Apprentice To The Sorcerer

Jack elected not to make land. Thinking it too painful, I also stayed behind. Everyone else went in for extra supplies and a night of revelry. While my captain lounged about, I climbed rigging and checked for frays.

“Lei!”

I looked down to see Jack standing below.

“It’s time for target practice!”

I swung down directly in front of him. He staggered backward in a theatrical manner and I knew he felt playful this evening. Good. Playful Jack always entertained me.

“Picked up a barrel of stones,” he said. “Gibbs thought I’d finally let loose my moorings.”

I laughed easily. I could laugh in front of Jack whenever I wanted.

“Thing is, now that Brighton is safely back on land, we haven’t a proper target,” Jack mused aloud. “Ah well. We’ll jus’ hang one of cook’s pots.” He went to retrieve one, leaving me standing under the main mast. I hoped I didn’t damage the pan we used; cook didn’t like me very much at the moment. I’d bathed Jack in his stew pot and cooked a gangrenous leg with his best skillet. I resolved to use part of my money to buy him new cookware.

Jack came out with a very small pan. “Start with a small target and a big one is easier,” he said factually. He ran it up the rigging and tied the line off. “Let’s see how bad you are.”

Slightly miffed, I grabbed a stone and slung it at the pan. I missed by half again the width of an ale cask. Jack squinted at me. “Yer eyes workin’ right, lad?” he asked, serious.

“I can see just fine,” I answered through gritted teeth. “I just never learned to throw. I never had a reason to throw.”

“Don’t rupture yourself,” Jack replied, putting his hands up defensively. He dropped a hand to tug his pistol from his sash. “Let me see you shoot it.”

“The bullet might bounce off and hit us,” I protested, thinking of the damage a lead ball would do to a cook pan.

“Chances are slim,” Jack murmured. “Do it.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised Jack felt like taking the chance of a wild bullet. He took chances like a competitive gambler.

I raised his pistol and took my shot. The loud clang told I’d at least hit it. Jack brought the pan down. The very center had a hole in it. “Unusual,” he said. “You’ve no trouble with the pistol yet you can’t seem to aim without it.” He hoisted the pan aloft again. “I can’t really instruct you on how to improve; yer gonna have to stand here and throw rocks awhile.”

I threw rocks until the barrel stood only half full and darkness closed in around us. “More tomorrow,” Jack promised. “I think I might know how to approach you now.”

Rubbing my sore arm, I nodded in agreement. I could hear some of the men coming back, the slap of oars echoing off the water. Jack heard it too. He leaned over the side, his spyglass already moving to his eye. After a moment, a sigh escaped his lips. “Bloody boy,” he muttered. “What now?” Turning to me, he shook his head. “Feel free to break us up with a pistol me lad,” he said. “But don’t kill him. It isn’t his fault his brains float adrift.”

In the space of time it took me to silently panic, get control, and panic again, Will came aboard. He didn’t look at me twice. Spying Jack, he drew his sword and marched over to him. Jack didn’t make a protest as the point came to rest under his chin. Eyeing Will carefully, he put his hands behind his back and laced them there. “What brings you to the Pearl, lad?” he asked calmly.

“Colonel Brighton and Governor Swann,” he said. “You were cruel to Brighton and you gave my father a gift I’d like to know more about.” Will shifted on his feet. He looked angry enough to actually run Jack through. “Elizabeth must have sat for that portrait. It was too good to be drawn from memory. Even if it were, why were you looking at her that closely?”

“I can look all I want, lad,” Jack said patiently. “And the lass didn’t sit for the portrait. As for Brighton, he got better treatment than I would have under similar circumstances.” I noticed that despite his serenity, Jack’s body seemed unnaturally stiff. Too, his eyes held none of the twinkle I’d come to expect when he dealt with aggression. The old Jack would have begun his little bob and weave, double-talking his way out of danger. This new, harder Jack possessed a raw edge, a threat of violence.

“You got a boy to saw off Brighton’s leg,” Will spat. “Why didn’t you do it?”

“What would be the sense in doing it myself when I have a doctor in training on board?” Jack smiled as he gestured to me with his head. “Doctors have to get their practice somehow.”

Will looked at me more carefully. I held my breath. He whipped back around, threatening to pin Jack with three feet of steel. “Brighton says you lashed him into a hammock and denied him rum for the pain of his leg.”

“Colonel Brighton was confined to a sling for his own safety,” I interrupted. “A man with such a surgery done to him shouldn’t be rampaging the ship. He got plenty of rum.”

“Aye,” Jack agreed. “I’m surprised Weatherby didn’t mention that.”

“Governor Swann vouched for you,” Will said grudgingly. “I doubted his recollection of events. He has high nerves.” He renewed his grip on his sword. “But that doesn’t address the matter of Elizabeth’s portrait.”

“What do you want me say?” Jack spread his hands open. “T’was to be a gift for you but I hardly thought you’d accept it. You damn near ventilated me the last time I came to visit.”

Will let the tip of his sword fall to the deck. “But why would you make such a thing for me?” His haunted eyes sought answers from Jack. Jack looked up at the sky.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Will looked out at the dark sea. “I don’t know that I can continue to love someone from afar, or that I could love someone who chose the ocean over me,” he murmured. He looked sideways at Jack. “I really thought she would find you, join your crew, even sleep in your bed. I saw the two of you…” He tore his eyes away from Jack suddenly. “I saw her kissing you that day we battled the kraken.”

“Desperate women are known to do strange things,” Jack replied mildly, keeping my shameful secret. He could have told Will I’d chained him to the mast as a sacrifice to the kraken. “I haven’t bedded the lass,” he went on. “I thought I might persuade her when we were marooned together, but she got me sodding drunk and burned up the rum.”

“Why won’t she come back?” Will exploded, slamming his hands down on a barrel. “Is it so terrible to be a blacksmith’s wife?”

“Is it so terrible to imagine she might not want to marry at all, or to pass babies out her birth canal until her womb drops?” Jack posed quietly. “I assume you want to have a full marriage? Bed wrestling causes wee ones.”

“Babies are a natural result of a man and woman loving each other,” Will replied tightly. “I fail to see how they are in the equation. Elizabeth would die a spinster if she didn’t want to have babies.” He crossed his arms. “Can’t believe I’m even talking to you about her.” Spinning, he faced Jack once more. “So what would make her think you’d be any better? She could get with child with either one of us.”

“Will,” Jack said softly, leaning back on the stone barrel. “You need to go out into this world before you condemn your lass. Go out there and see how big the world really is.”

“What if Elizabeth comes back and I’m gone?” Will’s lips hardened. “I couldn’t be gone.”

“You could,” Jack argued. “Listen to yourself. What if Elizabeth comes back and I’m gone? Why not leave it at what if Elizabeth comes back? A person taken by the sea doesn’t just return to land, Will, I know. Yer gonna sit here and stew until you can’t even be her friend anymore, you’ll be so bitter. Do you want that?”

“No, of course not,” Will muttered. “But she meant to marry me. We’d be married right now if not for our mutual arrests.”

“She was a child getting ready to play house, like you were. She’s entitled to come to her senses.” Jack said this last part with all the disdain a sailor holds for land. “You love someone, mate, you don’t tie them down. You enjoy watching them spread their wings and you clean them up when they fall.”

“You can’t have ever been in my position, so don’t tell me ridiculous things about being tied down,” Will said harshly, his voice dropping to a guttural tone.

“But I am in your position.” Jack took a swig from his flask, pinning Will with his eyes. “I love a woman who can never love me.”

“The sea,” Will said, disgusted. “It isn’t the same thing, Jack! The sea won’t keep you warm at night or raise your children. The sea won’t take care of you when you’re sick. The sea won’t smile at you and she won’t shed tears over you.”

The men were quiet a few minutes. Jack drank and Will stood motionless at the side. I could hear Will breathing forcefully out of his nostrils and Jack’s loud swallowing.

“If she comes to you, I want you to bring her back to me,” Will said finally. “I don’t want her tempted by your vile, poisoned sugar.”

“You want an oath as to how I treat Lizzie, you better pick up your sword right now,” Jack said lightly. “She takes a step onto me ship and she’s mine.”

Will brought his sword up in an instant, but Jack slapped it away with his own. Their crossed blades made a sound that brought the hairs on my nape to rigid attention. “She isn’t yours,” Will shouted.

“She ain’t yours either mate, so as far as I’m concerned, she’s honorable game.” Jack feinted to the left and to the right in quick succession, putting Will on the defensive. “It’s up to fair Lizzie to choose where she wants to go and who she wants to gift, savvy? If you want to be any obstruction to me you’d better get a ship and a crew. Hard to prevent me turning her head when you’re leagues behind. ”

“I’ll never be a pirate,” Will gasped, moving Jack backward with a few sharp slashes. “Elizabeth would never be a pirate.”

“She already is, mate, you’re just too blind to see it in her.” Jack pressed back, stepping around the mast and stone barrel to force Will nearer the rail. “You know she’s at sea right now, she admitted her intentions.” Jack tilted to one side, defending himself with his right hand while his left hand mimed the act of writing. “Dearest Will, I cannot bear to tell you this, but I must. I have to leave, to find my own desires in this world. I tasted the sea and I must go back. I cannot limit myself to this island, not until I know what else can be experienced. Please do not-.” Jack grunted, cut off when Will’s sword passed close enough to rip his shirt. Bright red spread out on the white fabric.

Will had opened Jack’s side stitches.

“You bloody bastard,” Will shouted, hammering at Jack’s defense like a man possessed. “I let you read that on the condition you’d never throw it in my face!”

“You stupid whelp!” Jack’s easy manner vanished. His voice dropped to the guttural growl he so rarely used. “Someone needs to throw it in your face. You’re too thick to read what it means!” He drove Will backward and kicked his legs out from under him. Will hit the deck hard, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Jack promptly hauled him to his feet by the scruff of his neck. “You don’t really have to worry too much about me, William, I doubt Lizzie’s tastes run to unwashed pirates. However, I can wash off a bit of dirt and settle fair easy. The more you demand, the easier her choice.” With that, Jack tossed Will over the side.

I went to the rail and peered down. Will, spluttering, dragged himself into the boat. He sat there a few minutes, seemingly oblivious to us watching him. Finally, he picked up the oars and began rowing back to port. My heart ached at how much grief I’d caused him, but he talked about me like I should have no interest other than him.

“Gonna hafta stitch me back up, lad,” Jack said softly. I turned to see him holding his side. Blood leaked from between his slender, knotty fingers.

Cursing Will’s impulsiveness, I followed Jack back into his quarters. We knew the routine so well by now, we moved in synchronicity. I prepped a needle while Jack removed his shirt. As I sat, he sat. As I peered in at the ruin that had been some of my finest work, I realized Will had aimed specifically for Jack’s old wound. By the neatness of the cut I clearly saw each severed thread.

“Has good aim, doesn’t he?” Jack said, already nursing a bottle. “I hope you were watching him. He has near-perfect control.”

“I’m sorry,” I answered. “I was more wrapped up in the idea he meant to gut you and that I’d have to shoot him.” My voice trembled a bit as I forced the truth from my lips. I had borne the responsibility to shoot Will in a non-fatal place. It had been a quick fight, but a tense one.

I picked the old stitches free, washed everything in rum, and began to work on Jack’s side. He drank quietly, for once. So much I appreciated time alone with my thoughts, I didn’t push him to talk. The atmosphere thickened gradually.

Our crew came back aboard, their heavy steps swarming the boards. Gibbs stuck his head in the cabin. His eyes widened. Shaking his head, he raised his arms half heavenward. “The boy came back for another shot and you let him,” he accused. “Will there be another?”

“I’m done trying to talk sense to the wind,” Jack drawled. “Cook get his pans?”

“Yes.” Gibbs took out a ledger and thumbed through it. “To the pence what he said it would be. Also picked up citrus and bread. Water cost us more this time.”

“And Lei’s supplies?” Jack yawned.

“Got ‘em.” Gibbs grinned at me. “Captain thought ye oughtta be reimbursed for what you spent at Tia Dalma’s,” he explained. His grin turned into a wry grimace. “At this rate he’ll use all ‘em bandages ‘imself.”

“Last time,” Jack chimed, holding his bottle aloft. “No more free shots for the whelp. I officially note your reproach.”

Gibbs wandered off, looking only mildly appeased.

“He had to bugger off,” Jack mumbled. “It’s official when noted officially, officially.”

I shook my head. Jack and his loopy speech…