Fic: 'Stormalong' (3/8 - J/E - 'R')
Chapter 3, and 4's off to hereswith for editing.
~ Stormalong ~
Chapter One: Errand
Chapter Two: Disaster
Chapter Three: Shadows
Jack had been scanning the shoreline through his spyglass for some time, off and on, as the Pearl made its way toward the harbor at Île Sainte-Thérèse. A small number of folk slowly gathered at the waterfront to watch - "You'd think great black pirate ships came into port every day of the week," he remarked to Gibbs - but the Pearl was nearly ready to ease up behind the Empress at the wharf before he spotted Elizabeth, some distance away, hurrying toward them from a sidestreet, accompanied by Tai Huang and another man, youngish and dressed in a brown cassock. Jack took the wheel from Cotton to bring the Pearl in, and then kept half an eye on Elizabeth and the other half on his ship as he issued orders to Gibbs, who relayed them to the crew rather more sharply. The Pearl was quickly tied off and settled in, and the big gangplank was lowered with a firm thump.
Jack, resplendent in his piratiness (he'd repaired to his cabin to primp an hour before - first impressions counted for a great deal, in his considerable experience), debarked and made his way up the wharf. The small crowd at the end parted to allow Elizabeth and her escorts to pass through and the three strode toward him, Tai Huang looking a little sardonic as he glanced 'tween captain and captain, Elizabeth looking resolute, and cassock-lad looking more and more astounded by Jack and the Pearl.
"Captain Sparrow!" Elizabeth greeted him. She seemed composed enough for the most part, though something lurked at the back of her eyes, some unquiet he'd seen before.
"Captain Swann," he returned, and took the hand she held out. Her fingers closed on his, rather convulsively, and he squeezed back, keeping hold as she introduced him.
"Captain Sparrow, this is Jori: a very capable young man who is an acolyte under the parish priest, Father Anselm. Jori, this is Captain Jack Sparrow, Pirate Lord of the Caribbean."
Jori's eyes widened further. "Vraiment?" he breathed.
Jack's mouth twitched against a grin as Jori bowed, then bowed again. "Aye, vraiment."
"Your fame goes before you, capitaine. Our benefactress, Capitaine Swann, has told us much about you."
"That so?"
"Oui! She entertains the little ones - and not only the little ones! - with tales of your exploits. It helps them to forget the… the difficulties of the present."
"Difficulties." Jack slid his eyes toward Elizabeth and said, "I thought something of that nature must've detained her. Would you care to enlighten me as to the extent of said difficulties, Captain Swann?"
She slipped her hand from his grasp and met his gaze squarely. "Since you've been to the Cove you must know of the news that Henri Pontchartrain brought, of the destruction and illness that have stricken the people of the Île. We returned to find the situation far worse than we'd imagined. The people here were in need of more than just supplies. My crew and I elected to stay and help."
Jack glanced at Tai Huang, who gave both a nod and a small shrug. Elizabeth's Chinese crew was accustomed to these quixotic fits and starts of hers. Jack supposed she'd come by them honestly, what with her father a royal governor, and a decent one from most accounts. Jack had called her pirate when she'd ensured his own demise all those years ago, but it was the good of the many that she'd had in mind then, as ever, and damn anyone who got in her way. Very unpiratical, really - or perhaps it was just that there was a touch of the pirate in every good ruler. In any case, here she was, doing it again, though it was his heart that was chained this time, not his wrist.
He studied her, now: tired and worried, but straight and calm and maybe a little defiant. He had a feeling he'd already lost any argument he could advance, even if he got her into his cabin for a private discussion. So instead of suggesting it, he bowed and said to her, "Quite in accord with what we've come to expect from Your Beneficence. P'rhaps you'd like to show me around a bit, so I can see for meself what's toward and determine the Black Pearl's part in this play."
"Play," she echoed. But then she visibly gathered herself. "Very well. Yes. Come then, and we'll show you."
*
There were a few of the townsfolk that had been healthy enough and shamed enough to leave their homes and assist the Chinese pirates with the repair of their town, but not many. Progress was being made, but more slowly than they had hoped, Elizabeth said. Jack sniffed, and frowned at the massive damage to the east side of the town - seven people buried alive, and the rest of the hundred or so residents now homeless and living in a makeshift camp of flimsy tents!
Or, if they'd fallen ill of the fever, in the church.
The time and effort and money that went into the building and furnishing of these enormous edifices, found in every land where Catholicism held sway, had often seemed a hideous waste of substance to Jack. He had to admit, though, that this particular example was being put to excellent use at the moment. Only the sacristy, the altar, and the area directly in front of the latter was reserved for their usual purpose, the rest of the building being given over to the housing and care of the sick during the crisis that was upon them. The afflicted were everywhere, many dozens of them, mattresses of varying thickness, or simply blankets, the only things between them and the marble floor. There were the usual dreadful smells and sounds that were found in sick rooms, but these were somewhat mitigated by the vast airiness of the vaulted ceiling, the scent of incense which had seeped into the very stones of the building, and the melodious sound of Father Anselm as he chanted the prayers of the Rosary.
"He's oddly squeamish, and not much good as a nurse," Elizabeth told Jack, quietly, "but he is diligent in his religious duties, and it seems to comfort the sick. Jori is of far more practical use - no task seems too abhorrent for him, and he has an easy way with invalids of any age."
Jack would have asked how she fared herself amid all this illness - and death: Tai Huang said that over two dozen had succumbed and another dozen were like to in the next couple of days - but there was no need. One Soeur Marguerite, precise and doe-eyed, came to them halfway through the grim tour, swept a startled glance over Jack as they were introduced, then begged Elizabeth to come help with a particularly recalcitrant patient. Jack followed along and stood a little way off, watching as Elizabeth knelt and patiently coaxed a feverish, fretful woman to swallow a cup of that horrid medicinal tea the crew of the Empress swore by: able to cure anything from a blistered heel to the Black Death, or so they'd told Jack when he'd been abed with an ague himself the previous year - made him shudder just to think of the taste of it!
"Her name is Louise, and she's the mother of five children," Elizabeth explained when the woman was laid down and tucked in again. The King of Pirates wiped her hands on a rather stained towel she'd tucked into the belt 'round her slim waist, then brushed a stray wisp of golden hair back off her forehead. "One of her children died - he was among the first victims - and now two more have caught it. She longs to care for them herself, and frets a good deal-- insists she's never ill!"
She smiled, but Jack did not - such jests fell too close to home -- and her smile faltered.
"Come, " she said, "I'll introduce you to Henri Pontchartrain. He'll wish to meet you."
They found Pontchartrain in a small alcove of the church that was lined with tall, many-paned windows that let in more sun and warmth than was available in the nave. He was tending his young brother, Emile, a thin, half-grown lad whom Jack could see was very ill indeed, and not long for this world.
Henri was remarkably good-looking, with dark hair, golden skin, and a good figure - and he looked to be only few years older than Elizabeth. Moreover, his admiration for Her Nibs was quite evident, his worried face lighting as soon as he laid eyes upon her. But he jumped up and professed himself all gladness to meet the famous Captain Jack Sparrow at last, and Elizabeth's indulgent smile, the same one she'd use on any other worshipful youth (and Lord knew there'd been plenty over the years) told Jack he had nothing to fear from that quarter.
Not that he was afraid. Or jealous.
He bowed, to Henri, and then to the youngster, Emile, who was awake. Emile, pitiful creature that he was, held out a hand, and was trying to say something to him. Jack drew closer, and crouched beside the cot.
"You are a pirate!" Emile said, his eyes overbright, running curious fingers along the sleeve of Jack's coat.
"That I am, lad." Jack's mouth quirked. "Though so's the lady, here, for that matter."
"Capitaine Swann. She has told me stories…" He broke off, closing his eyes against some pain within.
"I daresay. Hers can't compare with mine, of course," Jack said, lightly, hoping to distract him.
Emile recovered a little, and opened his eyes again. "Will you tell me one? Please, capitaine. One about the sea."
"The sea!" Jack hesitated, but only very briefly. "A vast subject, me lad. I'd better sit down for it, eh?"
And he eased down, cross-legged, next to the low cot, and for half an hour spun a tale for the boy, of wind and waves, and his great black ship, his Pearl, straining toward that far horizon.
On to Chapter Four