Pirate Vindaloo, Chapter 20

Still Waters

by

Hippediva & Elessil

James' face was already streaked with sweat when Matthew attempted another lunge, a combination of two quick thrusts. James easily stepped aside and grabbed the already breathless boy around the waist, spinning him through the air before setting him down again. "Enough for today, else our clothes shall not dry until tomorrow."

Matthew pouted on principle, but his lack of protest said enough. "Cor if it ain't beastly hot!  And no wind!  Why isn't there any wind, James?"

James tugged him aft where they could sit, shaded by the elevated quarterdeck. It was better he answered the question before Jack came up with a ridiculously insane tale that would only serve to confuse the boy. "Matthew, do you remember the trade winds? We just passed through the south-east trade wind. That was why we were so fast.

And further north, there is the north-east trade wind. As a quick-witted young man as you will have realised, their name indicates that they blow in nearly opposite directions. And here is where they meet." He paused a bit and grinned. "Sometimes, we call these the Horse Latitudes."

"But why's the wind stopped?"  Matthew, sad to say, repeated one of Jack's fouler and more colourful oaths and giggled.  "And why horses?  I mean, that's just silly.  There aren't any horses here."

"No horses!  Just look at them clouds, barnacle!  Horses all over!"  Jack was half-dressed and dripping wet as he flopped down next to them on the deck.

"Do not mind Jack. He is affected by a little too much sun," James warned. "See, Matthew, we are crossing the Equator. And the trade winds blow in its direction. They have reached their goal, and so they stop."

He paused to glare at Jack who was draping an arm around his shoulder. "Sailors named them. They had horses aboard and when caught without wind, they had to throw the horses overboard to save drinking water. So if Jack ever speaks of sunken treasure here, it will neigh."

"And sometimes, on nights so still you can hear yer blood in yer veins, them horses come up from th' depths to wreak havoc on unwary ships, tramplin' and screamin' in fury."  Jack's eyes were intent, charming the boy into hypnotised fascination as his left hand snaked around to tickle him.  "Boo!"

Matthew squealed and James rolled his eyes. "See, the trade winds are a little bit like Captain Jack here, and the Doldrums are a bottle of rum. The rum is the destination, and he swirls and rushes and generally makes a lot of noise to get there. But when he reaches his destination, he falls over in a heap and begins to snore, and does not move for a long time."

"Wretch!"  Jack pulled one of the braids in James' hair.  "Matthew, I am not a trade wind or any other kind o' wind.  Jamie, here, on the other hand, is known fer bein' a bit full o'wind himself."  Jack scooted himself next to Matthew and wrestled him into gales of laughter.

Matthew squirmed until he wrenched free, scrambling behind James and peeking forward with a wide and playful grin.

"Right, Jack is not a wind. Because winds can, on occasion, be very useful."

"Such disrespect fer an ole seadog!"  Jack was, as usual, restless as any wind.  He couldn't sit still for two minutes together, constantly on his feet, then flopping to the deck, bouncing around, his hands always in motion.  "Wish I could be a wind right now.  I'd get us bloody movin' again.  I hate sittin' like a bunch o'landlubbers in a church."

"I am certain your charm would convince a few horses to surface and pull the Chimaera like a carriage." James arched an expectant eyebrow and Matthew dared to leave his cover again, giggling and looking at Jack with wide eyes.

"Can you do that?"

"Only one as can do that is the Sea Witch, and she'd only do it fer a blood sacrifice.  She favours lads with gold curls and too many questions."  Jack tumbled around the deck with Matthew again like a pair of puppies.  He shoved his hair out of his face and hefted its weight from his neck.  "Anyone wanna swim?"

James sighed his relief. "Oh, yes."

Matthew nodded eagerly, then stopped short and chewed on his lip again, when James lightly touched his shoulder. "'n will the Sea Witch be down there in the water?"

James shook his head. "If she is there, she will only slap Jack, as all women do. She will not mind you."

Jack put out his tongue at James and stood up, letting his breeches drop to the deck.  "Christ, let's go then.  I'm too hot t'think!"  He was balanced on the rail for barely a second, then arcing down towards the water.

"C'mon!  It's warm as a bath," he hollered.

Matthew eyed the long fall hesitantly, although he had stared at Jack's dive, gaping. James held him a line to climb down instead, then undressed and jumped after them with a splash.

"G'wan, Mattie.  Let go!"  Jack bobbed in the water like a very odd buoy.  He dived under as the boy released his hold and caught him beneath the surface, easing them up and sputtering a laugh.  "James, if ya grab me foot I'll---"  Jack disappeared and popped up to pull James into a playful kiss.  "Matt, swim t'me."

Matthew eyed the distance and swam, pushing through the water. "Yes, very good. No, don't kick my chest." James swam around them, circling, then, as Matthew swam away from Jack again, dunked him under water.

Jack lazed on his back, watching the sky and made a decision.  "VORST!" he yelled, "Toss me a line.  Jamie, give me as much slack as ya can.  I wanna see if I can figger out that bloody leak."

James was swimming close to the ship with Matthew, showing him how to move properly in the water rather than simply keeping his head above the surface. He lifted an eyebrow. "Do you wish to keelhaul yourself?"

Jack splashed him.  "Just takin' a look.  C'mon, give it over."  He took the end of the line and wrapped it around his waist.  "If I tug, haul me up."  He took a breath, doubled around and dove deep, heading under the Chimaera until he could just see the dark curve of her keel. She was too weighted down for him to go further and he swam away from her to the surface. 

"Damnation!  I can usually get further down than that!"  He kicked in frustration and waited long enough for his breathing to still then tried again, losing himself in the colder waters where they sun did not reach, carefully avoiding the barnacled wood and straining against his bursting lungs until he saw the faint bubbling, just off-centre amidships.  His pulse throbbing in his temples, he pushed away again, finally tugging on the rope when he was sure he was clear of the ship.

James hauled him up quickly until a gasping Jack was clinging to his neck, slightly cooler from the deep water. "Now what have we here? Look Matthew, a stranded, wriggling fish!" Bending closer, he whispered into Jack's ear, "Bloody stubborn fool."

Matthew swam closer and clung to James' shoulders, peering at Jack. "Did y'see any horses?"

Jack shook his head breathlessly.  "Only a coupla little seahorses, mate," he panted.  "I found that leak!  Just off t'larboard down the middle."  He spat out salt water and clung to James.  "God, she's low in the water."

"That is little wonder with all that cargo. Although we must have lost several pounds of rum casks already." James eyed Jack poignantly, lazily treading water and holding on to the line - the Chimaera was slow, so it was merely the gentlest tug with which she eased them through the water. He waited until Jack's panting stilled to kiss him fleetingly.  "I am getting back aboard, and if my clothes are gone this time, we have volunteers for caulking that leak."

Jack suddenly threw both arms around his neck and kissed him, then gave him a swat and yelled for Bertie to haul him up.  "Wot about you, little horse?  Ready t'find yer sealegs again?"

He played with Matthew a while longer until the boy's teeth started to chatter and held onto the line as they flew up to the deck.  James was there, ready with a blanket.  "Wrap him up good."  Jack winked, then stalked to the wheel, babbling to Van as he pulled on his clothes.  He was suddenly in need of rum and a lot of it.

Matthew paraded the deck, the blanket trailing behind him, until a giggle turned into a yawn and James shooed him to his hammock.

James set a group of four to go and caulk the leak and ordered further tasks to keep the crew busy rather than letting them fall into the stifling boredom of becalmed weather. Dusk was setting in and with it, a bit of refreshing coolness, when he returned to the quarterdeck.

Jack was lying in a heap on the deck, staring up at the darkening sky and inward to his darkening mood.  It wasn't a very dark mood, just a tinge of indigo that made him slurp the contents of his flask and consider wishing on the evening star who winked at him faintly beneath the veil of sunset.

"Not that I am not flattered, but do you always have to look up to me?" James teased, a larger shadow against the sinking sun as he nudged Jack's side with his foot.

The dark eyes focused and he eyed James' crotch with a grin.  "Rather nice view from here, luv."  He rolled to sit up, wrapping his arms around his knees and heaved a sigh.  "Hope we catch a breeze soon.  I should douse the lights belowdecks.  It's too still."

"Two days hence, I would say. And yes, the Chimaera whispered that to me," James teased. It was an instinct bred of sailing most of his life, and James had crossed the Equator often enough. He sat himself next to Jack, leaning against the bulwark, eyes closed. He did not mind the Doldrums, not yet, at least. They had enough supplies, and unlike Jack, he was able to thoroughly enjoy sitting still.

Jack watched him mutely, his lips drooping.  James had been surprised to realise that, without his chronic grins and his beard only just beginning to fill in so he didn't appear quite so much an errant manchild, Jack's lips had a sad, downwards set to them.  "Two days ain't bad," he muttered wistfully.

"Then why are you looking at me as though I had taken away your rum?" James cracked open an eye and settled Jack into the crook of his shoulder, an arm wrapped around him so he would not continue swaying in and out of his sight.

"Nuthin', just thinkin' too much.  Makes me strung up.  No, not that kinda strung up!"  He laughed and gave James a pinch.  "Y'know I love sailin' hereabouts.  Right in the middle of the whole earth.  Stars look wonky, winds blow sideways and everythin' feels---I dunno---fey."

"Ah yes. Thinking puts a strain on a head unused to it." It was comfortable on the deck, marginally cooler and less stuffy than belowdecks. James looked up, imagining a breeze tickling his chin. "The stars look different everywhere. Only Polaris keeps steady."

Jack's voice was soft.  "Makes ya feel so small and at the same time, sorta connected to ev'rything.  Like bein' in the ocean.  Y'never did see them reefs off the far coast of New Holland.  Lord!  I never wanted t'come up fer air."

"Ah, that explains." James grinned. "It's beautiful. Endless, somehow. And it is why I wished to go to sea." He shifted, yawned, then looked over at Jack, strangely still. "Do you want to sleep on deck tonight? It is certainly more bearable than below."

Jack shifted.  "Gotten used to me own kip, luv."  He was feeling nervy and restless.  "I'm goin' below."  He rolled to his feet and scooped up his boots.

James kissed him and took the wheel, resting his hand on the wood. It was tied off, but still he thought there was a little shimmy. "I will follow in a little while."

Jack stopped in the causeway to think, then headed down to the galley in search of some refreshment.  While piling a trencher with fruit and a hunk of cheese, wheedling a bit of precious, if monumentally stale, bread from Cookie, he saw Ivan and Griffin, sitting together where they should not be at the big table, both laughing and sharing a mug between them.  He raised an eyebrow and trudged back to the Great Cabin.

It was fully dark outside when James followed, padding barefoot across the deck. The sight of their cabin made him nearly drop his boots.

Jack had lit the lamps, not the usual rough lanterns whose thick glass almost obscured the light, but two ornate Chinese lamps, plundered from the Cecilia.  The cabin was bathed in flame-red light as he pulled open the last casement to the Persian blue eastern sky already awash in stars.

James stood and watched for a moment, Jack leaning out of the casement, the flickering shadows of his body in the lamplight, dancing and alive. James straightened and coughed. "What's this then? I thought no light belowdecks?"

"Changed me mind.  I'll prob'ly regret it."  Jack had an odd look on his face, half puckish, half feaful.  "There's the last of the bread an' some o' that fine cheese.  No sense in goin' hungry."  His lips curved into a swift smile, black eyes gleaming in the red glow.

James cocked his head and smiled back, straightened, and grinned. "Should I be afraid?"

"Not unless I bring ya one of Cookie's specials."  He tipped his head with a coy look and lifted a decanter on the table that glowed like liquid rubies.  "Care t'try some o' Lisbon's finest port?"

He poured them each a glass, peering at James through the thick, blood-purple fluid.

James took one and lifted it in salute, then took a sip. It was fine wine and wine had been part of a Navy prize ship often enough, he told himself. "Is there any call for celebration?"

Jack sampled the port appraisingly.  "Let's just call it one o' my fancies tonight.  Ole Gibbsy coulda told ya I go a bit off now and then."

"Forgive me if that does not strike me as particularly comforting," James murmured, cutting a slice of the bread without taking his eyes from Jack's. There was a strange gleam in them and he wondered at it.

Jack refilled their glasses.  He'd pay for it in the morning, but the devil take the sunrise, the port and his head.  He was thrilling with a familiar urgency; the need to take with both hands whatever there was in the moment.  He sliced up a half-ripe pear.  "Why shouldn't we enjoy it?  I never have understood Puritanism."

"And that after all the work and sermons Deacon invested preaching it? Truly, a shame." James turned the glass in his fingers, the lamplight catching in the ruby liquid with a glint to match the one in Jack's eyes. "Have you ever denied yourself something you wanted? Not because you could not reach it, but because it was right?"

Jack pondered for a moment then smiled brightly.  "Why?"  He swayed in the ruddy pools of light that splotched the threadbare carpet, then sat down, his feet immediately on the table.  Slouched, coiled like a quivering spring in the chair, he was disturbingly feline.

James chuckled and sipped from his wine. "I believe that answers my question. You truly are a child, grabbing hold of all you want without any thought of self-restraint. Or manners. At least take off the boots."

"Oh, it's manners ya want?"  Jack removed the offending boots with a giggle.  "Missing all those fetes and folderol, James?"  He disappeared into the dark recesses of the cabin, emerging without coat, shirt or waistcoat, holding a trailing mass of Chinese silk that sparkled and gleamed the colours of translucent jade and aquamarine.  He handed the robe to James and winked.  "G'wan.  I'm gettin' fresh water."

James stared at it, then up at Jack. The dark eyes had the same bright gleam as the silk. He gulped and undressed, slipping into the garment.

"Ah, now that looks wonderful on ya."  Jack slipped out the door and clattered back in with a cauldron of hot water doused with some peculiar scent, rather like a Popish church, but darker.  He tossed one of the towels at James and a moulded bar of extraordinarily fine soap.  His deliberately sultry langour broke for a moment when he grinned like a boy.  "Well, there's gotta be compensations, luv!"

"I see." Anything that involved water and soap was highly welcome as the salt had left behind the itch of the drying, receding sea. "Jack, you do realise we are months out of Bombay?"

"Perhaps I just wanna get comfortable and enjoy the fruits of me labours."  He got busy with the soap and lingered over it, his eyes half-closed like a panther enjoying a much-needed bath.

That lasted long enough to make James' eyes darken just that little bit.  Jack's lips parted in a laugh.

In one smooth movement, James slid from the chair, silencing the laughter with his lips,  hands stroking down Jack's arms until their fingertips touched and he took the soap. "Perhaps," he murmured, lathering Jack's back, "you could try to speak unambiguously for once."

"That feels wonderful.  How's that fer a distinct lack of ambiguity?  I told ya, Jamie.  I love fine things.  Can't resist 'em.  Must be in the blood, eh?"  Jack ran the wet part of the towel between James' long legs.

"So this is why you insisted on the robe." James shifted back, lathering Jack's chest, teasing with the soapy foam until he could feel the distinct rise of his nipples. "It could also be the rum. Or the wine."

Jack soaked the rest of the towel and rinsed James off, heedless of the carpet because he was far too interested in the way the muscles rode bone under pale skin.  "Well, when you weren't sailin' about commodoring, you made a fine livin'.  You didn't live like some bloody hermit or dull ole Mr. Deacon."

"Point taken. On the other hand, I did not live like a heathen sultan with a matelot." James traced a finger through the soapy foam, trailing it down until it caught in Jack's navel. His robe was already drooping from his shoulders. "A very insistent matelot, at that."

Jack backed up a step, his grin teasing.  "Don't wanna ruffle such a promisin' pirate's feathers.  Just think of it, James!"  He pitched another fresh towel at James and dried himself vigorously.  "Only two raids and yer share is a king's ransom already.  Most of us wait years fer such a haul."  He pulled on a red silk robe carelessly and, as he went to refill their glasses, it was strange how, but for that mad mop, he looked nearly noble.  "Here y'are.  Tell me, luv.  Are you so used to pushin' everything in yer heart down all the time?"  His smile was devilish.

The smile on James' face had faltered a little. "I am no pirate, Jack. I begin to think you do not understand that at all, but I don't want to be one. I will not put myself against the law and the people I have spent my life protecting. What I may push down in my heart I do so for a sake even dearer to me."

"Oh that!"  Jack pouted.  "Don't go all moral on me, luv.  I meant it literally.  Did ya learn it from yer Mum?  Yer Da?  Or is it always like that with gentlemen?  I've always wanted t'know."  He stretched out on the bed, toying with a box he'd left on the nightstand and smiling as if it contained a secret.

For one moment, he reminded James of Matthew, curiously asking about a world he did not understand, playing already with a different toy, but ready to complain loudly if the question was not answered. "I believe it was my first Captain. The one who first taught me the importance of duty and loyalty, of standing true to it."

"English, of course.  He wasn't one o' them Nonconformists, was he?"  Jack laughed.  "Wot else did he teach you?  Did you know how he lived ashore?"  He watched from under his lashes and considered the fact that it was rather silly for him to feel such a dangerous distance between them, circling each other with words.  He decided it was the Equator's fault:  he must be on the north side and James on the south, or perhaps the other way 'round.

James still sat in his chair, spinning thoughtfully. "He was unmarried, I believe. We never spoke of it. What I learnt were mathematics, navigation, and how to be an officer." He put aside his empty glass, rose and climbed into the bed. "And never to turn my back on a pirate."

Jack pushed a pillow behind his back and tugged at his sleeve.  "Lookit this, luv.  I thought they'd be perfect fer you an' Mattie."  He held up a pair of gold hoops.  "And these.  Smell that."  He worked a tiny cork out of a vial and instantly the cabin was filled with the hot, sweet scent of jasmine.

"I think that was precisely the reason not to turn my back on a pirate, to not get any holes in me. And sweet oils on my skin, although I doubt he referred to that."

He rolled over and scowled at the hoops. "What is it with pirates and putting holes into Navymen?"

"Must be a reaction to all the ropes," Jack said dryly.  "I'm surprised it ain't pierced already.  Seen many a Navyman hide 'em with a bit of silk pulled through when ashore.  The barnacle'll love it."

"Doubtless. He is a little like you, a magpie, attracted by all things glittering." James shifted closer and nibbled at Jack's ear. "Do you intend to turn me into a mirror of yourself? Braids, an earring?"

"No, Jamie.  I want you to see yerself as beautiful as I do.  There's somethin' terrible bad about too much civilisation."  Jack pulled another small bottle from the box and the dark scent of the water lingered between them.  "Lovely, innit?  Patchouli.  And this should make yer proper Christian spine melt.  Myrrh oil."

"Do not speak of faith and propriety when I am lying in bed with you without a stitch of clothing on and every intention of removing yours in the course of the night," James warned. "And my opinion on sweet smelling oil stands: too much civilisation."

Jack giggled and rolled onto his side. "Damn, I never thought it possible.  Y'know, James, yer very fine to have around."  He leaned forward, eyes wide.  "Never knew anyone quite like you.  I mean, I've know plenty o' Navy but not like you at all."

For a moment, he was silent, almost serious.  "Wot ya think, luv?  Was all this worth a knock on the head?"

James was silent for a while, thinking through what he had never considered. He nodded firmly. "Yes. I have learnt and seen a lot, including a pirate utterly unlike any I have seen before."

Jack bounded up to retrieve the decanter.  "Want more o' the port?  There's barrels of it.  A fortune packed in straw."  He read James' eyes almost word for thought.  "Yes, I do appraise it all.  Got to, and right quick.  There is no sense gettin' yerself blown t'kindom come over trash.  Of course, I'll need to get the goin' rates back in P'tit Goave.  Business bein' its own kinda pleasure, aye?"  He positively twinkled.

"Jack?" James rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Do not remind me of your business if you can avoid it. Yet, if you know that 'business' as you put it can be pleasure, why do you even bother to try turning me pirate? I take pride in being the Commodore. It is who I am."

Jack grinned.  "And a lot more."  He'd never seen such an opportune moment and took full advantage of it.  When he let James up for air, he was stalking and teasing again.  "I'd never had the pleasure of kissin' a commodore before our acquaintanceship, sir.  You must enlighten me.  Do they all taste like salt and fine port?"

"I fear I must disappoint you, oh esteemed pirate, for I have never kissed a Commodore in all my life. However, logic suggests that salt and port have the same source as rum: prior consumption." James' lips lingered in another kiss. "Why do I feel that the pleasure you have in mind has little to do with business?"

"Got it in one, mate."  Jack slid beneath him, the silk slipping between their legs.  He had dreams of dipping James in honey and making a business of licking it off him, but that, being a very sticky process, was better left for some delightfully deserted beach.  He writhed and whispered obscenities with a laugh.

"I wonder how I ever could have thought you unpredictable." Jack answered with another writhe, that sent James gasping, their limbs twining, hair drawing traces on their sweat-slick chests.

Jack giggled when he didn't moan, let himself get dizzy and spiralled into an eastern sky.  They pushed, pulled, and the excessive amount of groaning and grunting made Cooks and Andre, below in the galley, consider banging on the ceiling with the broom handle.

Later there was only the soft rustle of cloth as James pulled up a thin blanket to cover himself. It was hot and Jack slept uncovered, but James had no wish to be found naked in the case of any emergency. He yawned softly and promptly found himself with an armful of pirate.

Jack knew he'd come very close to his goal for the night when he didn't dream.  Of course, he didn't know he wasn't dreaming until he woke to another morning, waiting for wind.  But the blue cast of his mood was gone and he decided that, looking at James, he really hadn't needed to dream.

He was absurdly pleased with himself and the world for days.  Then, a little breeze blew in to cool his overheating brain and sent the Chimaera speeding west-northwest.

Leave a Comment
(If you're commenting about a specific chapter, please mention that.)

Read Comments
(Warning: May contain spoilers!)