Port Royal

 Suzanna kneeled on the bed in her room at Will and Elizabeth’s, rocking. Normally a bright and sunny room decorated in violet and yellow with hints of leaf green, Suzanna loved it. It felt like sleeping in the garden, and there was a balcony where she could sit with her journals and ink and look out to the port and the ocean below musing and scribbling as the mood took her.

She saw none of the details now, none of the color. Only the black of the sky and the white caps that frothed in the grey sea. She was dressed again in Jack’s shirt, wrapped around her like a prayer shawl, everything that mattered to her now in its scent and feel against her skin. She had not asked anything of any deity since the day her mother died, and she turned her face away from that hope. But today she was on her literal knees, promising anything, if he would just come back to her.

********************
In the dazzling sunshine of that perfect Caribbean day, Will looked at Elizabeth in puzzlement. “What?”

Elizabeth couldn’t blame his mind for not being able to decipher what his ears had heard. “I said, Suzanna is proposing to make us rich beyond our wildest dreams!”

Will stared at her for along minute while it sunk in, “Well, at the risk of sounding ungrateful, why?”

Suzanna jumped in. “Simply put, it has to do with my bastard of a brother. My decision to abandon my old life to live on a notorious pirate ship is not exactly one that’s going to be accepted by the powers that be. He wants the money and he wants the titles and he’ll have no trouble getting the king to declare them forfeit by having me declared non compus mentis since clearly only a mad woman would have made this decision.”

“Aye, but you’re my mad woman...” said Jack, and Suzanna laughed.

“Yes, and quite happy about it, but be that as it may, it won’t wash. There is no doubt in my mind that if I leave things as they are, he’ll get it all and, far worse than that in my mind, come after us with a vengeance. I’ve never really cared about the money anyway, though I will confess it does come in handy, but most of all, I want to keep us safe.”

“I keep telling her that they’ve been trying to hang me for years without success, but she’s determined...”

“And I keep telling him that he’s never had people like this mad at him before. He may be able to outwit the commodore easily enough...”

Jack snorted as if that was hardly an accomplishment.

“...but if he sends six commodores and 12 ships after you, you may find it a rather different story. Besides, with everything I’ve had to deal with, it is just too irksome to think of that supercilious little twit ending up with everything just because he’s a man and can do whatever the hell he wants and I’m supposed to live my life in a guilded cage. If I were a man and this rich, they would find my decision ‘charmingly eccentric.’ That’s the difference between mad and eccentric you know—how much money you have. No. I am not willing to let that happen.” Jack could feel the tension creeping back into her, and he reached out for her hand.

“Suzanna, I don’t know very much about your life before I met you, but I can certainly understand why you wouldn’t want your brother to get everything because someone says you aren’t mentally competent to make a decision. I would say you are one of the sanest people I know,” Will offered.

“And that kind opinion, William, which is reciprocated most heartily, is a big part of the reason behind my decision.”

“Which has to do with making us rich.”

“Exactly, and not just rich...”

“Will,” Elizabeth grabbed his hand now, and the bit of color the rum had put back in her face appeared to drain away again “as Suzanna’s closest family member other than her brother, she wants to cede all her titles and a good part of her fortune to me to prevent Richard from taking them.”

“So you would become the Duchess of Lancaster and whatever else?” Elizabeth nodded and everyone was quiet for a very long moment. “Would you pass that rum, please?”

After a long drink and an even longer silence, Will asked, “So going on with this madness just a bit longer, would that make me a Duke or a duck or a Lord Falderal or whatever?”

“No,” explained Suzanna, thinking it might be easier on Elizabeth if she took that question. “That would only be the case if you were already of the nobility, and since you, though we may find you quite uncommon, are what would be considered a commoner, you wouldn’t be eligible for a title yourself.”

“Well, that’s a relief at least.”

“But you will still be a filthy rich commoner married to a woman titled in both England and France, so you may find there is not much difference in terms of the life you will lead.”

“Except everyone will think that’s why I married her—well if it comes to that, half of them already think I seduced her for her money and half for her beauty—and, either way, ruined her life because of it.”

“So which was it, then?” Suzanna teased him. Elizabeth was still too much in a state of shock to manage it.

Will looked to her with something between a grin and a grimace. “It was the bloody money that almost cost me getting better acquainted with the beauty. I didn’t think that someone in my station deserved her. I hate all that now, and you two have certainly blown the idea out of the water! Actually, Jack, that’s an interesting question. If you’d known about all Suzanna’s wealth and titles, do you think you would have felt at all intimidated?”

Jack grinned at him. “As to the titles, they didn’t intimidate me last time.” They all turned to look at him. “William, did I never tell you the story of the Spanish countess in Dominica?” They all stared even harder and Suzanna’s eyes narrow considerably. “Ah...well...a mere dalliance and clearly not the time...but to answer your question I think it is fair to say that from the moment she opened the door and propositioned me, even before she plied me with rum and spoke French, I was quite thoroughly captivated. Would have taken an anchor over the head to dissuade me, and I’m not sure even that would have done it...” Before she could say anything in response, he kissed her long and lovingly and so convincingly that she could not doubt it for a moment.

 “What were we talking about?” she asked dreamily when he finally released her, and she saw them all looking at her. “Oh, oh, well yes, we will come back to that later,” she said looking at Jack pointedly and then back to a now smiling Will and Elizabeth. “Obviously there’s a lot of planning to do and details to arrange, but maybe we might save all that for tomorrow when you’ve had a chance to digest it a bit. And speaking of digesting, isn’t it getting to be about time for dinner?”

Jack never ceased to be amazed at the single-mindedness of this woman when it came to her appetite. But then appetite was a quality much prized by a pirate, particularly when it applied all around.

********************

“Planning, planning, planning. Thought I was so clever, me and my bloody planning, moving the chess pieces where I wanted them, tie it all up in a bow…what an arrogant idiot.” Suzanna stood at the French doors, watching the harbor, the streets deserted as wind and rain howled down them like some great Cerberus guarding a hellish port that no one wanted any part of.

********************

Certainly a great variety of sounds had been heard emanating from Jack’s cabin in the months since Suzanna, Will, and Elizabeth had been on board. At various times it was the source of screams of ecstasy, the laughter of friends, the clashing of swords in play, off-key singing, bellowing orders, and moans of delight. But never before had it been the source of a knock-down, blow-out fight between two lovers. Anna Maria had the helm and every once in awhile she caught snippets of bellows and screeches, words like “stubborn” and “idiot” and “Rash! You are calling me rash?!” She thinks she prefers this to the usual distracting serenade in some ways, except for what it likely means for the captain’s mood tomorrow.

********************

Two nights later, anchored far enough off Port Royal to be out of sight but within striking distance, Suzanna is wearing the old shirt of Jack’s she tossed on, while circling about the room like a planet in orbit, grabbing her belongings scattered about the cabin and packing them into a large traveling chest. Jack is lying on the bed and watching her pack, extremely quiet. Unnervingly so.

Finally she can stand it no more and lets whatever is in her hands just drop to the floor. She moves over to the bed and sits down cross-legged facing him and he finally speaks.

“You know, luv, you might reconsider. I’d sure as hell be a lot happier, and I’ve an inkling you would as well.”

“I can’t Jack. You know that down deep, and you just don’t want to...” He takes her face in his hands and kisses her gently.

“No I don’t want to. I don’t want to go at all. Or I want to go and bring you with me and say the hell with it all and take our chances. Or I want to come with you and know you’re safe so if bloody Norrington or bloody Richard try anything they’ll have me to deal with. I wish I hadn’t given into temptation in Barbados and kept Norrington off my back and then I could stay with you in the open...”

“Jack Sparrow you are driving me mad! You are being purposefully obtuse. I know you understand the logic of this, and you are just refusing to admit it because you are like a little boy who wants his lolly right now and no amount of logical argument will make any impact! Even if you hadn’t thrown Norrington’s amnesty back in his face, you can’t be seen anywhere near me for the next few weeks. If it looks like there was any kind of coercion involved, then all of our efforts come to nothing. In fact, now that I think of it, it would be great if you could find an English ship to attack, just to prove you were somewhere else and in no way capable of kidnap or coercion. Our only hope in all this is if they believe I’ve signed everything to Elizabeth and gone with you of my own free will. If you are within 30 miles of Port Royal, they will never believe that. They won’t believe I’ve willingly given all this up to be the....the consort of a pirate.”

“I’m not sure I can entirely believe it, Suzanna,” he said very quietly.

“Is that what you’re really upset about?” she asked, it finally dawning on her what was going on. “Are you afraid that if we’re apart for a little while, I’ll change my mind?” she asked incredulously.

“No....well...I just don’t want to lose you. It took a very long time for me to find you, after all. And I do know you’re right; it is a good plan. I just hate it.”

“And I absolutely hate being right about it. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you while you’re gone.”

“How about for the rest of the evening, we worry about what you’re going to do with me while I’m still here?” He cut off any other protest with a kiss.

********************

They swept in the next evening under cover of darkness and deposited Suzanna, Will, and Elizabeth on a beach at the far end of town but within walking distance to where Will could obtain transportation. It was not an easy goodbye. Finally Jack could put things off no longer and had to admit he was endangering the whole venture by delaying.

There were no words really. They had had enough words, talked it all out. Now there was just an ache that threatened to rip them both in two. Their kiss said “you have to come back to me. You are mine and you know it” and “I will always come back. You are home and you know it.” She thought she heard the sound of something tearing as he finally let go to return to what comfort he could find in the Pearl.

********************

Neither Jack nor the Pearl nor any of his crew was finding much comfort tonight. From St. Lucia they had traveled north past Martinique to St. Kitts and then cut a straight line to Port Royal due west when the weather turned. Of course Jack had been watching and knew there was weather coming, but he was taking a gamble that they could outrun it. The storm, however, had a few aces in the hole that Jack didn’t know about, as a smaller hurricane coming from the southeast out of Barbados joined it, adding fuel and ferocity and a doubling of speed.

Anna Maria came to the helm. “We’re in trouble, aye?”

“Aye, but no time to dwell on it. We’re heading dead north for Puerto Rico. There’s a cove just on the eastern tip of the island that would be just what we need if we can make it in time.”

There was no need to discuss the fact that the chances of Jack being able to get them to Puerto Rico, let alone find that cove at all in a storm like the one that was bearing down on them, would be like finding a needle in a haystack. He knew it as well as she did. But the fact was that if the storm caught full force in the open ocean like they were now, the Pearl would be in pieces in no time.

********************

It had been a good link in terms of her preparations. Elizabeth’s inquiries amongst her friends had led them to the office of a barrister by the name of Algernon Abernathy. He was quite a tall man, well over six feet, and extremely thin, so much so that one couldn’t quite shake the impression that he was wearing someone else’s clothes. His stature, the pince nez glasses, and long thin nose all might lead one to the impression of a rather pinched and disagreeable personality. In fact, when Suzanna and Elizabeth first were ushered into his office by the clerk, Suzanna’s first thought was, “Oh I don’t know about this one,” but then he smiled. The transformation was astonishing—from sallow and dour to bright eyed and curious in one fell swoop. It seemed that in fact, Algernon Abernathy’s starved appearance stemmed not from a paucity of spirit but rather an abundance of his love for the law. He simply could not be bothered to take the time to eat when there was so much work to be done. And he loved doing it. Suzanna’s instincts told her he would do quite nicely. If there was one thing she appreciated, it was men of passion. Yes...well...and speaking of which...

When Mr. A. Abernathy, Esquire, first heard the titles that followed Suzanna’s name he was so taken aback that he was literally a hair’s breadth from falling right out of his chair. His expression then turned to apoplectic when he heard the reason for the duchess’s visit. She watched him carefully for his reactions as she unfolded her plan and thoughts about how it might work. She looked for any signs of disdain or disregard, but in fact she watched his face as his mind flew down the intricate pathways of legal machinations that would be required, and he was extremely pleased.

“It was a fair wind that blew you to my door, milady. I have recently thought that I must give real consideration to returning to London as there are simply too few puzzles to solve in these parts but now you have brought me a considerable challenge and for this I am eternally grateful. I shall get to work on things immediately and make a few inquiries. If you would call on me again here in 3 days time we can review what progress has been made.” And with that, they were, well, dismissed. She was further charmed by his lack of deference and attendance to the matter at hand and looked forward to the fact that he would obviously work with haste. Very, very good. She and Jack had now been apart for 8 days—somewhere between forever and an eternity.

The days were not too excruciating. Except for all the times she turned to tell him something and he wasn’t there. Except for all the little private jokes that ran through her mind at a comment someone else would make quite innocently. When Mr. Abernathy had remarked about her battle with her brother that the pen was, in fact, mightier than the sword, she could practically see Jack in front of her making his point that quite the opposite was true, and she was quite sure she flushed pink in the man’s office.

She and Elizabeth did have some fun together going to see the dressmaker, a lovely French woman named Jeanne who was intrigued by Suzanna’s sketches of the sort of thing she was looking for. Jack’s eyes were going to jump right out of his head, and she would be a lot more comfortable.

One night Elizabeth and Will even dragged her along to a soiree at the Governor’s mansion, and Suzanna capitulated to Elizabeth’s argument that it would fit in with her scheme to be seen in public and having amusing and proper conversations with all present. Good to see Elizabeth thinking that way, actually. She was going to need those skills in her new position.

********************

The nights, however, are another story. All those years of sleeping alone. Grateful for it at first, then just resigned to it, and now she felt empty. And hungry. And absolutely desolate at times. How could this have happened so quickly?

Two nights later, Will is woken by the sound of a shutter loose, banging against the house, and he gets up to fix it. He has to walk down the hall past Suzanna’s room and can’t miss hearing her sobs. For a fleeting moment he considers going to wake Elizabeth, but then chastises himself for his cowardice. What kind of friend was he? He knocks softly on the door and waits for a muffled “yes” before entering. Suzanna does her best to compose herself, but as soon as he asks, “Would it help to talk about it?,” the tears come again.

“It’s not just missing him, which is bad enough, but what if something happens? What if he doesn’t come back? I mean I know he loves me, but what if...I don’t know. It’s still the ocean, and he’s still a pirate. There are plenty of people who want to kill him, and when I’m with him, I can live with that. I mean it scares the hell out of me, but I’ve thought about it a lot and at least we would be together. But to sit and wait and not know where he is—it is driving me mad!”

“Suzanna, a lot of people have tried to get their hands on Jack, but you are the only one who has really succeeded in capturing him. All I can tell you is that when Jack really wants something, he is a force to be reckoned with. And he wants you like he’s never wanted anything else in his life. He’ll be back come hell or high water, I promise.” All told it was his manner that calmed her more so than any words. He seemed confident, and it was contagious.

********************

Three days later, Suzanna is upstairs when Elizabeth arrives and brimming with curiosity to announce that a package has been delivered for her. Who else could it be from but Jack?

Suzanna follows her into the entry hall and lying on the table is a well-wrapped box. Elizabeth steps back; as curious as she may be, she will give her a little privacy. As Suzanna begins to unwrap the layers of paper, a card drops from the packaging. She recognizes the scrolled writing immediately. She tears open the envelope but cannot bear to read it yet. What if it is bad news? Her fingers open the box and out spills myriad small balls of paper, the kind used to protect precious fragile contents. She slowly puts her fingers inside and draws out an exquisite bottle. It is fashioned in azure glass with white streaks of breaking waves curling up from the round base. It tapers into a long elegant neck and is fastened with a silver chain. The stopper is a green and silver seahorse, his tail curled like an unfurling fern. His head is bent and his eyes are gleaming emeralds.

She gently removes the stopper and the most tantalizing smell reaches her nostrils. It is the scent of the sea when standing on an island beach with tropical flowers wafting in the breeze. There is hibiscus and jasmine and ylang-ylang and some strange fragrant exotic fruit mixed in there like mangos and passion fruit but not quite. It is both fresh and floral and heavy and sensual all at once. She carefully replaces the little seahorse and opens the envelope with trembling hands to read the words within.

Well my lovely, I know you miss me. I miss you too. We were fortunate enough to encounter a nicely loaded merchant ship sailing out of Bristol just 2 nights ago and took possession with nary but a warning shot fired. I confess my heretofore nefarious profession is feeling rather too peaceful these days, but I am sure you will be happy to read that your orders were followed to the letter!

We are currently in St. Lucia, back under French rule again, and I took the opportunity to visit a place run by a lovely French woman the name of Rose.  I would have taken you to her during our last visit were it not for our little adventure with the British authorities, but of course that turned out rather well, did it not? She is a marvelous parfumier, and the seahorse bottle is French glass, a real antique with a story behind it. I’ll tell it to you when we’re back together again. Cost an arm and a leg, I’ll have you know, however hard I bartered, but it’s worth it for you.

Hope you like the perfume. That’s an original, now, for you only! Explained to her who you are and what you’re like and she mixed it up special, made it smell like I thought you would. Reminds me of your sweetness, your spice, your fruitfulness, and your sense of adventure with just a hint of the sea. Rose has named it “Isle de la Nuit Magique” (Island of the Magical Night). I’ve kept some here for myself and put it on my pillow. I want you to wear it while I’m away so I know what you smell like, so I can sink my head into the sheets here in my cabin and know I am smelling you. Then when I come back wear it, and I’ll draw in the scent of you until I am drunk and dizzy with it. Until then, Jack.

 Underneath his signature he had drawn a little sparrow flying across the face of the moon.

She took a deep breath, opened the bottle, and stroked some of the perfume onto her wrists and neck with the end of the seahorse stopper. Its fragrance was complicated and erotic and exciting. She felt dizzy as she thought of his body burrowing into that scent in his bed, in his cabin, tossing and turning with need. Forever. This was taking forever.

********************
After 2 more days, Mr. Abernathy sent word that all the paperwork has been completed and Elizabeth returned the messenger with a cordial invitation to dinner—maybe he can distract her! Which in fact he does, sharing tales of the legal intrigues of Jamaica, the interesting cases with which he’s been involved, just a hint of scandal here and there and the mechanics of a well-constructed argument. Suzanna really was quite diverted, and she slipped under the covers that night thinking she might actually sleep for a change. Then she changes her mind and gets up and pulls out the little bottle, letting the stopper run across her skin and fill her up with that scent. It was everywhere now, and feeling just a little more whole, she crawls back into bed and turns off the light. Had she known what was coming, sleep would have evaded her entirely.

It hit the next morning, on a Tuesday, market day in town normally but not today. When she woke, she realized immediately that something was off, but she could not have put her finger on it. There was light in the room, but a sickly yellow color rather than the blue sky and sunshine she was accustomed to. Then she heard banging and got dressed quickly and went to investigate. Will and the gardener had their sleeves rolled up, sweating profusely in the thick, sticky air, as they worked to board up all the windows of the house. As soon as he saw her, Will put down the hammer and drew her to sit down on the porch. The wind was already picking up quite markedly and the sea looked far less inviting than usual.

“What’s going on?” she asked, fear rising in her throat. It was in the very air itself as everyone moved with a sense of urgency and apprehension.

“A storm. A hurricane actually. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen one before, but they are a force to be reckoned with.” His words from the other morning came back to him, and he winced. “He’ll be okay. Maybe it won’t be a bad one and, besides, Jack has a lot of experience. It might just hold him up a little is all,” but she could hear the worry in his voice.

Suzanna looked at him for a long moment and it seemed as though they both made a decision that they would not indulge their panic. “I’ll go find Elizabeth. I imagine there are things to do.” She walked inside, her entire body feeling as though it was already underwater.

********************

Hell or high water. Hell or high water—had he really said that? Jesus, both hell and high water were on their way. Right now, he wishes he could give her the kind of reassurance he did the other night, but he knows if he tried the words would ring hollow—he could not believe them himself. Jack is unbelievably competent and knows every port, every reef, every trick in the book. But there has not been a storm like this in 25 years, and Will is having a very hard time imagining a happy ending. He’s not really sure any of them will survive it if Jack does not.

********************

She is screaming at him. His ship that loves him is screaming; her shrieks are deafening as he uses all his strength and skill to keep her on course. He can’t risk dropping canvas even though it means the wind may pull her over. The seas are up to 30 feet now and the waves will reach 80 before it is over. Their only hope lies in using the storm, using the speed of that wind to help them reach some shelter before the swells grow that high. And the Pearl has never moved so fast nor though such a stormy sea, not even that time off Guadeloupe when five of the crew was lost.

Jack could not say exactly what he believed in when it came to some sort of high power. Religion was a handy thing for a sailor; it gave you something to pray to when you needed to believe that you could get out of the mess you were in. As a pirate, Jack had seen too much wickedness to believe that some beneficent being would let it all go on. But he believed in Suzanna and damned if he would give up without a fight. “Hold on, my lovely. Hold together, lady, we can do this,” he whispered, and the wind stole the words off his lips.

********************

Will and Elizabeth came together to Suzanna’s room to bring her to the cellar. She had stood staring out the small chink in the boarded-up windows for as long as she could, but the shutters were rattling intensely and she could feel the air change around her. She didn’t even realize how loud the wind had gotten until Elizabeth had to yell over it to make herself heard.

They huddled in the root cellar: Will, Elizabeth, Suzanna, the gardener, two maids, the cook, 8 chickens, 2 goats, and a small brown milk cow. She had no idea anymore if it was morning or night; she couldn’t be sure, the sky had been dark too long. They huddled together in the small space breathing. No one spoke really, though she may have imagined she heard faint whispers of prayers. Unbelievably, the wind picked up, and the whole house seemed to shudder above them. Suzanna couldn’t shake the picture she had in her head of the whole house blowing over in one piece, like the top of a silver sugar bowl folded back, revealing all of them huddling together inside for the long fingers of the wind to pluck them out one by one like so many lumps soon to dissolve in the rain and the sea. It was an absurd image, and some part of her mind registered her hysteria as she sat thinking. Will held onto her but she couldn’t stop shaking no matter how she tried and the tears kept rolling down her face. How could he possibly survive this?

At some point, light became visible through the ceiling of the cellar. Real light this time. The first time it had happened, Suzanna had jumped up and tried to go out, but Will and Elizabeth had pulled her back, explaining about the eye of the storm. But this was real light and finally it was Elizabeth who had pushed back the trap door and pushed herself up. Elizabeth felt considerably older than she had when they went into the cellar and found it both disconcerting and comforting to know she could take charge of her cousin. Between her and Will, they got Suzanna into the house, and Elizabeth made some very strong sweet tea and dumped a very large shot of rum into Suzanna’s. She sat curled up in a very tiny corner of a very large sofa, steadily drinking but her eyes seemed to focus on nothing.

********************

Was it only 4 days ago that Will had told her about the hurricane coming? “It might just hold him up a little,” he had said. Even as she thought it, part of her felt guilty given the devastation she had witnessed over the past few days—people’s homes and livelihoods lost, stores and homes destroyed, family members disappeared without a trace. They had been working tirelessly helping to distribute food and materials and help wherever they could, until they collapsed at night. Suzanna felt about 10 years older than she had the night she had left the Pearl. She had done everything she could for the day. Will had finally taken the boards off the French doors to the balcony, and she stood outside a moment breathing in the fresh-washed air, the electric tang of the storm finally gone. As had become her nightly ritual before bed, she stripped off her clothes, bathed, and dressed in Jack’s shirt and the perfume. Despite all her worry, the gift of her physical labors was that she could finally sleep, and she sank into the pillows in the escape of oblivion.

********************
Jack stands just inside the window looking at her. She is fast asleep, covers kicked off, arm curled around a pillow. Drenched in moonlight, her face looks pale in contrast with the dark curls spilling all over the pillows. The shirt hides just enough of her to be even more tantalizing, and his breath hitches at the thought that now she is within touching distance. He has never wanted anything so much in his life and never been so grateful for the wanting.

********************
She is dreaming. Brilliant white moonlight on the water...the sound of the wind snapping in the sails...the smell of salt air. She is looking at the rise and fall of the waves and feeling the ship rock beneath her. It is so familiar. So right.

His arms come around her and pull her against him. She can feel all the hard planes of his body, and her head falls back as she pushes back against him and just breathes. She pulls one hand up to her mouth and runs her lips over his skin and just barely tastes the salt with her tongue.

Fingertips run across her face, over her eyelids, along her cheekbones and around her lips.

There is a moment.

A moment when all the senses—the smell of him, the feel of those fingers on her skin, the taste of salt, and the breathless whisper of her name—come together.

He is here and she is here and it is no longer the stuff of dreams but all real. Jack under her searching hands, Jack’s mouth insistent against hers, Jack’s words that it is done and they are back, and the sparrow holds the moon in its mouth.

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Chapter Fifteen