the dark. She always enjoyed it when he got a little cheeky. "As I recall, I didn't exactly discourage you," she admitted, still smiling.

Shadows flickered and though she wasn't aware, there was one behind Jenny that appeared to lurk near her and didn't quite flicker like the others. Still she was careful as she stepped down the stairs, holding John's hand. This was where they'd been the second time they'd come "looking for the ghost." Nine months later their son had arrived into the world. Once they reached the bottom of the steps she looked around.

"Well, it's much less frightening down here when you haven't fallen and knocked your head on every step on the way down," she mentioned lightly before shivering. "And so much colder than up there." Jenny drew her shawl more tightly around her before stepping closer to her husband.
 
"Colder, hm?" John smiled, pulling his wife into his arms. He kissed her then, slow and lingering, savoring her taste. "Now how could you be cold, my love?" He allowed his right hand to caress her back, sliding down her body to cup her rear and pull her tight against him. "After all," he whispered against her lips, "you have all these clothes on..."

Shifting a little, he pressed her back against the rough-hewn stone wall. His mouth found hers again, his tongue dancing with hers as he leaned into her. Not hard. Just enough for her to feel his weight as his body pressed into hers. "Now," he murmured, desire flickering in his dark eyes as his free hand caressed her throat, "what could I do to warm you up..?"

He kissed her again. As he did, a shiver coursed down his spine. Partly from lust. But partly from the sudden, uncanny feeling that he was being watched.
 
Jenny made a small noise against her husband's lips. As he pulled away she grinned, shivering as his hand slid down her back and pressing her body against his. Goosebumps raised on her arms as he whispered and his lips brushed hers. The light from the candle glinted in his dark eyes as he pressed her against the wall. When he kissed her again one arm wrapped around his neck, the other careful to keep the candle away from hair and clothes.

"Well, let's see," she said slowly, pretending to be thinking. "First let me put this candle down, hm? After all, I should be able to tell whether its you who's warming me up."

Jenny knelt down to set down the candle, throwing her shadow large against the wall. One shadow seemed to slither away from hers as she started to straighten. On her way back up Jenny lingered near John's groin, planting a small kiss with a mischievous grin before straightening all the way up and leaning back against the wall again. Sliding her hands down to John's hips she pulled him against her before wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You know I think we may have to experiment a little," she said casually, "see what sort of things might warm me up the best."
 
John leaned into his wife's embrace, kissing her softly. "Experiment, hey?" he murmured. "I'm in favor of that."

Still smiling, he kissed her thoroughly. As he did his arms slid down her body, cupping her rear and pulling her against him. He shifted one hand lower still, lifting her leg and guiding it around his hip. "I seem to recall," he said, gently grinding his hip against hers, "that this is as far as we got. The first time we came here."

The hand on her thigh slipped under her skirts, sliding over the smooth curves of her leg. "Remember?" he asked, nipping at her ear. "Just two kids, barely able to keep their hands off each other?" His teeth grazed the skin of her throat. "I'm glad we waited, but I wanted you so badly that night." He nibbled at her collarbone, undoing a few buttons on her blouse to allow himself access. "And every other night since then."
 
Jenny kissed her husband back, groaning gently against his lips and pulling him more firmly against herself. She couldn't help but grin against his lips when she felt his hands on her rear--it seemed to be a favorite of his, though her breasts were seldom neglected--and her legs went a little shaky. Ten years to the day since they'd first come here looking for a ghost and he still made her go weak in the knees when he kissed her like that. She began to gently grind back against him, already needy just from the contact and the danger.

"I remember all too well," she affirmed, her breath warm against his cheek as he nipped at her ear. "I'm glad we waited too John...but strike me dead if you wasn't the only one who could ever lead me into sin even then." Jenny grinned, sliding her hands to his neck then down to his own buttons. "I've wanted you since the day we met," she murmured, undoing the buttons and kissing his throat. "And I'll want you til the day I die."
 
John undid a few more buttons, exposing Jenny's breasts. His thumbs grazed over the erect nubs of her nipples, and he moaned in pleasure. "I think," he said, throwing his head back to give her more access to his throat, "that you must be getting cold..." He cupped her breasts, as if expertly measuring their soft weight, and circled her nipples with his thumbs. "Is this enough to keep them warm?"

He kissed her again, gently squeezing her breasts as he did. "If not, my mouth is warm..."

Something seemed to snigger in the darkness. Resolutely, he ignored it.
 
Jenny breathed in sharply as her husband's thumbs grazed over her sensitive nipples. She grinned as he cupped her breasts and leaned forward to nibble a line down his throat. Goosebumps raised on her arms.

"Well, I must be, if you think so," she teased with a mischievous grin. Jenny bit her lip as he offered to keep her warm in other ways. "You know, I think you might have to warm them with your mouth. I must just be too cold." Her tongue darted out over his collar bone as one hand slid downward. "Maybe we can keep each other warm."
 
John made a low, purring sound as he pressed himself against her palm. "Perhaps we should," he agreed. "It would be a terrible shame if we became ill..."

At that he abaandoned her breasts to fill his hands with her rear once more. With a grunt he braced himself and lifted, wrapping her legs around his hips. He kissed his way down her throat and over the curve if her breast. "Almost too late," he grinned, circling brown skin of her aureola. "Look how hard they've gotten from the cold."

His lips wrapped around one nipple, and he presed her body against the wall as he tugged gently at the sensitive flesh. Shifting his weight a little, he cupped on breast and squeezed as he sucked hungrily. "Any better?"
 
"Oh, such a shame," Jenny agreed in mock seriousness. She squeezed gently, feeling John's hard cock through his trousers and beginning to ache with need.

Her breasts were, indeed, quite cold as her wet nipples were exposed to the cool air of the dark castle. Jenny gasped in quiet surprise as John lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his hips. She grinned at him in the dark, pulling her skirts free from between their bodies and allowing them to slide up her thighs. A low chuckle escaped from her throat as he declared her nipples were hard "from the cold." She braced herself on his shoulders and allowed herself to be pressed against the wall.

"I dunno," she said slowly, pretending to think. "I really thing you might have to use your whole body to keep me warm..."
 
"My whole body?" John replied, pretending to think hard about that. "Well... that could be done..." He turned his attention to the other nipple then, tongue circling it as he tugged gently with his lips. His hand continued to provide attention to the now-abandoned breast, callused thumb rolling the damp nipple as he squeezed and lifted. "I think... yes, I think I'd be able to do that."

He adopted a serious face as he lifted his head and looked down into her eyes. "But... the only way I can do that is through skin to skin contact. We'd have to get you out of as many of these clothes as possible, to allow my body heat to transfer to you." Reluctantly, he lowered her until her feet were touching the ground. Then he began to work the buttons of her blouse. "So, we'll both need to be naked." A pause, as he tugged her blouse from her skirts and slipped it down over her shoulders. "For your health, of course."
 
Jenny worked hard to keep from smiling. She enjoyed their foreplay but it was often difficult to keep a straight face through all of it. The blouse slipped over her shoulders and she recomposed herself, looking up at him demurely. Just out of her view a shadow moved in an unnatural-seeming way and seemed to slither quickly out of the room.

"For my health, of course," she agreed, sliding his jacket off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground before tugging his shirt out of the waist of his pants. "After all, were I to fall ill you'd be left alone to take care of the children all on your own. And that wouldn't be fair to you if I let that happen and could have so easily prevented it." His shirt was gone and she tugged at the fastenings of his trousers, her demure look having turned coy and coquettish. There was a seductive edge to her voice as the candles cast a warm glow over her skin. "And you were a surgeon's mate...you of all people would know what's good for one's health." Her slender fingers deftly pushed away his smallclothes and wrapped gently around his thick, warm shaft. A low purr rose in her throat as she gently slid her hand up and down.

"What was that?!" Jenny's eyes were suddenly wide. Her hand stopped and she looked toward the entrance from whence they'd come as she heard more shuffling. Her voice was a low whisper as she leaned in. "John, I think someone's here." She knew, really, that it was silly to get scared of a ghost that in all likelihood didn't exist. But still, she couldn't rule it out of possibility. Not after their previous experience with magic.

"Jennifer? John?"

"Da??" Her eyes went wider and she glanced at her husband before pulling her hand away and pulling her blouse up.
 
John growled low in his throat as Jenny found his hardness and began to slide her hand up and down his length. "Oh, yes," he agreed. "I do know what's good for one's health. But..." he began bunching her skirts in one hand, drawing them up until he could slide his fingers under them and down between her legs. "I'll need to do a thorough check."

As he spoke, his fingers parted the slick lips of her sex and began to caress her. "Your body temperature seems fine," he said, licking his lips as she soaked his fingers. He slipped one deeper, exploring her channel. "But I need to be..."

"What was that?!" Jenny went suddenly still, staring up at the stairway. "John, I think someone's here."

His thoughts went immediately to the Shadow Thing that had haunted him for a decade, but he didn't quite feel it's presence. "No, I don't think..."

"Jennifer?" called an extremely familiar voice. "John?"

"Da??" Jenny squeaked, as they both began hurriedly making themselves presentable. There was no way to disguise what they'd been up to, of course. Not that they needed to, but John didn't really want to show off in front of his father-in-law, and he rather knew that Jenny didn't want to either.

Michael came around the spiral staircase just in time to see John trying to fix up his trousers and Jenny her blouse, and he immediately stepped back out of sight. "It's sorry I am to interrupt you," he said, voice echoing down the stairs. "But... it's Anne. She's..."

John's heart seemed to stop as Michael hesitated.

"She's in a bad way. Real bad. And... you need to come home for her. Now."
 
Jenny hastened to make herself decent, her cheeks burning red with embarrassment. If it had been a friend perhaps it would have been something to laugh sheepishly about later, but her father...? Well, there was no way he could have thought she'd magically given birth to four children, but to be caught in the act was humiliating indeed. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach and her hands stopped on the laces of her bodice as he hesitated to tell them what was wrong.

"How do you mean?" Jenny seemed to have forgotten John's presence as she finished tying her laces and picked up the candle.

"It's ah...her breathin'. Gettin' real hard like, and she's moving less than usual." Michael's face was solemn as she came around the corner. "Jennifer..."

But nothing else needed to be said. Jenny picked up her skirts as best she could with one hand and sprinted up the stairs and over the wall, never minding the pain throbbing in her ankle when she landed funny. She didn't wait for John or Michael; they could probably keep up and her baby needed her. Perhaps this was...no. No she couldn't think like that. There was a stitch in her chest as she pushed through the branches of the copse of trees and through to town. Only one thought could form in her mind and it was the most terrible thought imaginable. The doctor's voice came back to her, clear as it had been nearly four years ago.

Lucky if she sees three. Lucky if she sees three. Lucky...

Mary jumped when her daughter burst through the door, but didn't say anything. Anne was wailing in pain with her head in her grandmother's lap. Jenny sat next to them and pulled her daughter into her own lap. Her lips were blue. Fear clutched her heart but she smoothed down her daughter's hair and shushed her gently.

"When the men get here tell 'em I've gone to Doctor Winchester," she said over her shoulder, standing and heading toward the door. Mary opened her mouth to say something, but Jenny was already gone. In the quiet night she leaned Anne's face into her shoulder to muffle her cries, choking down her own tears. "Y'know the more you cry the harder 'tis to breathe, lovie," she murmured quietly as they walked, but Anne would have none of it. She was in pain and she was scared. It was nearly one in the morning when Jenny pounded on the doctor's door as hard as she could.
 
Lust and desire evaporated at Michael's words. John hesitated for the barest instant, considering grabbing their basket and supplies, and then abandoned them. Tugging on his coat he flew up the stairs after his wife, unable to see anything but the fear in Jenny's eyes and the heart-stopping dread of Anne's face wracked with pain. Fast as he was, though, Jenny was faster still. He knew he could run a mile in less time than it would take to tell, but Jenny was moving with the speed of a mother hurrying to her child's side.

By the time John reached the Dolan house, John's lungs were heaving with effort and there was a stitch in his side and his calves and thighs felt as if they'd been carved from wood. He shoved open the door, finding Mary holding Anne, hearing Anne's agonized, terrified cries. And flickering in the darkness created by the lamp, he saw his Shadow Thing hunched and watching. Waiting. And it cackled in time with her screams.

"John," Mary said, looking up. "Jenny's gone..."

As she started to explain, John saw the Shadow Thing slouch forward. It stalked his little girl, slinking like a cat closing on a bird. "NO!" John roared, lunging to intercept it.

"...to fetch - what are you doing, John Sparrow?" Mary's eyes were wide now, staring with shock as John hit the ground in a crouch.

John didn't care what she thought, not now. He shifted his weight, moving to keep himself between his mocking familiar spirit and his daughter. "Back," he snarled at it. "You'll not have her."

mine, mocked the Shadow Thing. she's mine.

"John! Your daughter needs you!"

"Back!" John snapped.

mine.

In desperation, John gripped the three pendants he still wore around his neck - the crucifix Jenny had given him, and a Star of David he'd acquired in the Levant, and an eye he'd found in Cairo. Jenny had questioned them before, but he'd gotten too used to them to give them up. The Shadow Thing merely sniggered at him.

no faith, captain. the symbols mean nothing without it.

"I believe in my family," John gritted out. With a snarl, he drove the fist that clutched them into the Shadow Thing. It shrieked and recoiled, flowing and slithering out the door and into the darkness.

Rising shakily to his feet, John gathered Anne into his arms. Mary stared at him as if he were mad. "Mullein," he whispered. "Mullein and hyssop. It'll..." He swallowed hard, watching his little girl gasp and struggle for breath. "Brew a tea. It helps the breathing."

Mary hesitated, then rose and headed for the kitchen. "Jenny... went to fetch Doctor Winchester," she said.

John nodded. "He'll be some small help," he said, collapsing into the chair. "As much as any of them have been." Then he flinched as the door opened, half-expecting to see the Shadow Thing once more. But it was only Michael, breathing hard as he entered.
 
"Mrs. Sparrow?" Doctor Winchester blinked owlishly in the candlelight. He was in his nightshirt and cap looking quite exhausted and bewildered as Jenny leaned against his doorframe, gasping for breath. "What're you--?"

"It's Anne," she gasped, still unable to catch her breath. "Dr. Winchester please, you have to help us. She...she can't breathe. She's in so much pain, please..."

Without another word the doctor turned to grab his medical kit and shoes before setting out with her, still in his nightshift. Jenny tried not to lose her patience with him; he was old and moved much slower than he would've liked. If they moved too slowly then Anne...No. This wasn't her time, tonight wasn't the night. She wouldn't let it be.

When they arrived to the Dolans' house poor Anne was still crying in her father's embrace. Some of the blue had faded from her lips but not entirely. Jenny collapsed next to her mother and leaned on her, trying not to be so visibly upset. It would only scare Anne more. She watched the doctor as he looked over her daughter, not willing to believe any prognosis other than that her little girl was fine.
 
Days passed in a blur of frantic, desperate haste.

As John had predicted, the doctor had been unable to do much for Anne. He had been the first to be consulted, after all, and the first to be unable to offer hope. But it had been he who, at the last, had recommended and administered a weak tincture of opiun to ease the frightened girl's pain and let her sleep.

The two frightened parents, receiving no such aid, sat a long vigil at her bedside that night. It was intimate in its way, filled with touching and wirdless sharing and occasionally with heightened pulses, but for none of the original reasons planned for that evening. Instead they watched desperatly as the drugged little girl shifted weakly and felt their breaths catch at each labored gasp. And John flinched, each time a shadow seemed to move in the darkened room.

But the days passed. And Anne lived.

Lived, but grew no better. And the doctor's bills began to mount, both for services that made no difference and medicines that did little but mask symptoms...
 
Jenny didn't get to sleep that night, nor several nights after. She kept vigil at her daughter's bedside, sometimes leaning against John and sometimes laying on the floor with a pillow from their own bed, watching Anne's chest rise and fall and holding her breath each time there was an abnormally long pause. Sometimes she would doze lightly in the wee hours of the morning, only to be awoken by the child's rattling wheeze, then a coughing fit, then gasping, before she could breathe normally again. The pillowcase seemed stiff with the salt from Jenny's silent tears.

But they couldn't save their Anne if they didn't work. Mrs. Sparrow held back tears each time she handed her little girl over to her mother along with little phials of opium to help her sleep. Whenever Anne was awake she was in pain, so it seemed a mercy to give her something to sleep. The regulars noticed that their waitress wasn't her usual cheerful self--she was too exhausted to force a smile anymore--and were kind enough to leave larger tips than usual whenever she explained what was wrong. Some of the sailors coming in were less forgiving and gave her little or nothing for her distracted service and lower tolerance for inappropriate behavior toward her.

Anne's fourth birthday passed early in the month, though there wasn't the usual celebration. The child was awake for her favorite meal, but drowsy and unable to finish it. By the time she had opened her gifts from her parents and grandparents she was once more in unbearable pain and was put to bed soon after. A few days later God seemed to have answered their prayers.

~*~

Dear Mister Sparrow,

While I realize that you specifically requested a land-based job for family reasons, I'm afraid the Company must call upon you to go to sea once more. The Wicked Wench is scheduled to sail within a fortnight, but her captain as just resigned his post for reasons unknown. Considering your experience and leadership, particularly in captaining the Lord Cavernon and taking on duties beyond your assigned post, your name has come up in several discussions. I would like to extend the offer to you to captain the Wicked Wench at twice the salary you earned in your position as supercargo. The ship is set to sail to Nigeria on the twenty-fifth of November, so I urge you to send reply as soon as possible.

Respectfully,

Cutler Beckett
East India Trading Company

~*~

Jenny sat at the table once the children had gone to bed, re-reading the letter that had arrived that afternoon for what seemed to be the hundredth time. Sighing, she set it down and rubbed her face before looking up at John. She didn't want him to go back to sea; raising four children on her own, not knowing where he was or when he was coming home, all the horrible things that had happened to him before...she hated it. But now he was making less than he had at sea and was being offered twice that amount. She was sick in her heart, but she knew what had to be done.

"It's the answer to our prayers, John," she said tiredly. "God's plan is perfect and His timing is always perfect. Anne's health is failing, we both know that. With this job we could pay Doctor Winchester's bills and maybe even afford a better doctor, maybe from London or something." The candle light shone off of the tears welling in her eyes. "We might be able to save her."
 
He should have seen tbe letter as a miracle. A genuine gift from God, to ease his family burdens. Instead it just seemed to squat and stare, mocking and whispering that he would never return. Sighing, he sat down heavily next to Jenny and pulled his boots off. "I know," he murmured. "But..."

But what? Admit that he feared for his immortal soul if he took to the seas once more? Tell Jenny about Avalon and Hyperborea and Calypso? Admit his dread that, if he left, he would never return?

John's face twisted in agony. "Damnit, Jenny. You're right. But..." He looked at the door that ked to tbe bedrooms. "I can't bear the thought of leaving them.. of leaving you..." He shook his head, trying to shake emotion away at the same time.

There was no escaping it, though. They needed him, true. But they also needed money. So he sighed again. "I... I'll tell him. In the morning."
 
The agony on Jenny's face matched her husband. "I know, John. Believe me, we don't want you to go. If there was any way you could make that sort of money at home..." She shook her head. "You know I'm not a greedy woman. I'd have married you if you had all of Soloman's golf or nothing more than the clothes on your back. But this illness... If there's any way to beat it we have to try, and that takes more than prayers alone and God is providing. Without this job, John, Anne will..."

She choked. Her daughter had been sick for years but now it finally seemed to sink in even as the words died in her throat. Without this job, Anne will die. Jenny believed in her family; in her husband and her daughter, in God and in hope...but they seemed to have come to the beginning of the end. No matter how hard she had prayed and hoped and pleaded with God, now it finally seemed to hit her all at once: she was going to bury her daughter. Even if now wasn't Anne Sparrow's time, that time would come before the first wisps of gray touched her mother's hair. The sudden, entirely unwanted realization left Jenny's knees shaking and made it hard to breathe.

"John..." Her hand found his as panic gripped her chest and she gasped for air. Her heart began to race. She tasted metal and her head swam while the dim light of the candle seemed to fade as her vision narrowed to a tiny point. Jenny's grip tightened and she slowly, carefully as she could laid her head on the table to hyperventilate in her desperate quest for more air. "John I can't... I can't..." Tears prickled her eyes. A faint buzzing filled her head and her scalp tingled.

Eventually she found the presence of mind to try to force herself to take slow, deep breaths. Her heart slowed and things began to return to normal, though the metallic taste was slower to fade than everything else. Eventually she was left with her head on the table, shaking and sweating and breathing slowly with a white knuckle grip on John's hand while tears coursed quietly across her face and onto the wood.

"You have to go, John," she begged in a shaking voice. "God knows I can't stand when you're at sea... But you have to go. It's her only chance."
 
Agony coursed through him, as he watched Jenny collapse onto the table. Her grip on his hand was tight, painfully tight, and he was glad of it. The pain kept his own tears at bay. He held her as she wept, held her and wished he could say something to comfort her. But there were no words that could sooth the horrors of the simple phrase "Anne will die."

Finally, she spoke again. Her voice shook as she begged him to go. "I know, Jenny," he managed, his own voice thick with grief. He pulled her into his arms, shaking with his own unshed tears as he did, and clung to her. "I know it's her only hope. I just..."

Hot tears trickled down his cheeks as his voice broke. "I... I..." He swallowed hard, tried again. "I... know it's... it's God's will... and we need... neec to have faith. But why Anne? Why can't it be me, instead?"
 
It was a question Jenny couldn't answer. She still didn't have the answer nearly three weeks later when they once again stood on the quay, a family huddled together in a moment far too somber for a month before Christmas. Jenny stepped carefully in an effort not to slip on the frost that had crusted the planks in the early morning and had yet to melt. Anne, afraid of using her braces on such a slick surface, carefully wheeled herself across the wood while Jack guided her chair straight and steady. She had insisted on taking her medicine later so she could see John off, and so her breath rose in inconsistent puffs. The twins could toddle along on their own but to save time had been carried by each parent; even they seemed to know something was wrong.

"Just come back to us on time this time, eh Captain Sparrow?" Jenny suggested with a grim, forced smile. She had gotten her tears out the night before. She didn't like crying in front of the children; she had to keep them hopeful and happy, and the woes of their parents oughtn't taint their childhood. "Africa, the islands, the Colonies, then straight home. No side trips." She hugged her husband tightly before her focus shifted over his shoulder. "You make sure he stays his course, Mister Gibbs."

"Aye, ma'am!" The King's Navy hadn't agreed with Gibbs and in the years since he'd become a private contractor, sailing for the East India Company and the like.

"Daddy don't go!" Anne begged, coughing. "It's almost Christmas."

Jenny sighed and smoothed down her eldest daughter's hair with her free hand. "He has to go, darling," she explained tiredly. "Mister Beckett has given Daddy a very good opportunity to do right by us." There was no way she was telling any of them the truth behind John leaving. She wouldn't have Anne thinking it was her fault Daddy was going away, nor would she allow her siblings to blame her.

"Mister Beckett's a stupid face!"

"Jack!" she said sharply, cuffing him gently upside the head. "It's because of Mister Beckett your father's got a job at all. You ought to show some gratitude. It was by God's will Daddy met Mister Beckett when he did and now it's God's will he's asked him to go back to sea, and with a promotion no less. And God's plan is perfect, isn't it?"

"Yes..." the boy answered sullenly.

"So ought we question God's plan for each of us?"

"No..." Jack didn't meet his mother's gaze as he scuffed his toe against the wood. The bosun's shrill whistle cut the chilly, wintery air. Jenny winced but gently pushed Jack forward.

"Now say goodbye, Jack."

Their only son stumbled forward and flung his arms around John's waist. He sniffed thickly, but didn't cry. Wouldn't cry. Boys don't cry.
 
John knelt and hugged his son tightly. "I wish I could stay," he said. "But your mother's right. Sometimes, you have to make the hard choice to make the right choice - and I believe you're man enough to understand that, Jack."

"I..." the boy sniffled and buried his face in his father's shoulder. "I don't wanna!"

"I don't either, Jack," John told him. "But, that's the hard choice. Doing what you have to do. Remember the rules?"

Jack sniffled. "The.. the only rules... that matter... is..."

"Is what a man can do, and what a man can't do," John finished. "And going back to sea to take care of you and your sisters and your mother is what I can do." He kissed the boy on the forehead. "And what you can do is help take care of your sisters until I come back. Can you do that for me?"

Jack sniffed again. "Yes."

"Good," John smiled. "I'm proud of you son. I always will be."

Rising again, he hugged Anne close. "I wish I could stay for Christmas," he told her. And then he hugged her again, struck by the sudden terror that he might never see her again. "I love you, Anne." It took an act of will to release her small frame as he turned to the twins and kissed them.

And then he was staring into Jenny's green eyes, moist with unshed tears. He held her close, trying to commit the feel of her body and the scent of her hair to memory. "I won't be gone long, love," he tried to assure her. "One trip, to the Ivory Coast and then to Jamaica and back. You'll see." He ignored the whistling and hooting of his men as he kissed her fiercely. "I love you, Jenny Sparrow. I love you, and I'll be back." A smile trembled on his lips. "My own rare, beautiful black pearl."

Another kiss. And then he had to force himself to release her and stride up the gangplank.
 
"I love you too, Daddy." Anne wrapped her arms around her father's neck before taking something from Jack and placing it on John's head. "Don't forget your hat." She smiled sadly. It was the hat Jack had sent him on his first voyage four years ago.

Jenny fell into her husband's arms when he held her and kissed her. The men on the ship whooped and whistled, but she paid them no mind. He was her husband and he was going away for God knew how long; she wasn't going to let them ruin this last kiss. She clung tightly to John, unwilling to let go and afraid that if she did her tears would finally fall.

"I love you so much, John," she returned, voice trembling. "Come back to us, alright?"

One more kiss and he had to go. She understood that he was forcing himself to let go, to walk up the gangplank, and she wouldn't make it harder for him. When he reached the top Jenny saw Bill Turner and Hector Barbossa greet her husband and she smiled a little. He was safe and in good hands.

~*~

November the twenty-fourth, year of our Lord God seventeen hundred and nine

My love,

You've been gone two days and already my heart aches for you. On Sunday I'll have the children write their letters to you, but I have no such restraint. I missed you even as we watched your ship push away from the harbor. If only they could pay you as much on land as they do as ship's captain. But still, this promotion may be what we need and everyone here is proud of you for gaining such notice in the Company.

Anne's health continues as it has been, neither worsening nor improving. She took her medicine shortly after you left and slept most of the morning. Of course whenever she wakes she's in pain, but she's started trying not to show it I think for my benefit. I fear the day she realizes what's happening to her. Until then, I suppose I can play along and try to show my worry less. Missus Upson told me today that they're taking up a collection at church to help us pay for her bills and medicines, which I thought very kind of them all though I doubt a single collection could sustain us much more than a month.

Brigid and Lucy have been asking after you, in their own way. It's all baby talk, obviously, but they know something's wrong. I've drawn them a picture of a boat and explained Daddy's gone on a trip, but I'm not sure they understand. Ma's taken them down the harbor on good days before and I think perhaps they think I meant a fishing trawler, for they still ask for you before bedtime.

Jack has taken your words to heart. Since you left he's been even more protective of Anne than usual, and has started talking about working to help. He wants to apprentice with Mister O'Leary, the blacksmith, so he "can be strong enough to hit those boys that tease Anne." Daniel was a neighbor of ours back in Carlow, so naturally I wouldn't be opposed to our son apprenticing with him when he's old enough. But I've made it clear to Jack that there'll be no scrapping of any sort or I'll send him to apprentice with the net mender. You know how he hates to sit still and I imagine it takes a lot of patience. I've also made it clear that he's not to apprentice before he's fourteen. He recites the "rules" at me and insists that what he can do is go to work, but I won't have it. He ought to be a child while he still can.

I don't know if you'll still be at sea when this reaches you. How long a journey is it to the Ivory Coast? Surely longer than to Egypt, which you said took two or three months. That means it will at least be summer by the time you return. Our tenth anniversary is in April... I do pray you will be home by then. Is there any way you can make your men sail faster? Ten years is quite a remarkable anniversary, you know, and its hard to believe it will have already been that long. All at once it feels like it's been both forever and no time at all.

I must close here. Anne is wakeful tonight and the medicine doesn't seem to be working as well. I love you with all the fire in my soul, John. Please come back to me soon.

Your devoted wife,
Jenny

~*~

The letter did indeed reach John while he was still at sea, carried by a ship that had letters for several of his crew as well. It arrived with other letters from his wife as well as the two eldest Sparrow children. The twins had drawn pictures, though it was impossible to tell of what and even Jenny's note on the back--which usually explained it--admitted she hadn't been able to pry from them or decipher what they'd scribbled in charcoal. It was nearly Christmas. John had been gone for a month, destined to miss yet another Christmas and possibly an anniversary and several birthdays. All his family would want is for him to come home.
 
November 22, 1709

"Twenty-six hundred nautical miles," John - Jack, Captain Jack as the men called him and as he'd already started to think of himself again - said, tapping his compass against the chart. "By my calculations, and assuming the Wicked Wench is as fast as claimed, we could make it in... eighteen days."

Hector Barbarossa leaned over the map, eyeing it carefully. "Aye. But d'ye think we'll make it that swiftly?"

Jack snorted derisively. "No. The Wench's a fine ship, don't get me wrong. But she still sails at the whims of the wind and currents. Call it twenty-four days, and then we'll consider ourselves lucky if we make sooner."

"And what d'ye suppose the cargo be, Cap'n?"

He shrugged at that. "No idea. Beckett wouldn't say, except to say that's in the hands of Mr. Lands. I know we're trading muskets and powder and tools to the blacks, though. So, ivory and hides?"

"For transshipment to Jamaica?" Barbarossa questioned.

Jack shrugged again. "Trade them to Spanish and French merchants for gold and silver, and then deny that's where it came from?"

The larger man clapped him on the shoulder. "I like the way ye think, Cap'n. I like the way ye think."


December the Sixth, the Year of our Lord seventeen hundred and nine.

My darling Jenny,

The Wicked Wench has been at sea for two weeks, and by my reckoning we shall reach the Ivory Coast in another week's time. This ship is a magnificent one, and yet while I am privileged to Captain her and to provide for Our family, I find myself longing for my own wicked wench. She moves beneath me as well, and yet I find I never tire of her motion. Or of lying in her tender embrace as I drift off into sleep, or of seeing her when I rise.

I am pleased to hear that young John is considering seriously his apprenticeship, and blacksmithing is a good trade. And yet, after having had some experience with him, I would rather he attend school and enter into the law. He is a bright lad, quick of wit and quick with his tongue, and the profession would suit him well. Perhaps the captain's share of the profits of this voyage will both pay for Anne's care and for his education.

I had also hoped to receive better news of Anne, but the good Lord will provide. He has provided me with this new job when we needed money, and He has granted that Anne's health - although it does not yet improve, at least grows no worse. At least it does not seem to have afflicted her writing hand. Her letter, and John's as well, were a delight. As were the pictures drawn by the twins, even if I am uncertain what they represent. Give my love to all of them, and tell them that they are in my heart.

You, however, are not in my heart. You are my heart, Jenny, and it is your love that sustains me wherever I may be in this world. I fear I must end this letter, though, as the Grisselda is preparing to set sail and she will carry this to you. Let these pitiful words carry as well the love that I can never fully express. And until that blessed day when we are united once more, I remain

Your loving husband,
John


December 12, 1709

"Laaaannnnnd... hoooo!" bellowed the watch.

Jack placed his spyglass to his right eye, and peered through. "The Ivory Coast," he sighed, looking over the sparkling white beach which sloped up into tall grasses and finally into the dense, lush growth of the jungle. "And there's the Cavally, two points off the port bow and a dozen knots distant."

Folding the spyglass and tucking it away, he angled the wheel of the ship to take them towards the river. "Someone wake Mr. Lands, and let him know we need further directions."
 
Mr. Lands was woken forthwith and gave the helmsman direction to which port they should pull into. It took a good portion of the day to unload their cargo into the port, and they were told that they would have to wait yet another day for their new cargo to be loaded before they could sail for Jamaica. Throughout the day and a good portion of the night many of the newer sailors complained--or reveled in--how bloody hot it was for two weeks before Christmas. Barbossa, the first mate, had long been sailing to the warmer parts of the world and only seemed grateful for the shade of his admittedly rather large hat.

The following morning, Terry Ragetti--having lost an eye since last he served with Jack--shuffled over to him. He seemed uneasy about something, and hesitant to speak. Finally he plucked up the courage, casting a glance over the side of the ship.

"Erm...Cap'n...?" He still sounded uncertain. After all, it was a rather prickly subject even on land. But he had his morals and what's right is right, he decided as he fidgeted and cast another sideways glance toward shore. "Have you uh...have you seen our new cargo yet?"

Down on the shore were slavers--both black and white--herding what must have been nearly a hundred African slaves into the cargo hold like livestock. Some of the slavers beat at the more resistant ones, others tore children from their mothers and wives from their husbands. It was not a quiet loading, certainly; cries of pain, of emotional anguish, of anger all lifted into the heavy tropical air. Ragetti fidgeted more, looking for Captain Jack's reaction.

~*~

Jenny's knees went a little wobbly as she read the first part of John's letter and she felt the color rise in her cheeks. It was funny how after nearly ten years she still acted like a schoolgirl when he showed her that sort of attention, even in his letters. Her eyebrows raised mildly at her husband's wishes for their son's future. Was captaining going to pay him that much? She supposed Jack could apprentice with Sean, or whatever it was solicitors and barristers did in place of apprenticing. After all, in the past ten years Sean Dolan had become quite a successful barrister and had even considered moving to London for a while. That had been put out by his wife Elizabeth, who knew only Dover and had become pregnant with their second child soon after Sean had started considering the move. But school was just so expensive! After hearing her parents talk about what it had taken to help put Sean through it, she thought John would be earning them a small fortune if he was able to seriously talk of school.

December the Twenty-Seventh
Year of Our Lord God Seventeen Hundred and Nine

Dearest John,

A belated merry Christmas to you, though I also wrote a letter Christmas night saying the same, and an early happy New Year as I suppose you won't see this until then. Your last letter made me weak in the knees, you know, and in all the right ways. I always wish to say something like that, but you've always been much more the poet than I am. There are times I wonder whether there's anything you're not good at, and usually fail to think of a single thing. I suppose the best I can say is that even when you return home you'll not be without your wicked wench, and your pearl will never fade for you.

Of course I would prefer to send Jack to school, but neither you nor I come from a wealthy family John. We're laymen. Unless there's some unknown profit from this voyage which you failed to tell me of, I don't see how we could possible send him to school and take care of Anne. Though I pray that you're right in that this voyage will pay for both, I won't be putting all my eggs in one basket. Should Jack become a layman like us, I'm glad we at least agree that smithing is a suitable profession for him. If we're able to send him to school, though, I suppose he could apprentice with Sean as he's already a barrister. Perhaps it could become somewhat of a family occupation.

Anne still has not improved in the while since I've last written you. And yes thank God that He has stayed any decline in her health and provided us with a way to pay her medical expenses. While of course I'd rather her whole and healthy, I do thank Him still that this illness has only affected her legs, not her hands or her mind. When she is old enough she could perhaps find work as a seamstress; I've started teaching her needlepoint and she proves to be quite adept at it. I've enclosed a sampler she completed for you for Christmas. The twins do still ask for you, though I now have to assure them that you are, indeed, coming back home and soon.

I fear I must close here, as dawn approaches and I have to get the children up and ready so I can go to the Anchor. I've not been sleeping well, so I find it helpful to write to you whenever I am wakeful in the early morning. I pray God deliver you swiftly back into my arms.

Eternally yours,
Jenny

Enclosed was a needlework sampler, inexpertly framed. Anne's stitches were uneven but close together and tidy. A piece of fabric was decorated with various things of a nautical theme--including a sail boat and an anchor--which appeared to have been drawn by Jenny then stitched over as Anne followed the lines. In the middle was stitched a selection from Psalm 107: "They cried out to the LORD in their trouble, and He brought them from their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper; and the waves of the sea were hushed. Let them give thanks to the LORD for His unfailing love."

~*~

"...Think he might be home by our anniversary," Jenny was telling Ben Halliwell. He'd started hanging around more again now that John had gone back off to parts unknown. It was out of a brotherly concern, she was certain. "It would be nice, wouldn't it?" It was late February, and word had yet to reach Jenny of what had happened. Indeed, it hadn't even reached the ears of the Company, though it soon would.
 
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