From Mother's Water to Mother's Water: The island of Aneka'kapo (which is Carib for Necklace of the Gods) and the birth of Seamus's little... (not tellin'! :P gotta read to know.) Plus a litte tail... er tale of Jack's reason for chooseing Aneka'kapo for their haven. For the record: La Rouge is French and means 'The Red' and is the name Genevieve, the captain of the Widow sails under. Gris is also French and means grey. Now you can 'get' the joke.
Apologies up front. This is about where I left off. I've started chapter four but haven't been able to get back to it. I'll tack it on the end here when/if I do and post a note at the top of my main page to let you know.
Chapter The Third: From Mother's Water to Mother's Water
Jack sat on a chair on the quarterdeck, his bare feet stretched out in front of him, propped up on the wheel block, staring out at the ocean beyond the tiny inlet of the lagoon with a glass of rum in his hand. He was bare-chested, wearing only the battiked sarong he always wore whenever they returned to the little Arawak island. His bronzed brown locks blew unbound in the light breeze, yet another inconsistency with life on deck for him. The brown rims of his eyes were little more than outlines to the inner blue as he tried to ignore the scream from the water behind him, focused instead upon the contents of the glass, its color and quality. Behind him lay a sandbar, then a stretch of azure lagoon, then the curving white beach of Aneka'kapo. Most of the small crew had gone ashore weeks ago, were enjoying the hospitality of the native village. He and his son were alone on the ship, riding peacefully at anchor in the deepest part of the water. Another scream rent the afternoon air and he gripped his glass tighter, moved it away from his face and eyes just in case the cry reached the dangerous pitches he knew it could. Then he realized that if the glass in his hand shattered, so would the amber eye patch he wore. He quickly pulled it off and set it beside him on the deck next to the rum glass. He pressed the heels of his palms his eyes. "Dad, it's killing her!" his son exclaimed. He was standing on the rail's lower lip, leaning out over the rail staring into the water below him. He, too, had surrendered his normal clothes for native attire and his skin was beginning to tan in places it did not normally get to. Jack sighed, picked up his glass again. "Son, I know from personal experience that your mother can handle a great deal more pain than that." He closed his mind to the incidents he had witnessed, told himself that this was very different. Seamus turned on the rail, gave him a long studying look. He decided not to ask. "That'd be best, boy," Jack said with a small nod, having guessed what he was thinking. "Best all around not to have to repeat that story. Bad enough to have lived it," he added in a mutter. He flexed his left hand, watched the single, faint scar across the back of it turn whiter as the skin stretched. Seamus resolved then to ask Penn or Marklain about the matter. They knew all the old stories about his parents, having lived through most of them. "Aren't we a bit close? And ain't Anjali an' that Ara'wak woman takin' a big risk bein' that close? What if she were to hit higher pitches?" Jack chuckled. "Your grandmother is down there. Your mother won't get within an octave of dangerous. So don't fret." Seamus's eyes narrowed, shrewdly taking in all the details: the glass held limply in a hanging hand, away from the body; the eye patch on the deck. "So why'd you take your eye patch off?" he asked casually. Jack glanced over his shoulder at him, took a deep, tired breath. "Never you mind." Seamus turned back to watch. "Anything yet?" Jack asked, sipping his rum. "No, sir. But it's a bit crowded down there. Can't see much anyway." Both were silent for a while. The only sounds were the waves gently lapping the hull of the ship and the nearby shore, the seabirds and the panting outbursts of the woman in the water. "Did I... hurt her that much?" Seamus asked suddenly. Jack did not look over, mulled over the question. "I wouldn't know," he finally confessed. "I wasn't there." He was aware of his son's accusing eyes upon him again. "You have to understand, son. You came early. You know that scar on your thigh?" Seamus's hand drifted to it without thinking. "Yes, sir." Jack leaned his head against the back of the chair, remembering that night, watching the reefed sails hanging above him. "Well, we were on our way t' this island in the South Pacific, the island where I was born, when we were taken by surprise by pirates. Before your mother could go overboard she was hit by a falling spar. I had no idea at the time, but that spar pierced her belly, and even she did not know yet that it had reached you. Tortuga threw her overboard and your mother was lucky there was a passing pod of whales to play midwife. By the time the fight was over and I was able to get to your mother, it was all over. If she screamed she was either too far underwater or the cannons too loud for me to hear it. I got both of you out of the water as quickly as I could. Didn't want to risk sharks being attracted to the afterbirth. If we had known you were injured we would have left you in the water longer. As it was...," he shrugged. "You were already out of danger and we did not discover the scar until the next morning, and by then, no amount of dunking you would make it go away. The Mercy's marked ye, lad. Be proud of that scar." Seamus frowned, having heard something altogether different from the lagoon, looked. "Uh, dad..." Jack looked over, saw the boy staring over the side and got up, setting his glass on the deck and crossed to the rail. He looked down into the shallower waters over the sandbar about twelve feet from the hull of the ship. The three midwives were standing hip deep, staring into the crystal clear water beneath them. Anjali was washing her hands, as was the Arawak woman. Lorelei was shifting. She looked up to the quarterdeck, waved them down, beaming, swimming off the far side of the sandbar. Jack could just make out Sirene's fins between the women's bodies as she began drifting below the surface to the slightly deeper water on the other side of the bar. "Come on, son. Let's go meet that siblin' o' yorn." They both hopped up onto the rail, jumped straight down, close to the hull. As they entered the water, their bodies melted into the change and they glided up the incline of the bottom to the shallower waters where Sirene had given birth. Jack had to wonder though. She had done it like the natives here, in her legs and half submerged. Her mother and Anjali had taken turns keeping her head above water whilst the native midwife had guided the proceedings. When Seamus was born, Sirene had taken him to the surface immediately. This time she remained submerged. The news could not be bad though, or Lorelei would not be smiling. When they finally came up to her, Sirene was floating several feet below the surface over brilliantly colored coral shoals. A few curious parrotfish swam nearer, flicked away at their approach. Young pilot fish and wrasses were already cleaning the babe. Sirene's silvery hair flared around her like a mantle, glimmering in the clear water. She smiled weakly at them as they swam up beside her. Fish darted away, watched from nearby. Jack drew back the curtain of her hair to see the small babe curled up to her breast, already feeding. Seamus's eyes grew wide. The baby had a tail. "Hey, that's not fair!" he exclaimed. "Why's she got fins?" "Good, question, son," Jack murmured, stroking the tiny arm with a finger, taking note of the faint shadow of stripes crossing her back. He frowned to himself, noting that the boy had known immediately the child was female, though he himself could see no difference. But then, even after fourteen years of wearing his own scales, he had never bothered to compare fins. Nor, now that he thought about it, had he ever met a male of the species. Lorelei glided under her daughter and came up behind her head to smile down at the silvery child. She began to gather Sirene's hair and pull it back out of the way. "How are you feeling, dearest?" Sirene smiled wanly, "I'll survive. But I'll be honest. Given the choice... next time I'll do it the way the whales showed me. It was easier." Jack was appalled at how weak her voice was. "Are you sure yore all right, luv? You don't sound it." "I'll... be fine," she smiled at him. "I just need a few hours in the lagoon is all." "If yore sure..." he began. "Gramma, why does she have fins?" Seamus asked, reaching out and timidly touch the filmy, colorless caudal. He jumped back, surprised by the speed and strength of the baby's reaction, the tail jerking out of his grasp and slapping at him. Lorelei frowned at her granddaughter, her sapphire eyes flashing as she thought. "I am not sure yet. And no, you weren't," she answered before he could ask if he had been born with fins. "But, we have named the little fry, yes?" Sirene nodded, looked over at Jack for him to answer. She was just too tired. "Her name is Mercy." Lorelei smiled. "I like it. Now, will it be Wyndlam or Taft? Or Wyndlam-Taft?" she added facetiously. Sirene glared up at her mother. "It will be Wyndlam, like her father and her brother." Lorelei giggled. She knew the way the matter sat between the two of them, who wanted what. It did not matter one whit to her whether or not her daughter married her surface-bound lover. Nor did she think it was going to matter much to the newborn. She herself was only married to Lord Hamilton because she liked him a great deal and he needed it. What did a few decades of marriage to a land-born matter compared to the centuries she had already lived and would yet swim the seas? It amused her to needle the handsome Jack, knowing how much he wanted 'legal binding'. A need that seemed to have grown rather than diminished over the years. "Ah, so be it," she sighed with mock resignation. "Well, if the little one has had her fill, and we can borrow someone's pearl to shift her fins to feet, I think it is time we took her to the chief to show her off. Maname was asking." Sirene nodded, having noticed that the child had let go a moment or so before. She released the baby, sank just a bit lower and watched as she wiggled, her little side fins waving non-stop. Jack reached out his hands to her, beamed as she first sniffed his fingers, then curled up around his hand, clinging to him. Pulling her close to his chest, he shot for the surface, followed by Lorelei and his son. Seamus offered up his ring. "Here, use mine," he said, holding out the pearl ring that was his most prized possession. Jack smiled, proud of his son and pleased by the look of brotherly love and fascination on his face. He had been a little worried the boy might resent the newborn, with so many years between them. Jack slipped the ring over one of the girl's thumbs, held her above the water and blew it dry. The pearl began to glow faintly, and the tiny tail began to shrink and split. Mercy began to scream, thrashing in his arms. Jack had to struggle to keep her fist far enough above the water for the ring to work, tried to shush the child. "S'alright, luv. I know it hurts... I know. But i's necessary." Once her shiny scales were plump little legs, he pried the ring from her grasp, which she was now clenching in fury, and handed it back to his son. The baby was having a fit. Lorelei glided over, taking the baby from him and began crooning in a language Jack had never heard. Mercy became quietly immediately, staring up at her grandmother with wide, dark eyes. "I'm not even gonna ask how ye managed that," Jack sighed, "but thank ye." He was feeling kind of calm himself, now that he thought about it. Lorelei smiled. "Do you want to go, or do you want to stay here with Sirene?" she asked. Jack thought about it a moment, looked down into the water to where Sirene floated, lying still in the warm current letting the cleaner fish do their work. "It's not really customary with this tribe for the parents to present the babe. That'd be her job," he nodded towards the Arawak midwife waiting patiently on the sandbar. "Though sometimes a family member can do it," he said looking at Seamus. "Like an older sibling..." Seamus's eyes lit up. "Could I?" "Yes, son. You can. Your mother needs a few more hours of healing time and I should stay with her. She should be out of the water by the time the little fry gets hungry again." Seamus gently took his sister from his grandmother, holding her as if she were some sacred and delicate object. His eyes locked on the dark blue ones in his arms, he followed the shadow of his grandmother to the midwife, pausing to blow on his pearl and stepping up onto the sand in the hip-deep water. Jack watched the little procession head for the beach. His presence would not be expected at the small ceremony, not on the day of the birth. He had seen enough of these little rites over the years; been present for a few. Rarely did either parent bring the child forth. There would be a party later that night which both he and Sirene would be expected to attend, but until then... he was free to spend a few hours alone with her. Without another thought, he dove. That evening, when Jack and Sirene finally stepped on land and walked into the sprawling Arawak village, they were greeted by several old friends. Captain La Rouge and the core crew of the Widow were waiting for them around the bonfire, already doting on Seamus and the babe he was holding. Mary jumped up and hugged Sirene, squealing her joy. "She's so beautiful!" she cried. "Oui," smiled Genevieve, pulling her first mate off the tired mother. "She ees. Marie!" she hissed. "Let ze poor woman breathe, ma' petite chou. Besides, ze baby probably needs to eat." "Oh! Of course," she exclaimed, making room for the parents to sit near them. Seamus brought the strangely quiet child over to his mother. The baby was trying to look at everything, allowed herself to be passed from person to person. But when her fingers latched onto the silky white strands of her mother's hair, she immediately began rooting for food. Sirene obliged her, spreading her hair like a screen over the child, not for her own modesty, but for the sake of the few crewmen coming to pay their respects. Marklain blushed, but handed Sirene a large tropical blossom. Over the years of coming to this island, he had grown used to seeing half naked women, though he was always respectful when it came to the Captain's woman. Penn was not far behind him, looking more grizzled than ever with his new eye patch. He brought a cradle he had made by converting an old cask. It had been a small barrel, but more than big enough for the infant. He had even framed it for hanging in the cabin, so that even the worst seas would not rock the child too hard. Sirene thanked him, looked him over. One of the village widows had been taking care of his eye for him. Unfortunately nothing could be done about his hearing. "Are you sure you want to stay here?" she asked him, making sure she spoke into his good ear. He smiled. "Aneka'kapo's been kind t' me," he said, glancing over at the widow who was watching him like a hawk. She was almost as grizzled as he was, and twice as surly. "Well, not soft, but better'n England. I can't verra well aim straight wit' on'y one eye, ma'am. I cain't hear orders shouted in combat. I ain't much fer cookin' an' I be a mite too old t' be scrubbin' an' sandin'. I ain't no use t' the Lady no more. I knows when t' reef m' sails, I do." "If you're sure." "Gonna miss ye, ye old salt," Jack sighed, giving the man a clap on the shoulder. "Oh, it ain't like I'm gonna be outta yer life. I'll still be watchin' ye like a hawk from shore, I will," he chuckled. "You do that. You sure Rabine is ready to handle my guns?" he asked with narrowed eyes. The two men gazed over to where the gunner in question was laying down with his head in the lap of some native girl, being fed by one of her three sisters. "Oh, methinks he'll do. I've taught him all I can. He respects th' guns at least, and that's important. An' Ol' Betsy'll fire for 'im." "Well, zat ees somesing at least," Genevieve chuckled. "Fair winds an' followin' seas, matey." "An' ye, lass," he nodded to Mary. When she giggled, he realized it had been the red-head in the Captain's coat who had spoken to him. "Sorry, Capitane," he grinned, tipping an non-existent hat. "Ye was on me deaf side." With that he wandered over to where Marklain waited for him and sat on the sand in front of an old woman who immediately put a plate before him and began to fuss with his hair and eye patch. Jack turned back to the two mistresses of the Widow. Mary still looked fairly fresh, more like late twenties than early thirties. Vieve was beginning to show her age, though gracefully. She still cut quite an imposing figure in men's clothing. Jack fingered one of the tight, copper tresses that had been released from the confines of her broad, feathered hat. "La Rouge seems to be getting a little bit Gris," he chuckled. She popped his hand, glared at him but with good humor. "Well, not all of us are lucky enough t' 'ave ze blood of ze sea in our veins to keep us young," she growled. She looked up as Anjali came over carrying plates of food for the new parents. "Ah, Anji!" she exclaimed. "You once tole me zat your people 'ave a way to make 'air red again?" "Henna, aye. I can do your hair before ye leave," she grinned. "Mali!" she yelled. A dark skinned little boy of about four or five hurried over, a large platter balanced on his head. He stood beside his mother so that she could serve what he had brought. Once the tray was empty she sat down with her plate and his and made him sit and eat. The festivities began with the feast, was followed by a great deal of dancing, some of which Anjali took part in. The entire village was arrayed around the bonfire to watch or participate. The aging chief and his family sat on their front porch in imported rattan chairs which Jack had brought them years ago. Jack and 'Vieve were seated on the opposite side of the fire, their respective crews lounging to either side of them, though more than a few of the Widow's female crew were sporting with the men of the Ransom. The villagers filled the areas in between, mingling and enjoying the company. Several casks of their infamous fermented coconut milk were opened and emptied, guaranteeing that the revelers would be enjoying themselves deeply. Jack allowed Seamus a sip of the potent brew, laughed when he made a face at it. Sirene glared at him, but he just saluted her with the mug. "At least one of 'em 'll sleep through the night this way," he crowed. A shadow loomed over them. Jack looked up, saw the chief's son, Nanapo standing in front of him. "Yes, Napo?" he asked in the man's native tongue. "You. Me. We wrestle," he said in clipped English. Jack groaned, but kissed his woman and got up. "All right, ye pup. But ah warn ye, I'll not go easy on ye just cause yore Chief Ponahi's chief whelp," he groaned. Genevieve had long since shed her Captain's coat and hat, sat with her arms wrapped openly around Mary from behind. Together they watched the two men struggle to throw and pin each other. Seamus watched little Mali out of the corner of his eye, reaching for his father's abandoned cup. He grinned as the boy's father, Tortuga, snatched him up by the scruff and rolled backwards over their log seat to gently roughhouse the boy. Mali squealed with mock terror and laughter, yelling in pidgin blend of Hindi and Malagasy that had Anjali nearly choking with laughter. Sirene glanced over her shoulder at the pair, gave a soft chuckle and reached for the cup herself. Genevieve paused in her cheering on of Jack to give her a raised eyebrow. "He has a point. This way they both sleep," Sirene said, rocking the cradle at her feet with a toe. 'Vieve shrugged and turned back to watch the fighting. It was a good-natured match, both men laughing as they struggled for a good grip. Almost everyone was watching. Some of the crews moved closer to the Captain's seat for a better view. The two men went several rounds. Jack would pin Nanapo who would attempt to break free for a moment before conceding. Then they would break, dust off and come at each other again, only to find Jack on the bottom. They danced all around the fire. At one point they kicked up dirt over some of the chief's daughters. They paused a brief second to apologize before making an attempt to take advantage of each other's distraction. The daughters then began to yell in earnest, cheering on one or the other. Their father just laughed. After about a half hour, both men seemed to be flagging a little, from heat, exertion and drink. Seamus leaned against his mother's thigh, letting her fingers unconsciously work out the tangles from his golden brown curls. His eyes glittered as he watched the fight, seeing it in an entirely different way than anyone else. He was watching the colors dance. He was fascinated, like a drunk staring at a candle flame. Their lights were blue and a little magenta near the edges. Napo was a bit green in places, and his father a tarnished gold, but there was no anger or malice in either of them. He learned to guess when one of them was going to surrender by watching the fluctuations in their lights. They flared brighter as they resisted, dimmed minutely when they gave in to the realization they couldn't break the hold. Then he noticed something in his father. Napo made a move, feinted and came at Jack with a foot sweep instead of an arm grab. But he did not notice the usual flux of color that normally followed surprise in his father. Yet Jack leaned back to avoid the arm only to fall prey to the leg. There was a subtle ripple that said Jack was bracing for the fall, without the spike of surprise. Seamus frowned as Napo got a lock on his father whose lights showed immediate surrender without even a hint of real struggle. He shifted his sight back to normal, watched them shake hands, dusting themselves and each other off before Napo returned to the porch strutting in triumph and Jack eased himself back down with his family. "Dad?" he asked, handing him a skin of water. "Yes, son?" Jack breathed, leaning back between Sirene's legs, draping his arms over her knees. He took the skin and drank deeply. Seamus lowered his voice, not wanting any of the natives to pay much attention to what he was saying. "Why did you let him win?" Jack nearly choked on the water, turned to look at his son. Then he laughed, reached over and tousled his hair. "Noticed that, did you?" "Well?" he asked, not willing to be put off. Jack regarded him for a moment, then took another swig of water. "Why do you think I would?" he responded, leaning back and letting Sirene rub his temples. He moved his arms off her thighs and slipped them underneath her long white legs, began to casually massage her calves. The handful of crew who had gathered near watched the boy puzzle it out. Some of them wanted the answer for themselves. Seamus looked over to where Nanapo sat with his sisters next to his father. There were several non-related young women fawning over him, rubbing his brown muscles. "Because he's going to be th' next chief," he deduced. "An' ye want t' make sure ye're on sound footing with him when that happens." "Very good," Jack smiled. As Sirene leaned over and kissed the top of her son's head, Jack noted the need for further explanation in the faces of the newest of his crew. He reached over and checked on the baby, made sure she was sleeping snug in her cradle, wrapped in the blanket that Chief Ponahi had given her. He glanced over at Penn, spoke louder, "Why don't you explain it, Mr. Penn?" Penn had long been the ship's storyteller; a skill they would soon sorely miss. Penn cleared his throat, wet it with a bit of the coconut liquor. "Unless ye manage t' anger th' gods, once yer chosen t' be chief o' this tribe yer chief fer life. Or until ye can't n'more. Yer son be given th' first shot as it were, but mostly th' tribe choses th' next chief. An' they be most likely t' pick th' man with th' best leadership skills, th' man what they like best, what seems strong enough t' protect 'em. Ye see young Napo's problem?" Some nodded, Rabine frowned, glanced over at Mr. Lucas who just shrugged. Penn sighed. "Unless he can show that he's better at thing's than th' Captain. Like as not they'll choose him instead." "And neither of us wants that," Jack sighed. The cradle beside him began to rock erratically as the baby started to fidget. He began to nudge it in a more gentle rhythm until she settled down. "Note that he's been challengin' me t' all sorts o' games o' late? He an' I have an agreement. I make him look th' better choice an' he don' make me look bad in front o' me woman... an' crew," he added hastily. He winked. "Th' woman part he understands more." "But... why would they consider you at all?" asked Paulette, one of the gunners from the Widow. "I mean, we're welcome right enough, but... you're an outsider. Wouldn't they prefer one o' their own? What with all the trouble they've had with the French and the Caribs." Jack sat up, reached for a nearby rum bottle, took a long swig and breathed deep. "Looks like I have a story t' tell m'self," he sighed. People who had been standing found places to sit. Mary made room for Dr. Lawrence. Tortuga pulled Anjali onto his lap to make room for Lorelei who had slipped up silently with another woman behind her. Even some of the natives planted themselves to hear the tale. Jack raised his voice, pitching it to carry in the manner he had noted Penn did when spinning yarns on deck. "Some o' ye might recollect th' tales o' me an' the Mercy's Ransom years back. Some o' ye might be a bit t' young," he grinned, tossing the rum bottle to Rabine. "'Bout Fifteen years or so ago, we were caught in a hurricane a few hundred miles off th' coast o' Barbados. Well, one o' th' mates, a rotten German bastard, attempted t' murder me. He waylaid me wit' a bloody belayin' pin and tossed me overboard." "Had a bad habit of that," Sirene mused, playing with Jack's hair. "Worse habit of not making sure they were dead first." "Well, that came back t' haunt 'im, didn' it?" Mary laughed. Others laughed as well, and 'Vieve shushed her and kissed the top of her curly head. "Aye, well, that be a different story entire, an' not th' one I'm tellin'. Too many o' ye've heard that one." "I not," yawned a sleepy but wide-eyed voice beside Tortuga's knee. Anjali reached over and gave one of his little braids a light tug and shushed him. Jack chuckled, glancing over at the lad and winked. "Ask Seamus. He loves that one." He turned back to his audience. "This story is one that hasn't been told but maybe onct, an' only a handful o' souls even know it. Not even Penn knows this one." The gathering grew still and quiet. "I washed up on this little island," he began, gesturing with his hands. "I was as good as marooned, but without even a pistol or shot. I didn't even have a knife t' hand. I survived four years on that..." he glanced up at his audience, taking note of the number of Arawak listeners and changed the adjective he had been about to use, "little sliver o' paradise. I lived on what the island provided, which did not include anything that might have served me fer a sea-worthy craft. Something must have been watchin' over me, though. As that little island is the jewel in this 'Necklace of the Gods' that is Aneka'kapo. It's th' residence o' one o' th' tribe's goddesses. An' every ten years th' members o' this tribe," he said, waving his hand at the darker faces in the audience, "travel t' that island en masse to worship her an' harvest this rare orchid what only blooms once a decade an what only grows on that little spit o' land. Four years inta me exile, they row over, come t' lay flowers an' offerin's at th' goddess's feet on'y t' find me sleepin' there instead!" There were gasps of shock and spurts of laughter. "They didn't kill ye?" asked one, obviously too drunk to realize the stupidity of the question. Jack laughed. "I can't say I wasn' convinced they wasn' gonna serve me up fer dinner. Chief Ponahi wasn't entirely sure what t' make o' me. Here I was... potentially profanin' their temple. What did I know? It was the on'y solid shelter on th' bloody rock! I tried lean-tos, but they wouldn' hold up t' th' weather. An' without a metal knife I couldn't make a better one. Lucky fer me, the chief's eldest sister, who was th' tribe's witch, stepped forward and did her little hokey pokey," he grinned, wiggling his fingers exaggeratedly, "an' said that if th' goddess t'were offended by m' presence, she'd've slain me in m' sleep." He paused t' take a swig of the rum bottle being passed around. "Well. Here I am, in th' midst o' this tribe o' Arawak, thinkin' they might be Caribs... what did I know back then, eh? I barely spoke th' tongue." He glanced up at the chief who had had his chair moved closer, grinned. "Not that his English was all that much better," he laughed. The chief laughed with him, remembering. "What's the difference?" asked Polly. "I mean, Carib, Arawak? The languages are very similar, the people from the same string of islands." Jack shook his head. "Big difference, luv." Sirene answered for him. "The Carib often have a highly developed taste for what they call the 'long pig'. The Arawak do not profane themselves thus." "Long pig?" someone frowned. Seamus stirred. "People. Supposedly we taste a lot like pork... only sweeter." There were a few raised eyebrows in his direction. He frowned, "What?" he protested. When he caught his father's glance he growled. "Yore the one what brought him on board, even if it was only t' trade fer safe water." "Aye, but yore the one what asked what we taste like," he growled back, taking a deep swig before passing the bottle. He cleared his throat. "Where was I?" Ponahi chuckled, "My English." "Ah, right! Well, let's just say they wined me and dined me, but didn't dine on me," he smirked. "An' took me back here, to Aneka'kapo. From whence I was given a dugout an' supplies to get me t' Barbados from which point, the rest is old history, a different tale entire and not one relevant to my current relation." Jack took a deep breath, held it trying to still a hiccup which was threatening. "Some years later," he finally continued, having squelched the hiccup into a sort of burp. "We returned to said island, this one, not the forbidden one," he added hastily, raising a finger in the Chief's direction. "Just as the chief's bonny an' rather ...er, eh... nimble sister predicted. Seamus was about a year old then. We didn' know she was that island, not at the time," he chuckled, rubbing his bad eye sheepishly. "We were sore in need of shelter an' fresh water an' fruit and slipped into yon lagoon. T'wasn't until we'd traipsed inland an' run across the village that we realized our mistake. So's I decided... we're here, they're bound to find out sooner or later, let's just march in an' ask fer what we need. Fry me barnacles for a salt fritter but it wasn' me ol' pal Chief 'Pon on high'. Though he gave me a run fer it fer a few, cause I wasn' sure I was rememberin' thin's correctly." "Considering the condition you were in when you met them the first time?" Sirene teased. "Especially," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "Coconut liquor on an empty stomach... along wit' whatever else it was that witch sister o' yorn fed me," he chuckled. The Chief just tilted his head in acquiescence. "Well, havin' been blessed by th' gods an' all years b'fore, and bein' shallow enough to th' draft t' berth in yon lagoon, the great, wise an' mighty chief Ponahi offered this place to me an' mine fer haven. Which is why ye all have t' keep this secret, an' protect this slice o' paradise. Cause no matter what wars may rage out on them waters... or not, no matter what kings an' queens in far off places have t' say about things, those wars don' touch this piece o' heaven. One day them same kings might decide we're inconvenient t' know. Might even hand us over t' the very blighter's we spent decades harassin' as part o' a peace treaty. Then we're not Privateers but good honest Pirates again and we'll need a safe place t' hide. So we keep the chiefs happy. We bring them tribute from the outside world," he said, waving his hand to the chair the chief was perched on, then to the fine fabrics his daughters were draped in. "We protect them from all those horrors, bringing them only those bits what makes for an easier life, and in exchange, we have a place to come home to. A place to retire to," he added, nodding at Penn. "Hear hear!" Penn shouted. His words were echoed by some of the crew, which only prompted him to shake his head and loudly protest, "No! I meant I can't over here!" he clarified, holding his hand next to his bad ear; which had everyone laughing, including the less than sober ex-Master Gunner. The audience devolved into various chatter, and the natives seemed well pleased with the tale. Beside them, Seamus mused, "I remember going to a harvest once. We were here for the last one. I was, what... eight?" "Nine," his mother answered. He looked over at her, frowned even as his father tipped his head back to look up at her. She looked tired and a little wane still. "Looks like someone could use another swim," Jack mused quietly. "Yer light's a little dim." She bent over to kiss his forehead. "I'd rather just sleep in the grotto tonight, but with the babe... who should be getting hungry soon." She glanced over at the cradle in time to see young Mali peeking under the edge of the blanket hanging over the foot of the cask. His eyes went wide and he began to tug on his mother's braid. "Momi!" he hissed. "Someone been naughty! Dey stuck a fish in wit' de baby!" Anjali scowled, slid off her husband's lap and lifted the corner of the blanket herself. She swiftly tucked the blanket in around the child, swaddling her tight before picking her up and passing her over to her grandmother. Sirene watched as she bent into Lorelei's ear; saw her mother take a deep breath and roll her eyes in exasperation. They exchanged a few more words before Lorelei got up and began walking back towards the lagoon with the child and a strange, dark haired woman Sirene had never seen before. Anjali bent to Seamus, telling him to collect the cradle and follow his grandmother, then whispered something in Jack's ear. Jack looked up at her, incredulous. "How?" he gaped. "Don' ask me! Ask her mother," she exclaimed, pointing at Sirene. Before Sirene could ask what they were talking about and what was going on, Jack stood up. "Well, it's been a lovely soiree, but I think the mother needs a bit more rest before she's seaworthy, so... if you will excuse. Chief, memorable as always," he grinned. "You mean you remember that first one?" the old man chuckled. Jack rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Come t' think on it, no. But this one..." He swept Sirene into his arms, turned to face the others. "Ta!" Genevieve managed to whisper to him amid everyone else wishing them a fair night. "Meet with me in ze morning. I've news from Barbados." He frowned, but Sirene answered for him. "Then why didn't you...." "It wasn't ze right moment. And it will keep til morning." "My cabin, Eight," Jack nodded. "Go, get some rest," Mary interrupted, giving them a little push. "An' take care of that darlin' little angelfish o' yorn." Seamus rolled his eyes as he pushed between them carrying the cradle. "You don't know the half of it!" They caught up with Lorelei and the baby at the water's edge beside the longboats and the rows of the villagers' dugouts. She was sitting in the Mercy's cockboat next to the other woman, who had the baby and was cooing over her. Sirene insisted on being put down, which Jack did on seeing the other woman. Sirene held onto the side of the boat for support, letting the warm salty water replenish her reserves. "Ligeia," he accused, hands on his hips. She looked up at him, admired his nearly naked body. "That looks much more comfortable," she grinned, making a reference to their last conversation about his 'stuffy clothes'. Sirene looked from Jack to the woman to her mother to her son who was standing next to the boat dumbfounded. "Your grandmother?" she asked. "My what?" Seamus squeaked. The dark haired woman looked over, grinned at Seamus as if she could 'just eat him up' and not in a good way. "Oh, this must be the older one! Such a young otter pup! Hmm, can see a lot of his father in him... but his mother's eyes. Girl's gonna have her father's though. You mark my words. The blue part I think." "Your great grandmother, son," Jack explained, taking the cradle from him and setting it in the boat. "A woman who swam all the way from the Mediterranean to deliver me a pearl, have a gawk, then vanish on 'holiday' somewhere in the Caribbean for the next decade or so. Didn't even show up to see you," he scowled. Ligeia huffed. "Well you were the one who vanished into the South Pacific without so much as a whale note my way to warn me. I like that you've named this one after your mother though. And that you left out the Ellen part.... I never like that bit. Was your grandfather's idea. Who was I to argue... it was not like I was going to get to raise her." "Why not?" Seamus frowned. No one had ever mentioned this part of the story. No one answered him. "Mother," Sirene began. She paused, nodded to Ligeia, "Nice to meet you at last, by the way, but... mother, what is wrong with Mercy? You whisked her off so fast... and Mali said something about..." It hit her then what the problem was. She pulled the boat towards her so that she could take the child from Ligeia. She unwrapped the blankets; saw the silvery tail flopping against her arm even as the baby began reaching for her breast. The swaddling was still wrapped around her loosely. "How?" "That's what I asked," Jack sighed. "Must have kicked off her swaddling." "But without a pearl?" she exclaimed, pulling her choli loose. "It's... impossible." "No, it's not," Ligeia simpered. "I do it all the time." "I suspected something like this earlier this afternoon," Lorelei sighed, setting a hand on the other woman's shoulder to cool her down. "Suspected what?" Sirene hissed. The baby's tail flapped happily against her cradled arms as she suckled. "She's a throwback," her mother explained patiently. "You're not gonna throw her back after all that?!" Seamus squeaked. Lorelei's laugh reverberated over the water. Even Ligeia laughed. "Oceans, no, child! I meant... she's... how best to put it?" "I have always found blunt to be the clearest, if not the most tactful way of putting things," Jack frowned, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "Yes, I've noticed," she mused. "Very well then: Unlike either of her parents, this little fry is fully of the scale." "You mean..." Sirene began, looking up. "Yes," Ligeia injected. "She is a 'throw back' to her ancestors. More like them than her parents. You two are very lucky." Seamus frowned. "More mer than me?" Lorelei smiled at him, reached out to stroke his hair. "Oh, yes. But you are still very special, my boy. Every mermaid in the Seven will be chasing after you in a few years. They'd have been after your father but for a few well placed whale songs and dolphin sent warnings," she grinned, with a knowing wiggle of her delicate eyebrows. "That and Ligeia. She may be a bubblehead, but she's not a maid to be crossed, let me tell you. There are even a few older among us who will not tangle with her when she's worked up a froth." "Bubblehead?!" she exclaimed, beginning to puff up. Lorelei remained calm, leaned over to her. "Face it, dear. I love you like the deep, but," she sighed, "...there are times... agreeing to go inland when you're five months pregnant? Really, dear. You were hardly an untried maid. You should have known better." Ligeia seemed to simmer down a bit, unable to find any flaws in the logic. Sirene looked from one mermaid to the next. "So she will have... the Voice, the change... every thing?" she asked. Lorelei stroked her cheek. "Yes, my dear. You will have your hands full with this one. She will prefer tails to legs and cry not when she's wet, but because she's feeling dry. She'll start swimming and exploring long before human children even learn to walk or crawl halfway decent. And when you force her into skin, she'll grow frustrated because her legs don't work as well as her fins. That and..." she looked up at Jack, "you're not immune to the power of the Voice. She's going to have you wrapped around her little flipper before she's Mali's age." "Lucky you the full force of it doesn't hit until puberty," Ligeia added, stepping over the side of the boat and shifting. "Nice little lagoon you've got here." "I suppose that means we can sleep in the grotto tonight?" Jack sighed. He had his hands full already with one stubborn child. Right now the last thing he needed was to contemplate the rigors of trying to raise a merchild out of the water. He didn't even want to consider that Sirene might do what her mother had done... leave him for a life fully under the sea for the sake of the child. "I would recommend it," Lorelei advised. Seamus looked down at the cradle in the boat. "Good thing that thing's waterproof..." he frowned. Jack groaned as the thought occurred to him. "Son, a cradle won't do us a whole lot of good down in the grotto, where she can just float off if she takes a mind to." "One word for you," Ligeia grinned. "Nets." Jack pulled a face as he thought about it. "No, dad," Seamus said. "I meant, we can fill it with seawater and hang it in the cabin, when we're on board." Jack's mind summoned up a vision of another, larger barrel used for the same purpose more than a decade ago; Sirene's still body curled up inside it as she healed. Unfortunately that vision also called to mind what had happened after that and he forcibly dismissed it from his mind. "Very savvy, lad. Very savvy."
The story is coming along very nicely. Jack is going to be in so much trouble when Mercy grows up though, and I really like that It's also nice to see that Seamus isn't jealous of his baby sister. I have to say that when I first saw you had updated I was really happy, but couldn't do anything about it because I had to study for finals. More buckets of sweets for Clio, so she will be tempted to let you update more.
Oh and first comment smirk Sandra Leigh Wagner replies: "thanks. We'll see. Maybe after the holidays she'll have calmed down...."
Oh, the bliss! Just for the record, 'Gris' is 'Grey' in Spanish too. Other than that insignificant remark, the only thing I can say in response to ch 3 is "more?" The puns were great, the possibliites are making me want to keep reading to see how you shape this story. Magnificent, as usual! *gives Clio fresh mango salsa* *forgets the chips* Sandra Leigh Wagner replies: "thank you. Though Unfortunately, CLio's jumped ship on this one for a while. I'll get back to it eventually, but right now she wants to write about dragons."
ooooooohhhh i hadnt read this part yet! must be about the time my old email stopped working and i wasnt getting your updates anymore...
Clio!! Hurry UP with those dragons!! or at least something!! I dont care which story, just as long as there is something! Sandra Leigh Wagner replies: "by the way. It’s not Dragonlade but it IS something new....."
All material posted at Elfwood is covered by the Elfwood Rules. If this page break any rule(s), help us out, and report it to the ERB by clicking here!
All
rights are reserved for the work 'Cots- Chapter3...' by Sandra Leigh Wagner under
Elfwoods all rights reserved copyright policy
License
Main Category: 
Previous...
Dragon
It's also nice to see that Seamus isn't jealous of his baby sister. I have to say that when I first saw you had updated I was really happy, but couldn't do anything about it because I had to study for finals. More buckets of sweets for Clio, so she will be tempted to let you update more. 
