Harry & the Pirate IV: The Chalice of St. Francis
Chapter Three: A Tale of Treasure
To Harry’s relief, it seemed that when the priest had said he was not alone on the island, he had meant that his ever-faithful companion in adversity had been God. Good tidings, indeed, but she and Anatole and the injured priest endured nearly an hour of waiting before further relief arrived, in the form of little Tom returning with Jack and two others. The rescuers finally emerged from the forest and walked quickly along the shore toward the trio by the stream.
Harry excused herself, and waded back across to meet the rescue party. Tom sped toward her, yelling, “Mama! I’ve brought Da for you!”
Harry smiled, “So you have, you clever boy!”
“I’ll go see them, shall I?” Tom said, rushing past.
“Be careful crossing the stream!” Harry turned to Jack, who had a crooked smile on his face as he looked at her. She said, “Don’t tell me! I look the veriest hoyden!” and held out her hand.
“Took the words right out o’ me mouth,” said Jack, taking the hand and kissing it, then tucking it in his arm as they followed in Tom’s wake. “Should’ve left the hat on, love: your nose is turnin’ pink. Who’s our new friend?”
“His name is Father Taddeo Angelini, and he is Italian, and a Franciscan priest. Oh, Jack, he has been through a dreadful ordeal! I wonder he is still alive!”
“So Owens said. I’ve sent him for Gibbs and Bowers, and things to make a stretcher so we can take him back to the ship.”
They crossed the stream, and the priest turned his head toward them as they approached.
Harry said, “Father, this is my husband, Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl, and there are two other men, with him, Mr. O’Brien and Mr. Matelot, and Michael Owens will return presently with more help!”
The priest smiled serenely. “I thank the good God, who has sent you, Captain.”
Jack took the hand that was held out to him. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Father. You’ve been here a week?”
“No, no! Five days only, I think, though the first two are a little unclear to me now.”
“And your ankle’s broken? May I look?”
“Tom!” said Harry, “Come away so your father can see.” Tom stood up from where he’d been crouched by the priest and she took her son’s hand and led him aside.
Jack took some time assessing the priest’s injuries, carefully examining the ankle, though he left the eyes alone for the moment, and questioning the man regarding his tormentors. To Jack’s surprise, Father Taddeo was very forthcoming.
“It was a Spaniard, Don Rodrigo de Esparza, who is now Viceroy of Santiago. I was sent to retrieve a great treasure from him, which he took from us when he came to visit us in Assisi-for you must know that our order has the good fortune to make its home there.”
“Took it from you? D’you mean he stole it?” Jack asked.
“It appears so, though we did not like to think it of him. But when I finally found him, and asked him to return it, he was very much opposed to the idea, as you can see.”
‘A master of understatement, ain’t you, Padre?” said Jack, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “You just found him and asked him for it?” Such plain dealing was quite foreign to Jack’s nature, and he shook his head in disbelief.
“Why yes, Captain. You may wonder at this, but we make every effort to believe good of our fellow men, until we are proven wrong. Unfortunately, the proof in this case nearly led to the failure of my quest. But now you and your charming lady have come, and all will be well.”
“Will it?” said Jack. “And just what is this great treasure, then?”
“Why the chalice of our beloved patron, of course! The greatest heirloom of our order. Indeed, many miracles are attributed to it, the cup that the saint held in his own tender hands. It was left to us, his followers, and we have done great good with it these many years. It was not meant to be locked away in a jewel-crusted case, saved for the eyes of a few, as Esparza has done. God, in His wisdom has set this trial before us, and now he has sent you and your beautiful wife to help us.”
Jack’s brows had risen at the words ‘chalice’ and ‘jewel-crusted case’, but he said only, “Aye, well, that’s as may be. It’s early days to be talking of quests and adventures involving Spaniards who appear to be true children of the Inquisition. First we’ll get you back to the ship and see if we can set this ankle, and do anything to ease your other hurts.”
“I thank you, most sincerely, Captain. God is good.”
“That He is,” Jack agreed, amiably, getting up. He went over to where Harry was standing, alone as their son was now crouched at the edge of the stream, investigating the small fishes that darted about. Jack said to her, surreptitiously, “Mad as a Bedlamite, confronting a Spanish Don outright over such a thing!”
“Or innocent as a lamb?” Harry suggested.
“Maybe. Just as detrimental to one’s health, either one. Here comes Owens and the others.”
Tom looked up at these words and saw the remainder of the rescue party coming onto the beach. Dispensing with the formality of parental permission, he jumped to his feet, and splashed across the little stream to run and meet them, yelling, “Owens! Father Taddeo’s on a quest for treasure and we’re going to help him!”
“Oh, Lord,” Jack said, shaking his head.
“Out of the mouths of babes?” smiled his wife.
“Humph,” was the thoughtful reply.
* * *
“Ah, Madame!” said Amelie, chiding even as she attended her mistress, “You should be more careful to leave your hat on when you are exposed to the sun. It is so very damaging to the complexion. At court they would think you a peasant, with this golden cheek and pink nose.”
Harry sighed, wrinkling said nose as Amelie daubed it with rose-scented cream. “I daresay it will peel, and Weatherby will be appalled. But indeed that hat is most uncomfortable-the straw sticks me!”
“I will try to fix it as soon as you are dressed,” Amelie assured Harry, smiling.
But a few minutes later, when Harry was clean and cool and dressed in a serviceable gown of pale blue, Anatole and Louise came knocking and entered with a light luncheon and tea.
“Alphonse continues to aid the so skillful Mr. Gibbs in his role as surgeon,” Louise told her sister and her mistress, setting out the plates. “The poor priest was hurt even more than we knew: there are stripes on his back from a flogging he was given, before his eyes were damaged.”
“Oh, no!” Harry exclaimed, her appetite, usually excellent when presented with evidence of the couple’s skill, quite deserting her.
Jack had told her once, long ago, the tale of how he’d acquired the many stripes that adorned his own back, and though he’d seemed to make light of it she’d known him well enough by then to realize it had been quite the hardest thing he’d ever endured in a life fraught with injurious adventure. “I managed the flogging well enough-not a peep out o’ me, gi’ you me word, an’ then I passed out after a while, thank God. But then later, havin’ to lay still on that cot for all that time: days and days! I thought I’d go mad of boredom.”
“Not to mention the pain,” Harry had said tartly, quite horrified.
“Oh, aye. There is that. But at least you know you’re alive, eh? Now don’t look like that!” he’d added, severely, seeing how pale she’d become. “’Twas a long time ago, Harry. You were the one that wanted to know! Next time you ask I’ll keep me mouth shut. Nosy chit pretendin’ you ain’t squeamish as…”
“Shut up!” she’d snapped, consumed with sudden anger and love, and she pushed him down and fastened her mouth to his to enforce her words. There had followed an intense interlude that made the terrible images he’d painted fade away, but later they’d returned, of course, and they had lingered in the back of her mind, as such things will, during their years together, only to be prodded to the fore at this present.
But Anatole said, “The swim to shore cleansed the cuts, and they look to be healing well. As for the ankle, Monsieur Gibbs thinks that will be well also: he and Alphonse have set it and bandaged it. It is the poor eyes they will examine now.”
“H-how was the ankle broken?” Harry asked, hesitantly.
Anatole gave her a penetrating look and frowned. “But no, madame. There is no need to think about it. Eat now! A little of this chicken, hein? Or this fruit?”
Harry consented to having a slice of chicken placed on her plate, which she proceeded to toy with between sips of sweetened tea. And then Jack’s footsteps were heard in the passage and she looked up hopefully.
He came in and grinned at the company. “Havin’ a spot o’ lunch, then?”
“Sit down, Capitaine!” Anatole said, happily. “Perhaps you can persuade Madame to eat a little, too.”
Jack frowned at Harry, then said to Louise and Anatole, “Off ‘er feed, is she? I suppose you’ve been goin’ on about the Padre’s hurts, and you shouldn’t: she’s a great deal of sensibility when it comes to violence, hence her long and happy marriage to yours truly.” His lips twitched against a grin, seeing Harry bristle with annoyance.
“I am not squeamish!” she stated, then amended this by adding, “Unless it is someone I care for. To think of that poor, gentle man used in such a way!”
“Don’t think of it,” recommended her husband, with an edge to his voice. “Starvin’ yourself won’t change anything. He’s in good hands now, and we’ll take him to Port Royal where there are even better doctors. You’ll be pleased to know whoever did his eyes botched the job considerably: they were cut, but he can still see some light out of one. They’re bandaged, and the ankle’s set and he’s laid down to sleep for a bit. We’ll go visit him, later. Now have a bite to eat.”
Harry sighed, and seeing the sense of the command, obeyed, though with rather less than her usual enthusiasm. The meal devolved into an episode of give and take between them, of bits and bites savory and sweet, interspersed with fond coaxing and scolding. Anatole and Louise smiled, and Amelie shook her head and the three finally excused themselves, shutting the door behind them and leaving the Captain and his wife alone to finish the one repast and to, perhaps, embark on another.
* * *
The priest had been given efficacious medication derived from the fruit of the poppy, and had slept all afternoon and into the evening on a cot in an area that had been draped off to serve as a makeshift infirmary. However, after the dinner hour, Jack took Harry down to see the man, and she saw with relief that Father Taddeo looked as serene as ever, sleepily holding court with several members of the crew sitting near to listen to tales of the man’s experiences. The priest’s injured eyes were now covered with bindings, but he perked up as they came in.
“It is the Captain and his beautiful wife, no?”
“Yes,” Harry chuckled, adding chidingly as she came to crouch beside the cot, “though you cannot know that I am beautiful, sir, and I therefore must accuse you of groundless flattery.”
“But no, signora! I spoke of inner beauty-though I have heard a word or two of these things from certain of the crew, and of your husband, who is said to share these traits.”
“Have you now?” Jack said, not particularly pleased. The men who’d been listening to the priest’s tales rose abruptly and excused themselves.
Father Taddeo said, “I assure you, they spoke only with the greatest respect, Captain.”
Jack sat down on the stool next to the cot, and Harry looked up at him, eyes twinkling as she replied to the priest, “We are quite sure of it, Father. They are good men, all.”
“They’re pirates, Father,” Jack said, “Did you gather that from their words as well?”
“Oh, si, the excellent signores Gibbs and Alphonse spoke of this and many other things, while they tended my hurts earlier, in an effort to distract me from discomfort, which I must admit was considerable. But you are an English privateer, no?”
“Aye, that’s true. For the moment.”
“It’s been true for nearly seven years, now,” Harry pointed out, frowning, “But even before that my husband was the best of men though he was indeed a pirate captain.”
Jack said, in a gentler tone, “I don’t want him under any illusions as to our business, Harry.”
But the priest said, “No, Captain, you may think me too trusting, but I assure you I do know the world, and more than a little. I had no reason to suspect that Esparza was the villain he is when I began my quest, for he had appeared to us as a pious man, who only wished us well. We were mistaken in that, but I do not think I am mistaken in you, though I have known you and your company but a day.”
“As it happens you’re not,” agreed Jack, “but I doubt God would agree to me having much purity of soul to speak of.”
Father Taddeo chuckled. “My son, that is for the good God to determine. We are all of us sinners. I myself was not always a priest, you know, and the way of St. Francis, which calls for obedience, poverty, and chastity, is not an always an easy one. But I do the best I can, and for the rest I rely on the mercy of God, which is all any of us can do, in truth.”
This was so very much in opposition to the theologies expounded from the pulpit whenever Jack had found himself in the unavoidable position of having to attend a church of any denomination that he found himself exchanging a wondering look with Harry (who was nearly as ambivalent about religious practice as he was himself and looked back at him now with raised brows) and saying to the priest, “I daresay you’re right, Padre, though I never thought to hear a priest say so. But tell me: what were you then, in your youth?”
“Ah, the son of a wealthy merchant, indeed! I had every worldly pleasure to hand, for many years, and a mother and a nurse who indulged me endlessly, to my soul’s detriment. If you will both sit I will tell you a tale or two, of those days and of the change of heart that brought me to the priesthood and thence to this adventure of ours.”
Jack started to get up, so that Harry could take the single stool available, but she shook her head, eyes crinkling mischieviously, and put a finger to her lips as she stood. He grinned and drew her close as she came and sat on his knee, placed a silent kiss on her cheek, and turned back to the priest. “We’re all ears, Padre. Tell away!”
Father Taddeo smiled benignly.
* * *
It was some time later when Gibbs came in, accompanied by little Tom.
“There you are!” said Harry, “I was wondering if Owens had put you to bed without bringing you to us for a kiss goodnight!”
“I want to sit on Da too!” said Tom, and proceeded to climb up on his father’s vacant knee, oblivious to his mother’s blush and his father’s chuckle at being caught out.
Gibbs grinned and said, “Time for the good Father to get some rest now. I’ve brought another dose of that medicine I gave you earlier, Father.”
“Ah, thank you, my son! Though I will perhaps try to do without tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”
“We’ll see how you are in the mornin’.”
Jack submitted to a fierce hug from his little son, kissed him, and then said, “Up, up!” and the trio rose to say goodnight.
Harry said, “Our thanks for the stories, Father. You are a man of many parts!”
“Yes, it is so,” said the priest, a little sadness in his voice, “and prevents me from attaining the single-hearted joy of the true follower of St. Francis. Still, we live in hope.”
“We do indeed,” agreed Jack. “Take good care of him, Gibbs.”
“Only the best for the sainted padre, Jack.”
Jack and Harry took their little son off to put him to bed, but were relieved of this duty by Owens who ran across them as he emerged from the hold from whence conversation and music could still be heard.
“You go on, Captain,” said Owens, picking up the little boy and bouncing him a bit. “It’s been a long day for all of us. Got the foremast mended, though, eh?”
“That we did,” agreed Jack, “though it was little thanks to me, having been waylaid by the imperious demands of a spoiled wench after lunch.”
Harry kicked his ankle slightly, blushing. “You’d best speak circumspectly about said wench, or she is like to make further, more uncomfortable demands of you.”
“Oooh, promise?” grinned Jack, and tucking her hand in his arm, towed her off, saying merrily, “G’night, Tom! Sleep tight laddie.”
“G’night, Mama! G’night, Da!” Tom called after them, then shrieked with laughter as Owens tickled him, and tossed him across his shoulder to tote him off to their cabin.
On to Chapter Four
To Harry’s relief, it seemed that when the priest had said he was not alone on the island, he had meant that his ever-faithful companion in adversity had been God. Good tidings, indeed, but she and Anatole and the injured priest endured nearly an hour of waiting before further relief arrived, in the form of little Tom returning with Jack and two others. The rescuers finally emerged from the forest and walked quickly along the shore toward the trio by the stream.
Harry excused herself, and waded back across to meet the rescue party. Tom sped toward her, yelling, “Mama! I’ve brought Da for you!”
Harry smiled, “So you have, you clever boy!”
“I’ll go see them, shall I?” Tom said, rushing past.
“Be careful crossing the stream!” Harry turned to Jack, who had a crooked smile on his face as he looked at her. She said, “Don’t tell me! I look the veriest hoyden!” and held out her hand.
“Took the words right out o’ me mouth,” said Jack, taking the hand and kissing it, then tucking it in his arm as they followed in Tom’s wake. “Should’ve left the hat on, love: your nose is turnin’ pink. Who’s our new friend?”
“His name is Father Taddeo Angelini, and he is Italian, and a Franciscan priest. Oh, Jack, he has been through a dreadful ordeal! I wonder he is still alive!”
“So Owens said. I’ve sent him for Gibbs and Bowers, and things to make a stretcher so we can take him back to the ship.”
They crossed the stream, and the priest turned his head toward them as they approached.
Harry said, “Father, this is my husband, Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl, and there are two other men, with him, Mr. O’Brien and Mr. Matelot, and Michael Owens will return presently with more help!”
The priest smiled serenely. “I thank the good God, who has sent you, Captain.”
Jack took the hand that was held out to him. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Father. You’ve been here a week?”
“No, no! Five days only, I think, though the first two are a little unclear to me now.”
“And your ankle’s broken? May I look?”
“Tom!” said Harry, “Come away so your father can see.” Tom stood up from where he’d been crouched by the priest and she took her son’s hand and led him aside.
Jack took some time assessing the priest’s injuries, carefully examining the ankle, though he left the eyes alone for the moment, and questioning the man regarding his tormentors. To Jack’s surprise, Father Taddeo was very forthcoming.
“It was a Spaniard, Don Rodrigo de Esparza, who is now Viceroy of Santiago. I was sent to retrieve a great treasure from him, which he took from us when he came to visit us in Assisi-for you must know that our order has the good fortune to make its home there.”
“Took it from you? D’you mean he stole it?” Jack asked.
“It appears so, though we did not like to think it of him. But when I finally found him, and asked him to return it, he was very much opposed to the idea, as you can see.”
‘A master of understatement, ain’t you, Padre?” said Jack, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “You just found him and asked him for it?” Such plain dealing was quite foreign to Jack’s nature, and he shook his head in disbelief.
“Why yes, Captain. You may wonder at this, but we make every effort to believe good of our fellow men, until we are proven wrong. Unfortunately, the proof in this case nearly led to the failure of my quest. But now you and your charming lady have come, and all will be well.”
“Will it?” said Jack. “And just what is this great treasure, then?”
“Why the chalice of our beloved patron, of course! The greatest heirloom of our order. Indeed, many miracles are attributed to it, the cup that the saint held in his own tender hands. It was left to us, his followers, and we have done great good with it these many years. It was not meant to be locked away in a jewel-crusted case, saved for the eyes of a few, as Esparza has done. God, in His wisdom has set this trial before us, and now he has sent you and your beautiful wife to help us.”
Jack’s brows had risen at the words ‘chalice’ and ‘jewel-crusted case’, but he said only, “Aye, well, that’s as may be. It’s early days to be talking of quests and adventures involving Spaniards who appear to be true children of the Inquisition. First we’ll get you back to the ship and see if we can set this ankle, and do anything to ease your other hurts.”
“I thank you, most sincerely, Captain. God is good.”
“That He is,” Jack agreed, amiably, getting up. He went over to where Harry was standing, alone as their son was now crouched at the edge of the stream, investigating the small fishes that darted about. Jack said to her, surreptitiously, “Mad as a Bedlamite, confronting a Spanish Don outright over such a thing!”
“Or innocent as a lamb?” Harry suggested.
“Maybe. Just as detrimental to one’s health, either one. Here comes Owens and the others.”
Tom looked up at these words and saw the remainder of the rescue party coming onto the beach. Dispensing with the formality of parental permission, he jumped to his feet, and splashed across the little stream to run and meet them, yelling, “Owens! Father Taddeo’s on a quest for treasure and we’re going to help him!”
“Oh, Lord,” Jack said, shaking his head.
“Out of the mouths of babes?” smiled his wife.
“Humph,” was the thoughtful reply.
* * *
“Ah, Madame!” said Amelie, chiding even as she attended her mistress, “You should be more careful to leave your hat on when you are exposed to the sun. It is so very damaging to the complexion. At court they would think you a peasant, with this golden cheek and pink nose.”
Harry sighed, wrinkling said nose as Amelie daubed it with rose-scented cream. “I daresay it will peel, and Weatherby will be appalled. But indeed that hat is most uncomfortable-the straw sticks me!”
“I will try to fix it as soon as you are dressed,” Amelie assured Harry, smiling.
But a few minutes later, when Harry was clean and cool and dressed in a serviceable gown of pale blue, Anatole and Louise came knocking and entered with a light luncheon and tea.
“Alphonse continues to aid the so skillful Mr. Gibbs in his role as surgeon,” Louise told her sister and her mistress, setting out the plates. “The poor priest was hurt even more than we knew: there are stripes on his back from a flogging he was given, before his eyes were damaged.”
“Oh, no!” Harry exclaimed, her appetite, usually excellent when presented with evidence of the couple’s skill, quite deserting her.
Jack had told her once, long ago, the tale of how he’d acquired the many stripes that adorned his own back, and though he’d seemed to make light of it she’d known him well enough by then to realize it had been quite the hardest thing he’d ever endured in a life fraught with injurious adventure. “I managed the flogging well enough-not a peep out o’ me, gi’ you me word, an’ then I passed out after a while, thank God. But then later, havin’ to lay still on that cot for all that time: days and days! I thought I’d go mad of boredom.”
“Not to mention the pain,” Harry had said tartly, quite horrified.
“Oh, aye. There is that. But at least you know you’re alive, eh? Now don’t look like that!” he’d added, severely, seeing how pale she’d become. “’Twas a long time ago, Harry. You were the one that wanted to know! Next time you ask I’ll keep me mouth shut. Nosy chit pretendin’ you ain’t squeamish as…”
“Shut up!” she’d snapped, consumed with sudden anger and love, and she pushed him down and fastened her mouth to his to enforce her words. There had followed an intense interlude that made the terrible images he’d painted fade away, but later they’d returned, of course, and they had lingered in the back of her mind, as such things will, during their years together, only to be prodded to the fore at this present.
But Anatole said, “The swim to shore cleansed the cuts, and they look to be healing well. As for the ankle, Monsieur Gibbs thinks that will be well also: he and Alphonse have set it and bandaged it. It is the poor eyes they will examine now.”
“H-how was the ankle broken?” Harry asked, hesitantly.
Anatole gave her a penetrating look and frowned. “But no, madame. There is no need to think about it. Eat now! A little of this chicken, hein? Or this fruit?”
Harry consented to having a slice of chicken placed on her plate, which she proceeded to toy with between sips of sweetened tea. And then Jack’s footsteps were heard in the passage and she looked up hopefully.
He came in and grinned at the company. “Havin’ a spot o’ lunch, then?”
“Sit down, Capitaine!” Anatole said, happily. “Perhaps you can persuade Madame to eat a little, too.”
Jack frowned at Harry, then said to Louise and Anatole, “Off ‘er feed, is she? I suppose you’ve been goin’ on about the Padre’s hurts, and you shouldn’t: she’s a great deal of sensibility when it comes to violence, hence her long and happy marriage to yours truly.” His lips twitched against a grin, seeing Harry bristle with annoyance.
“I am not squeamish!” she stated, then amended this by adding, “Unless it is someone I care for. To think of that poor, gentle man used in such a way!”
“Don’t think of it,” recommended her husband, with an edge to his voice. “Starvin’ yourself won’t change anything. He’s in good hands now, and we’ll take him to Port Royal where there are even better doctors. You’ll be pleased to know whoever did his eyes botched the job considerably: they were cut, but he can still see some light out of one. They’re bandaged, and the ankle’s set and he’s laid down to sleep for a bit. We’ll go visit him, later. Now have a bite to eat.”
Harry sighed, and seeing the sense of the command, obeyed, though with rather less than her usual enthusiasm. The meal devolved into an episode of give and take between them, of bits and bites savory and sweet, interspersed with fond coaxing and scolding. Anatole and Louise smiled, and Amelie shook her head and the three finally excused themselves, shutting the door behind them and leaving the Captain and his wife alone to finish the one repast and to, perhaps, embark on another.
* * *
The priest had been given efficacious medication derived from the fruit of the poppy, and had slept all afternoon and into the evening on a cot in an area that had been draped off to serve as a makeshift infirmary. However, after the dinner hour, Jack took Harry down to see the man, and she saw with relief that Father Taddeo looked as serene as ever, sleepily holding court with several members of the crew sitting near to listen to tales of the man’s experiences. The priest’s injured eyes were now covered with bindings, but he perked up as they came in.
“It is the Captain and his beautiful wife, no?”
“Yes,” Harry chuckled, adding chidingly as she came to crouch beside the cot, “though you cannot know that I am beautiful, sir, and I therefore must accuse you of groundless flattery.”
“But no, signora! I spoke of inner beauty-though I have heard a word or two of these things from certain of the crew, and of your husband, who is said to share these traits.”
“Have you now?” Jack said, not particularly pleased. The men who’d been listening to the priest’s tales rose abruptly and excused themselves.
Father Taddeo said, “I assure you, they spoke only with the greatest respect, Captain.”
Jack sat down on the stool next to the cot, and Harry looked up at him, eyes twinkling as she replied to the priest, “We are quite sure of it, Father. They are good men, all.”
“They’re pirates, Father,” Jack said, “Did you gather that from their words as well?”
“Oh, si, the excellent signores Gibbs and Alphonse spoke of this and many other things, while they tended my hurts earlier, in an effort to distract me from discomfort, which I must admit was considerable. But you are an English privateer, no?”
“Aye, that’s true. For the moment.”
“It’s been true for nearly seven years, now,” Harry pointed out, frowning, “But even before that my husband was the best of men though he was indeed a pirate captain.”
Jack said, in a gentler tone, “I don’t want him under any illusions as to our business, Harry.”
But the priest said, “No, Captain, you may think me too trusting, but I assure you I do know the world, and more than a little. I had no reason to suspect that Esparza was the villain he is when I began my quest, for he had appeared to us as a pious man, who only wished us well. We were mistaken in that, but I do not think I am mistaken in you, though I have known you and your company but a day.”
“As it happens you’re not,” agreed Jack, “but I doubt God would agree to me having much purity of soul to speak of.”
Father Taddeo chuckled. “My son, that is for the good God to determine. We are all of us sinners. I myself was not always a priest, you know, and the way of St. Francis, which calls for obedience, poverty, and chastity, is not an always an easy one. But I do the best I can, and for the rest I rely on the mercy of God, which is all any of us can do, in truth.”
This was so very much in opposition to the theologies expounded from the pulpit whenever Jack had found himself in the unavoidable position of having to attend a church of any denomination that he found himself exchanging a wondering look with Harry (who was nearly as ambivalent about religious practice as he was himself and looked back at him now with raised brows) and saying to the priest, “I daresay you’re right, Padre, though I never thought to hear a priest say so. But tell me: what were you then, in your youth?”
“Ah, the son of a wealthy merchant, indeed! I had every worldly pleasure to hand, for many years, and a mother and a nurse who indulged me endlessly, to my soul’s detriment. If you will both sit I will tell you a tale or two, of those days and of the change of heart that brought me to the priesthood and thence to this adventure of ours.”
Jack started to get up, so that Harry could take the single stool available, but she shook her head, eyes crinkling mischieviously, and put a finger to her lips as she stood. He grinned and drew her close as she came and sat on his knee, placed a silent kiss on her cheek, and turned back to the priest. “We’re all ears, Padre. Tell away!”
Father Taddeo smiled benignly.
* * *
It was some time later when Gibbs came in, accompanied by little Tom.
“There you are!” said Harry, “I was wondering if Owens had put you to bed without bringing you to us for a kiss goodnight!”
“I want to sit on Da too!” said Tom, and proceeded to climb up on his father’s vacant knee, oblivious to his mother’s blush and his father’s chuckle at being caught out.
Gibbs grinned and said, “Time for the good Father to get some rest now. I’ve brought another dose of that medicine I gave you earlier, Father.”
“Ah, thank you, my son! Though I will perhaps try to do without tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”
“We’ll see how you are in the mornin’.”
Jack submitted to a fierce hug from his little son, kissed him, and then said, “Up, up!” and the trio rose to say goodnight.
Harry said, “Our thanks for the stories, Father. You are a man of many parts!”
“Yes, it is so,” said the priest, a little sadness in his voice, “and prevents me from attaining the single-hearted joy of the true follower of St. Francis. Still, we live in hope.”
“We do indeed,” agreed Jack. “Take good care of him, Gibbs.”
“Only the best for the sainted padre, Jack.”
Jack and Harry took their little son off to put him to bed, but were relieved of this duty by Owens who ran across them as he emerged from the hold from whence conversation and music could still be heard.
“You go on, Captain,” said Owens, picking up the little boy and bouncing him a bit. “It’s been a long day for all of us. Got the foremast mended, though, eh?”
“That we did,” agreed Jack, “though it was little thanks to me, having been waylaid by the imperious demands of a spoiled wench after lunch.”
Harry kicked his ankle slightly, blushing. “You’d best speak circumspectly about said wench, or she is like to make further, more uncomfortable demands of you.”
“Oooh, promise?” grinned Jack, and tucking her hand in his arm, towed her off, saying merrily, “G’night, Tom! Sleep tight laddie.”
“G’night, Mama! G’night, Da!” Tom called after them, then shrieked with laughter as Owens tickled him, and tossed him across his shoulder to tote him off to their cabin.
On to Chapter Four