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honorat for beta reading this one for me!
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three
Chapter Four |
Chapter Five
Having lain abed until well into the morning, Yewande Zola and her two daughters were just sitting down to a late breakfast of calas and strong coffee on the veranda of her home. They had been called to attend a birth at one of the wealthier plantations on the previous evening, and the troublesome mite had been slow to leave her nest. She was a first child, and all their skill and patience had been called upon to keep the young mother’s mind from fear and set on her task with the necessary fortitude. A favorable outcome had been achieved at last, however. The cries of the healthy newborn had sounded from the ornate bedroom shortly before dawn, and they had allowed the father in with the sun’s first rays. He was rich and middle-aged, but his face had been ravaged with worry, and he had actually wept in relief that his bride was not only alive but able to smile wearily, now that it was over, and he didn’t seem to mind that the babe was a daughter – didn’t mind the babe much at all, in truth, to the new mother’s chagrin.
Yewande had assured her that this was an old story.
She had just been chuckling over this with her daughters when a group of visitors entered her garden gate, including another example of once heedless paternity: Jack Sparrow. The pirate had a hand on the shoulder of the very son he’d once ignored (albeit briefly), the boy that Yewande Zola had helped to bring into the world nearly ten years ago.
When the Black Pearl had stayed a fortnight in Bridgetown nine months back, the ship having arrived a few hours before the birth of Will and Elizabeth Turner’s son, Yewande had become reacquainted with Tom Sparrow. He was so like his father it always made her want to laugh (though she restrained herself at present, since she wanted the captain on the back foot in the coming negotiations). The slight, strong build; the silken black hair carelessly tied at his nape; the great, dark eyes set in a countenance that would break hearts—too pretty for a boy, Yewande had thought, until she’d perceived his bold spirit as well as hints of a strange, quicksilver grace: Tom Sparrow came by all these traits honestly, for they were still easily discernable in Jack Sparrow, despite his practiced disguise.
She glanced at the other visitors. Joshamee Gibbs was notably absent, but Will Turner had come today – Yewande deigned to smile, so polite and handsome a young man as he was—and James Norrington, whom she hadn’t seen since Tom’s birth, tall and distinguished, and now an admiral if she’d heard aright. And there was one other, a small girl with gold hair and a worried expression, who clung to Tom Sparrow’s hand as though he were in danger of disappearing, while in her other hand she gripped a red leather lead that was attached to a hairy little dog.
They all stopped before the veranda, but Jack Sparrow took one more step forward, put his hands together and bowed. “Good morning, Madame Juju. Or… afternoon?”
Yewande narrowed her eyes. “Morning will do, since we three were up all last night, seeing a new soul into the world.” And then she couldn’t help it, she said fondly, “Tom Sparrow, come here and greet me properly.”
The boy came up the steps of the veranda to her, and there was that crooked smile, but there was some shadow in his eyes, too.
They embraced, and she murmured, “My heart, you have gown! Tell me: your father takes good care of you?”
“Aye. He does, ma’am.”
He straightened, but she kept hold of his hand and studied him closely for a moment. Then she nodded and rose, and she gently brushed back a lock of his hair that had strayed from its binding: a mother’s caress. “Go to him, then,” she said, releasing him, and watched as he returned to stand beside his father.
She spoke. “So, Jack Sparrow, you need all these fine folk to help you? You cannot come alone to ask for what you seek?”
To his credit, Sparrow didn’t protest at this, or dissemble. He said, “Don’t know if you’d heard, but Tom here might’ve had a sister five years old now if my wife had been fortunate enough to’ve had the favor of your presence and help, as we did when he came along.”
Yewande shook her head. “Only God knows what might have been. But your lady told me this herself when you were last in Barbados, and your quartermaster said yesterday that she is once more with child after all this time.”
“Aye, it’s something of a miracle. She’s due to be brought to bed in less than a month, Madame, and she begs you to come to her on St. Claire to attend her, as do I. We’ll make it worth your while. Anything you like – name your price.”
“I have plenty of wealth for my needs, Jack Sparrow, and I serve the women of Barbados. Your wife is but one woman, and she has health and riches aplenty. The babe will give her no trouble. My friend Rachel is there, and other experienced hands.”
“Only God knows what may be, Madame Juju,” Sparrow said, sly and pious, “and I promised my wife I would do what I could to persuade you. You have two beautiful daughters and you have taught them well. Surely they are capable of caring for the women of Barbados while you are away. Is there no treasure I can offer that will tempt you?”
Yewande’s daughters might be out of her line of sight, but she sensed their amusement and she had to assume a scowl to mask her own. “Jack Sparrow, you are a cozening scoundrel,” she told him, and then shook her head at his poorly suppressed delight in this epithet. Nevertheless, she went on. “Indeed, my daughters are nearly as skilled as I. But the young mother we delivered last night must be watched carefully for a few more days, it was a hard birth and her first. Once she is out of danger, it may be that I can leave Barbados for a short time. But my price is high, though it has little to do with the kind of treasure you speak of.”
“Well?” said Sparrow when she paused. “What is it?”
“There is a particular herb that I use much in my work, very rare and very effective. But my supply will soon be gone. Indeed, I may not have enough to aid me in attending your beloved wife. Therefore, if I come with you, you will first take me to the distant islands where this herb grows wild and you and your crew will help me harvest enough to last a year and a day.”
“Distant?” Jack repeated, suspiciously. “How distant?”
“Oh, it will be as nothing for your Black Pearl, though for any other craft it might be a lengthy voyage. The islands are north of here, off the coast of Panama.”
Jack’s face fell, and his companions reflected the same dismay.
“Would we make it back in time?” Will asked Jack. “That is the whole point, after all.”
Norrington, who had been doing some mental calculations, said, “By my reckoning we should arrive home with at least a week to spare – if we aren’t delayed again.”
“Aye,” Jack growled. “That’s the question. And the way this voyage has been going so far….” He raised his voice. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather have treasure, Madame Juju? I mean money, jewels, that sort of thing?”
She shook her head. “Not all treasure is silver and gold, Jack Sparrow, as well you know. Will you agree to my terms or not?”
He muttered something that she didn’t quite catch, though she had no doubt of its profane nature. But then he nodded. “Aye. Agreed. Distant islands. Herbs.”
“And if we’re to sail together, you will address me respectfully, by my real name.”
“Your real name? It’s not Madame Juju?”
“It is Yewande Zola.”
“Ye-wan-de…”
“Zola.”
“Right.” He managed not to roll his eyes, though she saw that he was tempted. But he did add, “And if we’re indeed to sail together, on my ship, you may call me Captain Jack Sparrow.”
Yewande condescended to bow, having foreseen this concession. “Very well, Captain. And now you and your companions will come sit in the shade with us and I will send for more breakfast – or lunch, if you think it more appropriate.”
*
The Osprey lay anchored in South Bay at St. Claire, within sight of Island House, and the ship’s captain and two of his men were presently in the dining room enjoying a sumptuous repast with Weatherby, Giles and Miriam Lightfoot, Elizabeth, Maggie and Julietta. Harry, however, had elected to keep to her room, her frequent bouts of indigestion now precluding true enjoyment of Madame Guerinot’s more spectacular dishes. Moreover, her back had been aching, and she had been feeling a little low in spirits, even before reading Jack’s letter, which the captain of the Osprey had brought her that afternoon. Now, lying upon her chaise, the cool evening breeze coming in the window, she found herself inclined to tears as she read it through yet again.
As Harry finished reading, Maggie slipped into the room carrying a small tray of delicacies, but when she saw her friend she put the tray down quickly, closed the door, and came hurrying across the room. “Harry, my dear, what is it? James said only that they were a little delayed!”
Harry tried to smile as Maggie sat down beside her, but her brimming eyes now overflowed, and she gave a small sob and pressed her handkerchief to her lips. Maggie drew her close, making soothing noises, until Harry was able to gasp, “Oh, Maggie, I should never have sent him away. I miss him horribly, and it’s all my own fault. And T-tom! Tom!” And she began to sob in earnest.
“Do let me see that letter!” Maggie begged.
Harry gave it to her, but as Maggie read it through the thought occurred that she wouldn’t at all like the part about Anne sliding down backstays or going aloft, never mind her daughter’s acquisition of a new pet, and it was this concern that allowed Harry to gain some control and stop crying.
“Well!” said Maggie when she had finished it.
“I’m certain Anne will be fine, Maggie.”
“I’m certain of it, too, now that Jack is aware of the situation. But he had no business sending you a letter that he surely must have known would upset you. He should be thrashed himself, and so I will tell him when next we meet.”
“Oh, no! Jack and I must share our thoughts and worries without reserve. Why, we’re apart for months at a time. Surely you and James write to each other in a similarly intimate vein?”
“James would never say anything to distress me on the very eve of giving birth to his child.”
“Jack didn’t mean to upset me. It’s only that I haven’t been feeling entirely well today.”
“I know. I’ve brought you a light repast, Madame Louise made it with the greatest care so you must try to eat just a little of it so she will not be offended.”
“I will. But it’s not only that. I’m so uncomfortable, and all I can do is lay here like some hideous toad, waiting. My back hurts, too.” She snuffled, thoroughly sorry for herself, and blew her nose.
Maggie smiled, but thankfully did not say Harry was being ridiculous. She folded Jack’s letter and set it on the table, out of reach, and said, “Lie back and I’ll bring the tray. You will feel better if you have something to eat and drink, and then I’ll help you change into your prettiest nightgown and rub the ache from your back.”
“Thank you, Maggie. And will you please go down and give my thanks to Captain Whitney for bringing the letters?”
“I certainly will,” Maggie said, but she gave Harry a hug, and a kiss on her forehead first.
On to Chapter Six
honorat for beta reading this one for me!Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three
Chapter Four |
Chapter Five
Having lain abed until well into the morning, Yewande Zola and her two daughters were just sitting down to a late breakfast of calas and strong coffee on the veranda of her home. They had been called to attend a birth at one of the wealthier plantations on the previous evening, and the troublesome mite had been slow to leave her nest. She was a first child, and all their skill and patience had been called upon to keep the young mother’s mind from fear and set on her task with the necessary fortitude. A favorable outcome had been achieved at last, however. The cries of the healthy newborn had sounded from the ornate bedroom shortly before dawn, and they had allowed the father in with the sun’s first rays. He was rich and middle-aged, but his face had been ravaged with worry, and he had actually wept in relief that his bride was not only alive but able to smile wearily, now that it was over, and he didn’t seem to mind that the babe was a daughter – didn’t mind the babe much at all, in truth, to the new mother’s chagrin.
Yewande had assured her that this was an old story.
She had just been chuckling over this with her daughters when a group of visitors entered her garden gate, including another example of once heedless paternity: Jack Sparrow. The pirate had a hand on the shoulder of the very son he’d once ignored (albeit briefly), the boy that Yewande Zola had helped to bring into the world nearly ten years ago.
When the Black Pearl had stayed a fortnight in Bridgetown nine months back, the ship having arrived a few hours before the birth of Will and Elizabeth Turner’s son, Yewande had become reacquainted with Tom Sparrow. He was so like his father it always made her want to laugh (though she restrained herself at present, since she wanted the captain on the back foot in the coming negotiations). The slight, strong build; the silken black hair carelessly tied at his nape; the great, dark eyes set in a countenance that would break hearts—too pretty for a boy, Yewande had thought, until she’d perceived his bold spirit as well as hints of a strange, quicksilver grace: Tom Sparrow came by all these traits honestly, for they were still easily discernable in Jack Sparrow, despite his practiced disguise.
She glanced at the other visitors. Joshamee Gibbs was notably absent, but Will Turner had come today – Yewande deigned to smile, so polite and handsome a young man as he was—and James Norrington, whom she hadn’t seen since Tom’s birth, tall and distinguished, and now an admiral if she’d heard aright. And there was one other, a small girl with gold hair and a worried expression, who clung to Tom Sparrow’s hand as though he were in danger of disappearing, while in her other hand she gripped a red leather lead that was attached to a hairy little dog.
They all stopped before the veranda, but Jack Sparrow took one more step forward, put his hands together and bowed. “Good morning, Madame Juju. Or… afternoon?”
Yewande narrowed her eyes. “Morning will do, since we three were up all last night, seeing a new soul into the world.” And then she couldn’t help it, she said fondly, “Tom Sparrow, come here and greet me properly.”
The boy came up the steps of the veranda to her, and there was that crooked smile, but there was some shadow in his eyes, too.
They embraced, and she murmured, “My heart, you have gown! Tell me: your father takes good care of you?”
“Aye. He does, ma’am.”
He straightened, but she kept hold of his hand and studied him closely for a moment. Then she nodded and rose, and she gently brushed back a lock of his hair that had strayed from its binding: a mother’s caress. “Go to him, then,” she said, releasing him, and watched as he returned to stand beside his father.
She spoke. “So, Jack Sparrow, you need all these fine folk to help you? You cannot come alone to ask for what you seek?”
To his credit, Sparrow didn’t protest at this, or dissemble. He said, “Don’t know if you’d heard, but Tom here might’ve had a sister five years old now if my wife had been fortunate enough to’ve had the favor of your presence and help, as we did when he came along.”
Yewande shook her head. “Only God knows what might have been. But your lady told me this herself when you were last in Barbados, and your quartermaster said yesterday that she is once more with child after all this time.”
“Aye, it’s something of a miracle. She’s due to be brought to bed in less than a month, Madame, and she begs you to come to her on St. Claire to attend her, as do I. We’ll make it worth your while. Anything you like – name your price.”
“I have plenty of wealth for my needs, Jack Sparrow, and I serve the women of Barbados. Your wife is but one woman, and she has health and riches aplenty. The babe will give her no trouble. My friend Rachel is there, and other experienced hands.”
“Only God knows what may be, Madame Juju,” Sparrow said, sly and pious, “and I promised my wife I would do what I could to persuade you. You have two beautiful daughters and you have taught them well. Surely they are capable of caring for the women of Barbados while you are away. Is there no treasure I can offer that will tempt you?”
Yewande’s daughters might be out of her line of sight, but she sensed their amusement and she had to assume a scowl to mask her own. “Jack Sparrow, you are a cozening scoundrel,” she told him, and then shook her head at his poorly suppressed delight in this epithet. Nevertheless, she went on. “Indeed, my daughters are nearly as skilled as I. But the young mother we delivered last night must be watched carefully for a few more days, it was a hard birth and her first. Once she is out of danger, it may be that I can leave Barbados for a short time. But my price is high, though it has little to do with the kind of treasure you speak of.”
“Well?” said Sparrow when she paused. “What is it?”
“There is a particular herb that I use much in my work, very rare and very effective. But my supply will soon be gone. Indeed, I may not have enough to aid me in attending your beloved wife. Therefore, if I come with you, you will first take me to the distant islands where this herb grows wild and you and your crew will help me harvest enough to last a year and a day.”
“Distant?” Jack repeated, suspiciously. “How distant?”
“Oh, it will be as nothing for your Black Pearl, though for any other craft it might be a lengthy voyage. The islands are north of here, off the coast of Panama.”
Jack’s face fell, and his companions reflected the same dismay.
“Would we make it back in time?” Will asked Jack. “That is the whole point, after all.”
Norrington, who had been doing some mental calculations, said, “By my reckoning we should arrive home with at least a week to spare – if we aren’t delayed again.”
“Aye,” Jack growled. “That’s the question. And the way this voyage has been going so far….” He raised his voice. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather have treasure, Madame Juju? I mean money, jewels, that sort of thing?”
She shook her head. “Not all treasure is silver and gold, Jack Sparrow, as well you know. Will you agree to my terms or not?”
He muttered something that she didn’t quite catch, though she had no doubt of its profane nature. But then he nodded. “Aye. Agreed. Distant islands. Herbs.”
“And if we’re to sail together, you will address me respectfully, by my real name.”
“Your real name? It’s not Madame Juju?”
“It is Yewande Zola.”
“Ye-wan-de…”
“Zola.”
“Right.” He managed not to roll his eyes, though she saw that he was tempted. But he did add, “And if we’re indeed to sail together, on my ship, you may call me Captain Jack Sparrow.”
Yewande condescended to bow, having foreseen this concession. “Very well, Captain. And now you and your companions will come sit in the shade with us and I will send for more breakfast – or lunch, if you think it more appropriate.”
*
The Osprey lay anchored in South Bay at St. Claire, within sight of Island House, and the ship’s captain and two of his men were presently in the dining room enjoying a sumptuous repast with Weatherby, Giles and Miriam Lightfoot, Elizabeth, Maggie and Julietta. Harry, however, had elected to keep to her room, her frequent bouts of indigestion now precluding true enjoyment of Madame Guerinot’s more spectacular dishes. Moreover, her back had been aching, and she had been feeling a little low in spirits, even before reading Jack’s letter, which the captain of the Osprey had brought her that afternoon. Now, lying upon her chaise, the cool evening breeze coming in the window, she found herself inclined to tears as she read it through yet again.
Harry love –
The devil’s in it that we’ve to take Madame Juju to some bits of island east of Panama to gather some sort of herbs before she’ll come to you. She says she uses them in her work and that you’d need some, and that’s the only thing she’d accept in payment. We leave tomorrow, finally, and with fair winds and a following sea we hope to be home a week before your daughter arrives on deck. As it were.
We were becalmed for a few days on the way from Sweets Island to Barbados, and then have had to wait upon M.J.’s leisure, which circumstances added up to a considerable delay, on top of that incurred by that storm and our stay at Sweets. You may imagine my sentiments.
Also, Tom contrived to cross the line one too many times the very day after we arrived in Barbados. I managed to do my fatherly duty toward him, but was brought so low thereby that I abandoned ship and sought solace in a bottle, which I haven’t done in a good long while as you well know. Decided Tom should be prenticed out soon, you know we’ve spoken of it before, and though it’s a good, reasonable decision, it has me so blue-devilled that I’m not fit company for man or beast these days.
(And if you ask “What beast?” I shall have to refer you to Mimi, the romping swab of a canine that Tom rescued in the course of his illicit adventures. It’s Anne’s dog, now, James is letting her keep it, you can tell Maggie if he’s not done so.)
Tom’s fine, no worries, and sends his love to you. He has been a bit more mindful about following orders since the Fatal Incident, though that’s probably due less to the thrashing I gave him than to Anne’s strong objections to said thrashing, hysterics ain’t in it, give you my word. Now she “hangs on him like a disease”, as the Bard wrote. She and Tom have been having a grand old time since we made our pact with M.J., taking in the sights of Bridgetown and the surrounding country with us, building sandcastles on the beach, etc. I caught him trying to teach her to slide down one of the Black Pearl’s backstays a couple of mornings ago, and though I had to scotch that caper I made sure to express my admiration of her head for heights (I believe Tom had her up in the foretop at least once this voyage), and she’s been slightly less inclined either to shrink away or to look daggers at me since, which is something of a relief.
Captain Whitney of the Osprey (nice little 18-gun brig) is leaving for Nassau within the hour and has kindly offered to stop at St. Claire with our letters, so I must end. We’ll be off for these herbal islands in the morning, but God willing I’ll see you in a fortnight and be there to offer you a hand to squeeze, at least in the first hours –you know that woman won’t let me stay in the room for the actual event. (She says her real name is Yewande Zola, by the way, and insists I must call her that. Would you credit it, after all these years? Hope I can remember.)
I miss you, love.
Jack
As Harry finished reading, Maggie slipped into the room carrying a small tray of delicacies, but when she saw her friend she put the tray down quickly, closed the door, and came hurrying across the room. “Harry, my dear, what is it? James said only that they were a little delayed!”
Harry tried to smile as Maggie sat down beside her, but her brimming eyes now overflowed, and she gave a small sob and pressed her handkerchief to her lips. Maggie drew her close, making soothing noises, until Harry was able to gasp, “Oh, Maggie, I should never have sent him away. I miss him horribly, and it’s all my own fault. And T-tom! Tom!” And she began to sob in earnest.
“Do let me see that letter!” Maggie begged.
Harry gave it to her, but as Maggie read it through the thought occurred that she wouldn’t at all like the part about Anne sliding down backstays or going aloft, never mind her daughter’s acquisition of a new pet, and it was this concern that allowed Harry to gain some control and stop crying.
“Well!” said Maggie when she had finished it.
“I’m certain Anne will be fine, Maggie.”
“I’m certain of it, too, now that Jack is aware of the situation. But he had no business sending you a letter that he surely must have known would upset you. He should be thrashed himself, and so I will tell him when next we meet.”
“Oh, no! Jack and I must share our thoughts and worries without reserve. Why, we’re apart for months at a time. Surely you and James write to each other in a similarly intimate vein?”
“James would never say anything to distress me on the very eve of giving birth to his child.”
“Jack didn’t mean to upset me. It’s only that I haven’t been feeling entirely well today.”
“I know. I’ve brought you a light repast, Madame Louise made it with the greatest care so you must try to eat just a little of it so she will not be offended.”
“I will. But it’s not only that. I’m so uncomfortable, and all I can do is lay here like some hideous toad, waiting. My back hurts, too.” She snuffled, thoroughly sorry for herself, and blew her nose.
Maggie smiled, but thankfully did not say Harry was being ridiculous. She folded Jack’s letter and set it on the table, out of reach, and said, “Lie back and I’ll bring the tray. You will feel better if you have something to eat and drink, and then I’ll help you change into your prettiest nightgown and rub the ache from your back.”
“Thank you, Maggie. And will you please go down and give my thanks to Captain Whitney for bringing the letters?”
“I certainly will,” Maggie said, but she gave Harry a hug, and a kiss on her forehead first.
On to Chapter Six
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 07:36 pm (UTC)May Jack have a journey with the minimum number of mishaps (I know- Fat Chance!)
no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 03:47 am (UTC)Including Captain Jack Sparrow, when he's at home. ;) Fortunate, indeed.
Two more chapters, and they should be fun. Thank you so much for reading and commenting both here and at FF.net!
no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 02:01 am (UTC)I love this story, let me just say and what a lovely fix for a Sparrow-head! Yep, What next?! What's the deal with Madame J2 aka Miz Zola and Tom Sparrow? What kind of meanie beanies will they encounter at Herb Island, dad blame!? Got my attention, miz GMM, yes indeedy.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 03:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 04:05 am (UTC)Jack is so perfectly perturbed, nigh ready to explode at this point I imagine, and poor Harry, poor Tom - poor Mr. Gibbs as well!
Thoroughly enjoy this, and looking forward to more next week ♥
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Date: 2010-08-30 05:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-05 07:44 pm (UTC)