Salvage

“How is it we always manage to draw this same straw every year?” Asked Jack, sitting on the couch across from where Hector sat on the other couch, each of them lazily connecting ornaments to tree hooks and preparing to “finish up the tree” as Elizabeth liked to call it, always pointing out to them where the bare spots were, where some ornaments should be moved around, to achieve the most aesthetic presentation of a Christmas Tree possible.

“Me guess is because we’re always daft enough be sitting here watching football just about the time Elizabeth notices the tree ‘needs something.’” Hector dropped the ornament he held back into the carton and slumped against the cushions. Finishing up the tree was such a tedious and thankless task, for Elizabeth was never happy with it and always found “one more thing” time and time again. He didn’t have the patience for it now. Two days ago Quinsy had almost told him something of great importance, but veered away at the last moment. Hector had given his word to be good about it, but his resolve was crumbling, and he was growing more and more suspicious of this news. He was past wanting to know what was happening, he needed to know!

“Ah, you’re onto something, Hector,” said Jack, reaching for more ornament hooks. “She lures us in with ESPN! Treacherous woman, your wife!”

“Peanut brittle!” Elizabeth announced coming out of the galley, smiling gaily and proudly as she set the plate down on the table between Jack and Hector. She stood only for a moment to look at the huge White Pine across from the coffee table. “Oh it’s definitely coming together now!” She smiled, wiping her hands on her apron, but not lingering, for she had much baking still going on in the galley. “But don’t forget to do around the bottom with the non-breakable ornaments so that when Jack scampers passed wagging his tail, he won’t ruin anything.”

“I’ll do my level best to keep myself under control this year, Lizzie!” Jack simpered as she turned and strode back into the galley.

“Oh, Jack,” she sighed laughing from the galley. “Promises, promises!”

And once again it was only Hector, Jack, and a tree that would never truly get there, alone in the living room, and it seemed they were all staring at the plate on the table.

“Peanut brittle.” Said Hector, and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” replied Jack, staring down the toffee shingles. “What do we do with it this year?”

It had taken a few centuries, but Elizabeth had come into her own in a kitchen, to the point that the family had finally begun to look forward to Christmas Dinner. Her peanut brittle however was legendary in it atrociousness. The Christmas before Hector had distracted Elizabeth while Jack filled his pockets with it and ran up onto the deck with it and tossed it overboard. But by the time Hector was once again in the living room, performing their usual task of finishing up the tree, Jack returned to tell him, “You’re not going to believe this, mate! For as awful and as hard and heavy and unbreakable as that lot is, it floats!” That left dumping it overboard out of the question, for the stuff had floated in the harbor around The Pride for days until a current finally carried it out to the bay, and then perhaps to the sea, where Hector and Jack wouldn’t be surprised to again encounter it one day.

“It’s not her fault, really,” said Jack, taking a piece of the candy and banging it on the table, just to test its rock hard consistency. “I mean, what can you truly expect when a welder makes peanut brittle?”

“This is the last thing I can bloody deal with,” groaned Hector, pushing the plate of teeth breaking confections down the table.

At that Jack grew a bit tense, he’d thought he’d been sensing something from Hector, and now he knew he’d been right. “You have seemed a bit…uptight lately…” dare he say anything more than that? Dare he fish to find out if Elizabeth had told him Quinsy’s secret? “Something wrong?”

Hector grimaced. “Don’t ask me that. All I’m told is that nothing is wrong, but that’s all anyone ever wants to tell me.”

“Ah,” so Hector didn’t know, well, he knew there was news, but not what it was. Jack relaxed again. “I wouldn’t fret over it then, if it’s not bad. It’s Christmas after all!” He smiled.

“Aye, it is that.” Hector sighed and rose to his feet, walking towards the bar in the corner. “And I be in need of some cheer to take the edge off. Drambuie, Jack?”

Jack sat up straight on the couch as if at attention. “Absolutely! Capital idea!”

“Here yeh go, then.” Hector handed Jack a glass full of the honeyed liquor, but kept the bottle, and only the bottle, for himself.

“Merry Christmas, then!” Jack smiled, and clinked his glass to Hector’s bottle, both of them taking a generous swallow and groaning pleasantly as the liquor burned down their throats and through the rest of them. “Wonderful stuff that! The official drink of The Pride!”

“Aye,” Hector managed to chortle as he sat back against the couch, and closed his eyes, picturing The Pride the way she’d looked in 1943.

It was November of 1943, in The Gilbert Islands of the western central Pacific Ocean that Hector was disturbed from his charts by a knock on his cabin door. He wasn’t surprised to see Jack enter after permission had been given, and he carried with him some folded papers, what looked to be a calendar and bottle of Drambuie, which he sat down upon Hector’s charts.

“Lieutenant Sparrow,” began Hector, moving the bottle aside and going back to his work. “May I remind you that consumption of alcohol is not permitted aboard U.S. Navy vessels, and as Captain, I intend to run a tight ship.”

Jack removed his hat and ran his hand through his short, nicely groomed hair as if he still wasn’t used to it, and probably wasn’t, then pulled a chair up to the other side of Hector’s desk,. “Of course, Captain, but may I inform you that you’ll be thanking me for the bottle shortly.”

Hector looked up at him again tiredly. “Jack, we’re in the middle of quite a tense campaign, now off with yeh and yer bottle, before I confiscate it.”

But Jack was staunch. “You’re going to want to see this, mate! Trust me!”

Hector sighed and dropped his pencil. “Alright then, is it from Admiral Nimitz?”

Jack shook his head, “No, this is from much higher up in the chain of command.”

Hector suddenly jolted to attention. “President Roosevelt, then?”

Jack laughed, un-tucking the folded papers he held and opening them as he laid them on Hector’s desk. “No, higher than him even.” He said smoothing out the picture.

Hector looked down, and immediately was furious that Jack had interrupted his work at the start of such an important campaign to show him the latest pin-up girl art to hang over the enlisted men’s bunks; a blonde secretary, struggling to heave a new bottle into place on the office water cooler, not noticing of course that in her effort to push the big, heavy bottle onto the stand with her thigh, she’d caught her skirt beneath it, and now her stocking, garters and lovely legs were on full display. He was just about to rip into Jack for his foolishness, when Hector again glanced at the girl in the picture…blond hair, lovely legs, trim body, the shape of her face…Elizabeth! Elizabeth was home, in Cape Cod, with Quinsy who had just grown into a teenager, and though Hector and his wife wrote often, and stayed in touch any other way they possibly could, Elizabeth never once mentioned that she’d become a pin up! She’d spoken only of how she did her best to boost troop moral; by that Hector had assumed she’d joined the USO, not this! The blood drained from Hector’s face, and he quickly grabbed the bottle of Drambuie Jack had brought, yanked the top off and took a long swig.

“Told you so!” Jack half smiled, and ever since then, one of them was always sure to have an emergency supply of Drambuie on board The Pride.

It was much easier to laugh about it now since it was decades ago, and it also helped that a good three quarters of this current bottle of Drambuie was gone too, but Hector did laugh, remembering Elizabeth’s pin up pictures with something burning through him stronger than ordinary fondness. He sighed, feeling so much more relaxed. “I did marry a beautiful woman, Jack.” He said, picked up an ornament as he reclined on the couch, and then tossed the delicate glass ball at the tree, both he and Jack applauding quietly when the hook stuck to a random branch.

“We should have thought of this method years ago, mate!” Jack winged an ornament onto the tree himself, the hook catching on a branch near the top.

“Good shot!” Congratulated Hector, and took another swallow of Drambuie from the bottle. They’d been reminiscing about the war and The Pride and pin ups for over an hour now, getting pleasantly drunk as they threw ornaments onto the tree, one after the other, not caring where they landed, only that they stuck, and they only had four more to go. It had been the most enjoyable time finishing up the tree ever, but footsteps from the kitchen threatened to end it.

“How is it going?” Elizabeth asked as she entered the living room, wiping her hands on her apron, but stopping immediately and staring at the haphazardly decorated tree. “What have the two of you been doing, exactly?”

Hector said nothing, just held up the now empty bottle of Drambuie.

“Oh, well that’s just lovely!” She sighed, yanking the bottle from his hand and holding it up. “And you didn’t even save me any!”

Hector reached up, catching her hand and pulling her down to his face, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. “I’m afraid that’s all yeh get.”

“And the peanut brittle is gone as well, I see.” She sighed, coming around the couch and sitting on the very corner of it where Hector’s feet were.

Hector gave Jack a surprised look, but Jack looked back at him the same way. What had become of the peanut brittle? Even the plate was missing. But, a few soft snores from the floor told all, for there lay the other Jack, sound asleep, a plate under his black and white head, and hard a nails toffee bits stuck to his muzzle.

“Oh no,” groaned Jack from the couch he lay upon all through the Drambuie and decorating, staring at the bull terrier mix. “Do you think he’ll live?”

“And what is that supposed to mean, Jack?” Elizabeth asked sharply.

“Nothing, luv!” He smiled at her, sitting up quickly…too quickly, had to take a moment before standing. “Why don’t I go up to Tia’s and get us another bottle, eh?”

“Capital idea, Lieutenant Sparrow!” Replied Hector, who had the sense to remain reclined.

“Captain Sparrow, mate!” Jack corrected as he got to his feet, wobbling though he did. “The Pride’s not a battleship anymore, we’re not fighting a war, dreadlocks are back in fashion, and I’m long since out of the navy!” He smiled, then disappeared up the stairs.

“So,” Elizabeth began, moving up the couch, closer to Hector’s face and running her hands over his chest as she did. “This isn’t like you to get drunk on the couch, this thing about Quinsy’s news must truly be eating at you?”

“Do yeh truly believe so?” Hector asked and rolled his eyes, but wished he hadn’t, for it made him so dizzy. “And I not be drunk. I understand contemporary language to refer to this as a ‘buzz.’”

Elizabeth laughed. “Oh yes, you seem very very buzzed!”

“Can’t take it anymore, Lizabeth.” Hector moaned to her, now hiding his eyes beneath the bend of his elbow. “What isn’t she telling me? Why can’t I know?”

“Oh, Hector,” there was something so sweet about seeing him so torn up like this, over something like this. “I’m sorry it’s been such torture, but she will tell you, soon! I promise!”

“Yeh could tell me, she already told yeh, yeh know everything!”

“Well, I don’t exactly know everything,” Elizabeth lay her head against his chest and Hector’s arm closed around her. She wished she could tell him, but she’d promised Quinsy. “And it’s not my place to tell you, I’m sorry!”

Hector just moaned and covered his face with both his hands, sighing forlornly.

Elizabeth shook her head; if only her hands weren’t tied, but she wouldn’t betray her daughter’s trust. But Hector, she couldn’t let him go on like this. He did deserve a reward for being so good for so long. And, what she was about to say to him wasn’t entirely untrue. She smiled, slowly climbing above him, laughing when he uncovered one eye, and only one eye, to watch her. “You know, sometimes when you are a bit ‘buzzed,’ like now, it really turns me on!”

Hector uncovered his face and cocked one eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth purred, leaning down to brush his lips with hers, one of her hands sliding beneath his shirt and plowing through his chest hair towards his nipple. “Let’s do it!”

Hector grinned, perhaps things weren’t so bad after all! She wasn’t teasing though was she? Because she was angry about how the decorating had been finished? “What about the tree?”

Elizabeth laughed devilishly and leaned more forward upon him, positioning her hips squarely over his. “Oh, anywhere you want, Hector!”

He laughed smugly, his own hand now traveling beneath the tail of her shirt to undo her bra as they kissed, his body not so buzzed that it wasn’t responding to hers, though he could also feel that Elizabeth would have to do most of the work this time around. Nothing wrong with having a beautiful woman above him who knew how to fuck him though! Hector groaned with anticipation, and felt Elizabeth’s hands slide down to his waist and begin to undo his belt, but just then there were footsteps at the top of the stairs again. Jack, they’d forgotten he’d gone to get another bottle…damn it!

“Hey mom and patriarch! I’m home!”

Not Jack’s voice! Brendan! Elizabeth and Hector quickly scrambled apart, Hector flashing his wife a disgusted look as their middle son’s footsteps grew closer to the living room. “It’s like he knows!” Hector hissed to Elizabeth. “Whenever he’s around, he’s always interrupting!”

“Hector, shhh!” Answered Elizabeth, glad that at least this time Brendan had chosen to announce his presence from the top of the stairs. “Down here, Brendan! So glad you’re home!”

And now Brendan stood at the bottom of the steps with his light brown hair tied back, beard shorter, but just as scraggly as his father’s was often said to have been in the past, a duffle bag on his back and dashing smile on his face as Elizabeth ran to him, Jack coming down the steps behind him.

“Look who I found when I went to get that bottle, everyone!” Jack announced, slinging his arm around Brendan’s shoulders. “Now it’s Christmas!”

* * * * * * *

“So,” they’d all been talking for over an hour now, and so far no issues had arisen between Hector and his middle son, but Hector’s voice never did quite make it out of the grumbling category. “Just how much money did yeh make with these codfish yeh fished for so bleedin’ long?”

Brendan scratched his head. “Around thirty-five grand, dad. Cod doesn’t pay anywhere near as well as what crab does, but it still pays.”

“Thirty-five thousand?” Hector jeered. “And for that yeh took yer time joining the family?”

“I wasn’t fishing to fill my pockets, dad,” Brendan explained calmly, as laid back as he’d been when under his father’s scrutiny for so many decades now. “I had to go fishing for my crew, they needed the money from cod this year.” Brendan looked towards his mother, offering her an explanation he knew his father would only dismiss. “If you think gasoline is high here, you should look at the price in Alaska and the west coast; and a lot of my guys who live in colder climates wanted to make sure they’d be able to pay the family’s heating bill.”

Elizabeth nodded, and smiled, it was a little thing, but it made her proud to know that Brendan took such situations into consideration where his crew was concerned. “I’m sure they appreciate it, Brendan.”

“I do what I can, they’re hard working men, every one of them, I couldn’t ask for a better crew!” Brendan reached for the glass of Drambuie as Jack poured it for him.

“So, how was the weather up there this year?” Asked Jack, sipping his own Drambuie, again.

“Cold,” Brendan laughed. “But the really bad weather won’t be until after Christmas, Snow Crab season! That’s some killer weather! That’s when you get the most reports of men going overboard and boats going down.”

Hector sighed. “And yet yeh go rushing nose end into it every year?” He asked haughtily. “Are yeh ever going to have any sense, boy?”

“Hector!” Elizabeth loudly objected, grabbing his hand as if she had to stop him from going somewhere. “Keep in mind you have been drinking!” She hissed into his ear.

“It’s okay, mom, let him bellow if he likes.” Sighed Brendan. “Might as well get this trip home started in traditional fashion.”

“Your father’s sorry, Brendan,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head at Hector. “He’s just been kinda keyed up these past few days.”

“When I be sorry, I’ll say so meself.” Replied Hector, looking above Elizabeth and over at Brendan.

“Yeah, dad, I know how it works, we’ve done this before.” Brendan sunk lower into the couch beside Jack and sighed heavily. He’d known this was coming, it always did, best just to ignore it. He turned to Jack. “So, The Pearl, how’s she looking?”

“Not as good or as bad as she could,” Said Jack, rubbing his goatee. “Salinity here has kept her fairly well preserved.”

“And the shipworms don’t appear to have treated themselves very much to her hull or decks.” Added Elizabeth. “We won’t really know until she’s on the surface, and we see how quickly she starts decomposing in the open air.”

“Got over one thousand gallons of Polyethylene glycol ready and waiting to be sprayed on her as soon as the first of her spars breaks the surface, though.” Continued Jack, holding up his crossed fingers to the room.

Brendan nodded hopefully. “How much longer until she’s afloat do you think?”

Hector frowned. “Might have been so now, if we’d had another hand to get her squared.”

“Dad!” Brendan suddenly jolted forward, but caught himself and sat back again, taking a deep breath. How did he always walk into these things? “Fine, dad, go ahead. Yeah, it’s my fault. I was fishing crabs and cod, instead of being here to help dig tunnels in the seabed beneath The Pearl, so the fact that she’s still down there is my fault. Yeah, if you need that to be my fault, so be it. And the hurricane, I did that too. It’s my fault, every single thing, okay?” Brendan rolled his brown eyes and threw back all the Drambuie in his glass. “I’m sure it’s my fault that she’s been down there in the mud for the last two hundred and twenty some years to begin with, anyway, isn’t it?”

At that Hector jolted forward, yanking his hand free of Elizabeth’s and standing up. “I didn’t say that, boy! Don’t make me out to be blaming all me ills on yeh!”

“Hector!” Elizabeth stood up as well, trying to get his attention, but Brendan didn’t help her cause any.

“Of course not, dad!” Brendan half laughed. “You don’t blame everything on me, just most everything!”

“Boy!” Hector growled and leaned over him, Elizabeth doing her best to get in front of him, Jack even getting to his feet to help her.

“Um, Brendan,” Said Jack quietly. “Perhaps another bottle? From Tia’s? Go up and fetch it, will you?”

“Yeah, alright,” sighed Brendan in exasperation as he got to his feet, turning to head for the stairs, but before he walked off turned back to his parents, and Jack. “And I actually thought dad might be in a good mood this Christmas, what with Jack and Quinsy finally announcing their engagement!”

And suddenly the room went dead quiet, no one spoke, no one moved, no one breathed, but Jack could feel himself shriveling, as if lasers shot from the eyes of both Hector and Elizabeth and were burning him into nothingness. Jack quickly stepped closer to Brendan, glancing at Hector and Elizabeth and giving them a quick, nervous smile, but seeing only the harshest stares from their stone faces as they glowered at him in stunned silence.

“Oh great…” winced Brendan without breathing, standing as if frozen, but shifting his eyes towards Jack. “You and Quinn didn’t announce that yet, did you?”

Finally Jack moved, and quickly, pushing at Brendan’s shoulder and rushing him towards the stairs. “I’ll help you with that bottle, Brendan!” He said hurriedly, both of them now making a dash for the staircase. “So nice to have you home again!”