The Map

A short trip around the maypole

Nell leant over the rail looking down at the activity of the dockside - fishermen mingled with pirates and other locals, all going about their business. She sighed, searching for signs of Jack or Hock on the wharf but they were nowhere to be seen. They had escorted her back to the Black Pearl  after leaving the tavern and then had gone back onto the island to supervise the supplies, although Nell had an idea that the supervising would be done from inside the tavern and with another bottle of rum. But maybe she was doing him an injustice; then again, maybe she wasn't.

She could see some of the crew of the Pearl  busy loading the supplies onto the boats and it occurred to her that their manner was subdued and the usual laughter and coarse language that accompanied their work was not present. Nell could see the bruises and cuts on the faces of the ones who had returned from the island; she could also see that it was still obviously at the forefronts of their minds - it would take more than a few days and a few drinks before they would be able to rationalise what they had seen and then, as was the custom, turn the whole experience into nothing more than a tale to be told round a fire, embellished and padded out, until each story teller, single handedly fought the monks and was victorious. She would have found it funny, she might even find it funny later; but not now, not when her own memories were too sharp. She had let herself be distracted in the Book and Bell, but now she was on her own, her mind wouldn't allow her to push it to the back. She had been certain she'd heard the chanting of monks in the market, but Hock had given no indication he'd heard them; then there had been the priest...

Nell looked down at her hands remembering, with a shudder, the grip he'd had her. She had been certain he'd spoken to her about absolution; certain that he'd mentioned the monks. Her hand went to the back of her head and shifted through her hair and she gave a gasp of pain as her fingers caught at a tangle of knotted, matted hair over a bump on her skin; she drew her fingers away and was surprised to see the blood that was smeared on their tips. So she definitely hadn't imagined falling backwards and hitting her head, and for some reason, there was a measure of relief in that knowledge. She pressed her fingers back on the bump and was a little disconcerted when she saw the amount of blood that covered her fingers when she drew them away again.  Reasoning that she had disturbed the cut and had probably made it worse; she needed to have it cleaned up, but as she couldn't see herself the extent of the cut, she would have to ask someone to do it, but she didn't want to have to explain what had lead to her hitting her head. She couldn't ask one of the crew or Lady Clarence as it would involve more questions than she was prepared to answer. Nell narrowed her eyes as she studied the dock once more; an idea formed in her mind, she was sure that she could find her way back to the doctors that Jack had called on for the Turners, she would ask for his help and no one else need ever know.

She looked towards the gangplank and waited till she could slip unseen down the plank and onto the cobbled surface of the dock, and made her way through the throng of people, not realising she was holding her breath until, when she was finally out of sight of the Pearl, she let it out on a deep sigh.

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Jack was happy with the deal he had struck and let the goods he had bought slip into his pocket. He looked the priest up and down and smiled genially at him.

"A confession is confidential, isn't it?" he asked cheerfully, the slur pronounced in his voice, matching the smell of rum that came from his breath.

"You wish to confess?" asked the priest doubtfully. It had been a strange day indeed and he was just waiting for the time he could shut and bar the door and retire to his rooms behind the main church.

Jack merely laughed in reply. 

"Would be wasting both of our time, Father," he slurred. "No, I was just wondering how many of me crew has passed through your doors this day." He didn't phrase it as a question, but he arched one dark eyebrow at the priest and swayed slightly.