"Contradictions 7 - Freed" Part 4
Jul. 7th, 2005 01:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veronica_richThis is a continuation of a fic. See Part 1 for disclaimers, description, etc.
Under pressure from Viola and Liana, Jack consented to take part in the pairing ceremony. The only other time he’d done so, he’d been one of the five people Randolph had gently turned away, and probably the only one relieved to walk off unchained.
Though San Rafe had been inhabited by escaped slaves and other social castoffs – as well as the rare respectable citizen seeking a quiet life – for nearly half a century, the pairing ceremony had only been going for about twenty years. Long ago, Viola had told him memories from her girlhood, of watching the annual ritual with friends and laughing at some of the results wrought by the older shaman who’d been doing it at that time – the same man who’d begun the custom locally. Only he and Randolph had ever conducted it and, not surprisingly, Randolph had ended up here initially as a guest of the dear, departed witch doctor.
That was how Jack thought of the fellow, May he rest in peace. Turned out lots of the locals disagreed, but then again, they lived with the man and, perhaps, were so desperate to not be alone that they humored and lived by Randolph’s efforts. Jack suffered no such handicap, and harbored enough skepticism to rely more upon his own matchmaking abilities than someone else’s. Besides, it didn’t take much skill for Jack to find a willing wench or lad in port, eager to make a night’s wages if the captain were so disposed, or to simply accommodate him so they’d have a story to tell about fucking a legend.
It didn’t matter he hadn’t been so disposed in well over a year; fact was, he could do it anytime he liked.
“I certainly hope there’s a reward somewhere at th’ end of this,” Jack grumbled as he and Liana made their way to the town square in the fading early evening light.
“Like rum?” He laughed at her assessment. “Mama said that.”
“Well, Mama is absolutely correct. At me age, a little rum isn’ gon’ hurt anything.” He draped a hand across her shoulders and kept his eyes pointed at the hard-packed dirt to avoid tripping over anything in bare feet.
The closer they got, the more dirt gave way to grainy, then soft, white sand. The “town square” was more of a strip than any other type of geometric enclosure, among the island’s few supply stories and booths, and one side was open to the sea from a respectable distance to allow for the tide. A cliff rose sharply a couple hundred yards on the other side of the outermost building, shielding the very bay where Pearl was sleeping – she could be seen from the strip, but even then, just barely, and not at all of a night.
Jack had consented to let the local hairdresser unwind his dreadlocks and get just enough lye scrubbed into his hair to dissolve the sugar-and-honey fixer. He’d managed to protect a lock near his face on which he’d already begun another collection of beads and baubles, including a couple of mineral stones a very bored Will had whittled holes into while stuck in Francois’s brig, to pass the time. His hair hung in damp raven and auburn waves around his shoulders, just long enough to hit him between the shoulder blades, and he wore the traditional garb of ceremony participants – cream-colored linen shirt and loose breeches that came to mid-calf. The material was well-designed, light against his skin and reflecting nighttime heat in the northern Caribbean.
A loose congregation of about two hundred people, including Jack’s crew, were standing about talking, drinking, eating, and making merry in the midst of staked torches when he and Liana arrived. He doubted this would be the full extent of participants, seeing as a good two hundred more lived on the island. Only about twenty other people were dressed similar to Jack, and he brightened.
“Oh, good!” he observed to his daughter. “Won’t last long, and we can get to the festivities, then.”
She shook her head, slapped Jack lightly on the arm, and called, “Luck be with you!” as she took off across the sand for a group of children near a booth selling little cakes. This left Jack looking around for anyone he might know, aside from his crew – several of whom were not taking part in this infernal ceremony, and were smirking in his direction.
“Aren’t you the pretty one?” He turned his head to look into Anamaria’s face. She cocked her head and stepped back to look him up and down. “Let me guess: your daughter’s idea?”
“Viola’s, actually.” Jack shook his head and brushed back some loose hair blowing into his face. “She accused me of bein’ too elitist, said it was settin’ a bad example for Liana. Truly, I don’ think there’s anything wrong with teaching ‘er it’s good to be picky an’ choose your own bed partners, but what do I know?”
“Maybe she just wants you to have fun.”
“Nay, th’ fun comes after. Unless I miss me guess, that’s kegs o’ rum stacked near th’ mercantile, and a few fellows with instruments t’ strike up some lively mood once we’re all quit of this nonsense.” Only then did Jack notice Ana’s cream garb, and quirked the corner of his lips. “You too?”
It was the pirate woman’s turn to shrug. “When you’re the only woman in a crew, sometimes there’s problems. Thought it’d be good to show some of these sods I’m not going to be hopping into their hammocks anytime soon.”
Jack narrowed his eyes, but she shook her head at his frown. “Jack, you can’t stop them, all of them. Besides, I handle myself, and there’s never been anything so bad a few sharp words or a punch to the teeth doesn’t stop it.” Still, Jack ground his jaw; he’d specifically ordered the crew to give Anamaria a wide berth – more for their own safety than hers, admittedly – and if she didn’t seem interested in an initial offer, to back off and let her be.
“Come on.” Ana took his sleeve and directed him to walk beside her toward the circle of white-clad participants – Suckers, all of us! – being herded into loose formation near a clump of torches. Jack gave passing crewmen who catcalled him a raised eyebrow and, when he was certain no children were looking, an upraised middle finger as well. Had he been stricter, he might make note and have them keelhauled later, but he had to admit when he didn’t get roped into this, he too sat back and smirked. Usually while holding a tankard of rum.
Ah, rum. And peace.
“Well, we’re not the only ones, at least.” Ana gestured with a nod, and Jack glanced across the circle to spot Joseph and Stumpy similarly dressed. They were two young bucks always eager to meet new girls, so Jack couldn’t be terribly surprised. What did set him back on his heels was the sight of Will not too far from them, casually conversing with a woman to his left garbed in matching cream shirt and a knee-length skirt.
Jack allowed himself to fix his eyes on the younger man, to actually stare from this distance. His shirt was unbuttoned to the center of his chest, the hem untucked and loose around his hips. Short breeches similar to the other men’s stopped just below his knees, showing off long, slender calves and the tops of unshod feet half-buried in sand. He’d left his hair untied, and the ends sat upon his shoulders, loose wavy curls catching orange glints from the torchlight as he moved his head, laughing over something his neighbor was telling him.
Only Randolph’s voice broke his attention, pulling it back upon himself as he entered the loose circle and climbed up on a wooden crate set there for the purpose. He held up his hands, eventually having a dull roar instead of a cacophony of festivity, and when it had dwindled to just a few voices on the outer fringe of the celebration, he spoke. “I see everyone’s in a good mood tonight,” he spoke mildly, drawing chuckles and a few “Aye!s” from those in attendance. “Well, that’s why we’re here, after all.
“Now I know you would all like to get to the best part, the drinking and dancing, and since we have a small enough crowd for this year’s Pairing Ritual, that shouldn’t be long off.” He cleared his throat. “But perhaps you’d all like to see some matching going on before you settle in with your drink and food?”
A loud cheer went up outside the circle, and Jack couldn’t help shaking his head, grinning. It’d be over soon enough and he could stand back from the circle and smirk at the remaining crewmen left.
Unless, of course, one was Will. The idea of the blacksmith being matched up with some new woman bothered him more than the possibility of him with Elizabeth ever had, perhaps because that hadn’t seemed likely from the get-go, given their backgrounds and social limitations. Here, there were a plethora of eligible, attractive young women, none of whom were beyond Will Turner’s strata or reach.
“For those who’re new this year, here’s what I do: I go around and pick those as I feel not ready for the ceremony just yet, and they’ll back off into the crowd. Now this doesn’t mean,” he turned, facing the other side of the crowd, “this doesn’t mean those good people shouldn’t be with someone, just that they’re not ready, or that a match doesn’t exist here.
“Some have asked how I have the authority to do this.” He chuckled, and a fair amount of the crowd laughed, too; a few couples even raised their hands into the air and called support and approval for Randolph. “All I can say is it’s a gift I have, just like a doctor might be able to cure the sick, or a poet compose the perfect verse. I’ve not disappointed yet …” He cast his eyes around the circle. “Though, I suppose there’s always a first time.”
More snickering, and he waited for it to die down before concluding. “Nobody here tonight’s obligated. Though, it’d be a shame for me to do all this work just to see any of you back in my circle next spring.” A few of the better-known cads were good-naturedly catcalled by their friends and family, including Jack himself by a small contingent of crewmen at his back. He turned and gave them a mock curtsey, and several clapped.
Randolph, not much older than Jack but still quite spry, hopped off the box and started wandering the interior perimeter of the circle. “If I tell you to go,” he spoke where all twenty-eight participants could hear (Jack had taken a quick head count during the early part of the speech), “you leave the circle. I don’t think we’ll be sending away many tonight, but, you … just … never … know.” He approached a young woman, perhaps even a girl of about sixteen, and gently touched her shoulder. “Try next year, love,” he spoke sympathetically, dropping his voice, and her smile dropped away into something that looked perilously close to tears. “Go on, then, be a good girl.”
Jack hoped neither of his daughters would ever take such a thing so seriously. Sure, it was good for girls to have caretakers, but there was no law said they needed men for such things – Viola did quite well raising Liana on her own, or at least with the help of her sister from time to time, and Jack knew Anamaria was far happier solitary than with someone. She was, in fact, next on Randolph’s cut list – not a surprise, considering she had at least one boyfriend elsewhere. She glanced to Jack in triumph as she turned to leave; he only shook his head, grinning.
Randolph stalked along the circle twice more, slowly, pausing to look into each person’s face for a few seconds each time. The first time, Jack had merely looked back, unruffled. The second, he lifted an eyebrow when the man went on past, then glanced around at the women left nearby. Please let it be someone who’s not looking to join up with pirates, he prayed silently. Yeah, it’s been a while, and I guess I wouldn’t object to something short-lived, but hell … I’m just not interested.
After he’d weeded out six people, Randolph climbed back on his box. “Now, for the next part,” he announced.
A few volunteers stepped into the circle with cloth in their hands, and Jack tensed. He’d forgotten the blindfolds – he hated feeling closed in, caged or boxed, including by his own senses. He said nothing as a woman moved behind him, lifting a folded black piece of cloth over his head, concentrating on Randolph’s voice as he cursed himself for being pulled into this stupid idea for entertainment. Who calls this entertainment, anyhow? Watching a duel’d be more fun.
“Again, for those of you who are new, what I’m doing is having the remaining participants’ eyes covered so I can make my selections. I’ll place them back to back, leaving them that way until I’m finished, and they will then be free to remove the blindfolds.” He gentled his voice for those wearing blindfolds. “I won’t make any of you keep them on too long, do not worry.”
Easy for him to spout. Jack braced his feet apart in the sand, keeping his eyes shut beneath the cloth, for it gave him a greater feeling of control than straining to see indistinct shapes he couldn’t make out if a gun were held to his head.
What he also didn’t want to admit, to remember, was the one time Francois had insisted on a variation of this particular handicap. It had been during Jack’s initial agreement to … service him, in exchange for his and Will’s continued existence. He’d been blindfolded, his hands tied palms together for maximum restraint, and thoroughly – though not roughly, at least – used before being left alone to unmask and clean himself, and dress.
He nearly jumped when hands landed on his shoulders, and heard some familiar chuckles at his back. They weren’t malicious; they couldn’t know what he knew, see his memories. Thank the deities!
Murmured conversation, whispering, laughing were common enough during this part, and Jack concentrated on sounds of merriment instead of his own darker memories, wondering who of the circle he actually knew would be put with someone that would actually surprise him. Young Ogilvy had had his eye on a local baker’s assistant since they’d made shorefall, and Jack hadn’t been blind to the girl giving him the eye back. Ah, young love, he mused inwardly. Or at least vigorous lust.
He supposed he were standing at someone’s back by now, though they were far enough apart that he had no clue who it might be. He could reach back and touch if he wanted to try, but it held no appeal – no use letting them think he was eager to find out, in any case. It was going to be difficult enough, he assumed, to extract himself from whatever situation Randolph was putting him into.
After what seemed an eternity in close darkness, a light blessed breeze rolling in off the ocean the only thing keeping Jack calm, Randolph spoke again. “You may remove the cloth now.”
Not wanting to display his great relief, Jack reached up and calmly slipped his up over his head, blinking against the dusk that suddenly seemed very bright by the glow of torches. He spotted Anamaria, Gibbs, and several crewmen all with arms crossed, smirking in his direction. Oh lord, what now? he wondered, trying to understand why he ended up being such a constant source of amusement for these people. He supposed he couldn’t complain, since they took orders equally well, but still …
He turned slowly, catching sight of others to his side spotting one another. A few looked surprised; the younger couples joyfully threw their arms around one another, and only one set seemed absolutely shocked.
Until Jack spotted who was behind him. He took a step back, blinking, mouth open and silent for a few seconds as his pounding heart found its way back down into his chest. “Oh, now I know God has a sense o’ humor, lad, but this is a hell of a trick t’ play ‘pon your captain.”
“What – you think I did this?” Either he was a damn good actor, or Will was equally knocked off-guard as he pointed to his own chest. “I assure you, Jack, I had no part. Anamaria got me into this tonight; it wasn’t my doing.”
“Hmph.” Jack thought it over. “Sounds like somethin’ she and Viola cooked up for amusement, wouldn’ ye say?”
Suddenly, Randolph was at their side, looking between them. He didn’t appear amused. “I assure both of you, there is no trickery involved, and it’s insulting to suggest as much.” Both men glared at him. “I did the same thing with both of you that I did with every other person in this circle – it’s nothing I can explain, it’s just what comes to me. Instinct.”
“Well, your instincts, sir, are in need of fixing.” Jack frowned, consternated. He was more worried Randolph was legitimate, than of how he himself looked to his crew – after all, the man had picked for Jack the one person in the entire selection that Jack would’ve picked, were he prepared to be as honest with the public as he was with himself.
Randolph only smiled at him before turning away, heading to a nearby couple more than overjoyed with their pairing. When he was gone, Jack looked back to Will and attempted to explain – what, he didn’t know. “Look, it’s nothin’ personal-“
“I understand, Captain.” Appearing faintly amused, Will held up a hand. “I still think we’ve been had by someone, or some mutual someones.”
“No doubt.” Jack relaxed. “Though, ye’d think they would’ve had a better joke had they taken your preferences into account, matched ye up with some strumpet instead. Suppose it wouldn’ have been as funny, though.”
“There is that to consider.” Will looked ready to say something else, but they were interrupted by Viola, who appeared and stuck a tankard into each of their hands. “Thank you,” Will began to the woman, “but I don’t-“
“It’s not going to kill you,” Viola reassured him. “Just some short beer, ale – nothing too strong, I promise. It’s a festival, after all.” She looked between them. “And, you both look like you could use a keg apiece, I swear.”
“Conservative estimate,” Jack muttered into his rum, nodding his thanks to her. “You can’t imagine.”
*****
Part 5 ...
Under pressure from Viola and Liana, Jack consented to take part in the pairing ceremony. The only other time he’d done so, he’d been one of the five people Randolph had gently turned away, and probably the only one relieved to walk off unchained.
Though San Rafe had been inhabited by escaped slaves and other social castoffs – as well as the rare respectable citizen seeking a quiet life – for nearly half a century, the pairing ceremony had only been going for about twenty years. Long ago, Viola had told him memories from her girlhood, of watching the annual ritual with friends and laughing at some of the results wrought by the older shaman who’d been doing it at that time – the same man who’d begun the custom locally. Only he and Randolph had ever conducted it and, not surprisingly, Randolph had ended up here initially as a guest of the dear, departed witch doctor.
That was how Jack thought of the fellow, May he rest in peace. Turned out lots of the locals disagreed, but then again, they lived with the man and, perhaps, were so desperate to not be alone that they humored and lived by Randolph’s efforts. Jack suffered no such handicap, and harbored enough skepticism to rely more upon his own matchmaking abilities than someone else’s. Besides, it didn’t take much skill for Jack to find a willing wench or lad in port, eager to make a night’s wages if the captain were so disposed, or to simply accommodate him so they’d have a story to tell about fucking a legend.
It didn’t matter he hadn’t been so disposed in well over a year; fact was, he could do it anytime he liked.
“I certainly hope there’s a reward somewhere at th’ end of this,” Jack grumbled as he and Liana made their way to the town square in the fading early evening light.
“Like rum?” He laughed at her assessment. “Mama said that.”
“Well, Mama is absolutely correct. At me age, a little rum isn’ gon’ hurt anything.” He draped a hand across her shoulders and kept his eyes pointed at the hard-packed dirt to avoid tripping over anything in bare feet.
The closer they got, the more dirt gave way to grainy, then soft, white sand. The “town square” was more of a strip than any other type of geometric enclosure, among the island’s few supply stories and booths, and one side was open to the sea from a respectable distance to allow for the tide. A cliff rose sharply a couple hundred yards on the other side of the outermost building, shielding the very bay where Pearl was sleeping – she could be seen from the strip, but even then, just barely, and not at all of a night.
Jack had consented to let the local hairdresser unwind his dreadlocks and get just enough lye scrubbed into his hair to dissolve the sugar-and-honey fixer. He’d managed to protect a lock near his face on which he’d already begun another collection of beads and baubles, including a couple of mineral stones a very bored Will had whittled holes into while stuck in Francois’s brig, to pass the time. His hair hung in damp raven and auburn waves around his shoulders, just long enough to hit him between the shoulder blades, and he wore the traditional garb of ceremony participants – cream-colored linen shirt and loose breeches that came to mid-calf. The material was well-designed, light against his skin and reflecting nighttime heat in the northern Caribbean.
A loose congregation of about two hundred people, including Jack’s crew, were standing about talking, drinking, eating, and making merry in the midst of staked torches when he and Liana arrived. He doubted this would be the full extent of participants, seeing as a good two hundred more lived on the island. Only about twenty other people were dressed similar to Jack, and he brightened.
“Oh, good!” he observed to his daughter. “Won’t last long, and we can get to the festivities, then.”
She shook her head, slapped Jack lightly on the arm, and called, “Luck be with you!” as she took off across the sand for a group of children near a booth selling little cakes. This left Jack looking around for anyone he might know, aside from his crew – several of whom were not taking part in this infernal ceremony, and were smirking in his direction.
“Aren’t you the pretty one?” He turned his head to look into Anamaria’s face. She cocked her head and stepped back to look him up and down. “Let me guess: your daughter’s idea?”
“Viola’s, actually.” Jack shook his head and brushed back some loose hair blowing into his face. “She accused me of bein’ too elitist, said it was settin’ a bad example for Liana. Truly, I don’ think there’s anything wrong with teaching ‘er it’s good to be picky an’ choose your own bed partners, but what do I know?”
“Maybe she just wants you to have fun.”
“Nay, th’ fun comes after. Unless I miss me guess, that’s kegs o’ rum stacked near th’ mercantile, and a few fellows with instruments t’ strike up some lively mood once we’re all quit of this nonsense.” Only then did Jack notice Ana’s cream garb, and quirked the corner of his lips. “You too?”
It was the pirate woman’s turn to shrug. “When you’re the only woman in a crew, sometimes there’s problems. Thought it’d be good to show some of these sods I’m not going to be hopping into their hammocks anytime soon.”
Jack narrowed his eyes, but she shook her head at his frown. “Jack, you can’t stop them, all of them. Besides, I handle myself, and there’s never been anything so bad a few sharp words or a punch to the teeth doesn’t stop it.” Still, Jack ground his jaw; he’d specifically ordered the crew to give Anamaria a wide berth – more for their own safety than hers, admittedly – and if she didn’t seem interested in an initial offer, to back off and let her be.
“Come on.” Ana took his sleeve and directed him to walk beside her toward the circle of white-clad participants – Suckers, all of us! – being herded into loose formation near a clump of torches. Jack gave passing crewmen who catcalled him a raised eyebrow and, when he was certain no children were looking, an upraised middle finger as well. Had he been stricter, he might make note and have them keelhauled later, but he had to admit when he didn’t get roped into this, he too sat back and smirked. Usually while holding a tankard of rum.
Ah, rum. And peace.
“Well, we’re not the only ones, at least.” Ana gestured with a nod, and Jack glanced across the circle to spot Joseph and Stumpy similarly dressed. They were two young bucks always eager to meet new girls, so Jack couldn’t be terribly surprised. What did set him back on his heels was the sight of Will not too far from them, casually conversing with a woman to his left garbed in matching cream shirt and a knee-length skirt.
Jack allowed himself to fix his eyes on the younger man, to actually stare from this distance. His shirt was unbuttoned to the center of his chest, the hem untucked and loose around his hips. Short breeches similar to the other men’s stopped just below his knees, showing off long, slender calves and the tops of unshod feet half-buried in sand. He’d left his hair untied, and the ends sat upon his shoulders, loose wavy curls catching orange glints from the torchlight as he moved his head, laughing over something his neighbor was telling him.
Only Randolph’s voice broke his attention, pulling it back upon himself as he entered the loose circle and climbed up on a wooden crate set there for the purpose. He held up his hands, eventually having a dull roar instead of a cacophony of festivity, and when it had dwindled to just a few voices on the outer fringe of the celebration, he spoke. “I see everyone’s in a good mood tonight,” he spoke mildly, drawing chuckles and a few “Aye!s” from those in attendance. “Well, that’s why we’re here, after all.
“Now I know you would all like to get to the best part, the drinking and dancing, and since we have a small enough crowd for this year’s Pairing Ritual, that shouldn’t be long off.” He cleared his throat. “But perhaps you’d all like to see some matching going on before you settle in with your drink and food?”
A loud cheer went up outside the circle, and Jack couldn’t help shaking his head, grinning. It’d be over soon enough and he could stand back from the circle and smirk at the remaining crewmen left.
Unless, of course, one was Will. The idea of the blacksmith being matched up with some new woman bothered him more than the possibility of him with Elizabeth ever had, perhaps because that hadn’t seemed likely from the get-go, given their backgrounds and social limitations. Here, there were a plethora of eligible, attractive young women, none of whom were beyond Will Turner’s strata or reach.
“For those who’re new this year, here’s what I do: I go around and pick those as I feel not ready for the ceremony just yet, and they’ll back off into the crowd. Now this doesn’t mean,” he turned, facing the other side of the crowd, “this doesn’t mean those good people shouldn’t be with someone, just that they’re not ready, or that a match doesn’t exist here.
“Some have asked how I have the authority to do this.” He chuckled, and a fair amount of the crowd laughed, too; a few couples even raised their hands into the air and called support and approval for Randolph. “All I can say is it’s a gift I have, just like a doctor might be able to cure the sick, or a poet compose the perfect verse. I’ve not disappointed yet …” He cast his eyes around the circle. “Though, I suppose there’s always a first time.”
More snickering, and he waited for it to die down before concluding. “Nobody here tonight’s obligated. Though, it’d be a shame for me to do all this work just to see any of you back in my circle next spring.” A few of the better-known cads were good-naturedly catcalled by their friends and family, including Jack himself by a small contingent of crewmen at his back. He turned and gave them a mock curtsey, and several clapped.
Randolph, not much older than Jack but still quite spry, hopped off the box and started wandering the interior perimeter of the circle. “If I tell you to go,” he spoke where all twenty-eight participants could hear (Jack had taken a quick head count during the early part of the speech), “you leave the circle. I don’t think we’ll be sending away many tonight, but, you … just … never … know.” He approached a young woman, perhaps even a girl of about sixteen, and gently touched her shoulder. “Try next year, love,” he spoke sympathetically, dropping his voice, and her smile dropped away into something that looked perilously close to tears. “Go on, then, be a good girl.”
Jack hoped neither of his daughters would ever take such a thing so seriously. Sure, it was good for girls to have caretakers, but there was no law said they needed men for such things – Viola did quite well raising Liana on her own, or at least with the help of her sister from time to time, and Jack knew Anamaria was far happier solitary than with someone. She was, in fact, next on Randolph’s cut list – not a surprise, considering she had at least one boyfriend elsewhere. She glanced to Jack in triumph as she turned to leave; he only shook his head, grinning.
Randolph stalked along the circle twice more, slowly, pausing to look into each person’s face for a few seconds each time. The first time, Jack had merely looked back, unruffled. The second, he lifted an eyebrow when the man went on past, then glanced around at the women left nearby. Please let it be someone who’s not looking to join up with pirates, he prayed silently. Yeah, it’s been a while, and I guess I wouldn’t object to something short-lived, but hell … I’m just not interested.
After he’d weeded out six people, Randolph climbed back on his box. “Now, for the next part,” he announced.
A few volunteers stepped into the circle with cloth in their hands, and Jack tensed. He’d forgotten the blindfolds – he hated feeling closed in, caged or boxed, including by his own senses. He said nothing as a woman moved behind him, lifting a folded black piece of cloth over his head, concentrating on Randolph’s voice as he cursed himself for being pulled into this stupid idea for entertainment. Who calls this entertainment, anyhow? Watching a duel’d be more fun.
“Again, for those of you who are new, what I’m doing is having the remaining participants’ eyes covered so I can make my selections. I’ll place them back to back, leaving them that way until I’m finished, and they will then be free to remove the blindfolds.” He gentled his voice for those wearing blindfolds. “I won’t make any of you keep them on too long, do not worry.”
Easy for him to spout. Jack braced his feet apart in the sand, keeping his eyes shut beneath the cloth, for it gave him a greater feeling of control than straining to see indistinct shapes he couldn’t make out if a gun were held to his head.
What he also didn’t want to admit, to remember, was the one time Francois had insisted on a variation of this particular handicap. It had been during Jack’s initial agreement to … service him, in exchange for his and Will’s continued existence. He’d been blindfolded, his hands tied palms together for maximum restraint, and thoroughly – though not roughly, at least – used before being left alone to unmask and clean himself, and dress.
He nearly jumped when hands landed on his shoulders, and heard some familiar chuckles at his back. They weren’t malicious; they couldn’t know what he knew, see his memories. Thank the deities!
Murmured conversation, whispering, laughing were common enough during this part, and Jack concentrated on sounds of merriment instead of his own darker memories, wondering who of the circle he actually knew would be put with someone that would actually surprise him. Young Ogilvy had had his eye on a local baker’s assistant since they’d made shorefall, and Jack hadn’t been blind to the girl giving him the eye back. Ah, young love, he mused inwardly. Or at least vigorous lust.
He supposed he were standing at someone’s back by now, though they were far enough apart that he had no clue who it might be. He could reach back and touch if he wanted to try, but it held no appeal – no use letting them think he was eager to find out, in any case. It was going to be difficult enough, he assumed, to extract himself from whatever situation Randolph was putting him into.
After what seemed an eternity in close darkness, a light blessed breeze rolling in off the ocean the only thing keeping Jack calm, Randolph spoke again. “You may remove the cloth now.”
Not wanting to display his great relief, Jack reached up and calmly slipped his up over his head, blinking against the dusk that suddenly seemed very bright by the glow of torches. He spotted Anamaria, Gibbs, and several crewmen all with arms crossed, smirking in his direction. Oh lord, what now? he wondered, trying to understand why he ended up being such a constant source of amusement for these people. He supposed he couldn’t complain, since they took orders equally well, but still …
He turned slowly, catching sight of others to his side spotting one another. A few looked surprised; the younger couples joyfully threw their arms around one another, and only one set seemed absolutely shocked.
Until Jack spotted who was behind him. He took a step back, blinking, mouth open and silent for a few seconds as his pounding heart found its way back down into his chest. “Oh, now I know God has a sense o’ humor, lad, but this is a hell of a trick t’ play ‘pon your captain.”
“What – you think I did this?” Either he was a damn good actor, or Will was equally knocked off-guard as he pointed to his own chest. “I assure you, Jack, I had no part. Anamaria got me into this tonight; it wasn’t my doing.”
“Hmph.” Jack thought it over. “Sounds like somethin’ she and Viola cooked up for amusement, wouldn’ ye say?”
Suddenly, Randolph was at their side, looking between them. He didn’t appear amused. “I assure both of you, there is no trickery involved, and it’s insulting to suggest as much.” Both men glared at him. “I did the same thing with both of you that I did with every other person in this circle – it’s nothing I can explain, it’s just what comes to me. Instinct.”
“Well, your instincts, sir, are in need of fixing.” Jack frowned, consternated. He was more worried Randolph was legitimate, than of how he himself looked to his crew – after all, the man had picked for Jack the one person in the entire selection that Jack would’ve picked, were he prepared to be as honest with the public as he was with himself.
Randolph only smiled at him before turning away, heading to a nearby couple more than overjoyed with their pairing. When he was gone, Jack looked back to Will and attempted to explain – what, he didn’t know. “Look, it’s nothin’ personal-“
“I understand, Captain.” Appearing faintly amused, Will held up a hand. “I still think we’ve been had by someone, or some mutual someones.”
“No doubt.” Jack relaxed. “Though, ye’d think they would’ve had a better joke had they taken your preferences into account, matched ye up with some strumpet instead. Suppose it wouldn’ have been as funny, though.”
“There is that to consider.” Will looked ready to say something else, but they were interrupted by Viola, who appeared and stuck a tankard into each of their hands. “Thank you,” Will began to the woman, “but I don’t-“
“It’s not going to kill you,” Viola reassured him. “Just some short beer, ale – nothing too strong, I promise. It’s a festival, after all.” She looked between them. “And, you both look like you could use a keg apiece, I swear.”
“Conservative estimate,” Jack muttered into his rum, nodding his thanks to her. “You can’t imagine.”
*****
Part 5 ...
