Captain Jack

By Storm

Dreams. Dreams of a giant squid bursting up from the ocean depths and engulfing sailing ships, crushing their hulls, dragging them and their crews to a watery grave. Strange, unsettling dreams of a black galleon sailing on a sea of burning yellow sand, surrounded by the bleached skeletons of other ships. Dreams…..

Lee Crane jerked upright in his bunk, fumbling for the light with one hand as he pulled the blanket around his shoulders with the other. Shivering, he tried to shake the last of the dreams from his mind. They’d been a bit too real, yet at the same time far too weird to be anything but dreams - well, they would have been if he’d been anything but the captain of the Seaview.

He sighed as he contemplated that thought. Until he’d encountered Captain Krueger, he hadn’t really believed in ghosts, but now… He pulled the blanket tighter. One thing he definitely didn’t want to deal with was another malignant spirit.

A sudden chill touched the back of his neck, bringing his head up in apprehension. His eyes scanned the shadows, looking for the source. To his dismay, a misty spot was coalescing in the middle of his cabin.

“Oh, shit!” Crane grabbed for the intercom mike that hung on the wall beside his bunk. “Admiral! I’ve got a problem here!” The dead silence that answered told him that he was on his own. He slid from the bunk and edged towards the door, taking care to avoid any contact with the hazy form taking shape in the expanding cloud of mist.

And found the door jammed tight. Swearing, he turned to face the figure in the center of the cabin. By now it had solidified enough that he could tell it was the figure of a man, tall and slim with long dark hair that hung in braids and dreadlocks topped by a red bandanna; many of the braids sported beads and charms. The matching moustache was thin, above a goatee that was also braided with beads. A light colored shirt that looked like it might have once been white was loose fitting, under a dark brown vest. A bright knotted sash around the figure’s waist set off brown pants. Tall boots with turned down tops and a tricorne hat completed the ensemble.

All in all, the form coalescing in his cabin looked like a damned pirate. Great. That was all he needed to finish his day off.

Brown eyes flashed with gold highlights as the apparition turned its head towards him.

“Ah, there you are,” said the specter with a slight slur as he turned and pointed a ring bedecked finger at Lee. “Captain Jack Sparrow at your service, sir.”

“What the hell are you doing on my boat?” Crane asked sharply, wishing he was in uniform instead of pajamas. It felt undignified to be confronting a potential danger to his boat and crew while improperly attired.

“Boat?” The figure blinked owlishly and looked around the cabin. “Seems rather large for a boat.”

Crane made an impatient gesture. Either this guy was awfully dense or from a time period before the advent of submarines. Either of which was entirely possible given the way he was dressed - if not both. “Tradition. Submarines are always called boats no matter how big they are.”

“Submarines?” The figure that had identified itself as Jack Sparrow cocked its head to one side and looked questioningly at him. “As in sailing under the water?”

A frown furrowed Crane’s forehead. This apparition wasn’t acting like any he’d ever encountered before. “Yes,” he answered cautiously, “underwater.”

“Ah.” The man stroked his thin moustache as if contemplating what he’d been told. “Interesting. Yours, you say.”

“I’m the captain. Commander Lee Crane, United States Navy Reserve.”

The statement brought a slightly perplexed look to the other’s face. “The United States? I don’t believe I’m familiar with that term. Although the navy part I get. A warship then?”

Lee couldn’t help rolling his eyes heavenwards and sighing. Why me? “Used to be the American colonies,” he answered shortly, “and Seaview is a research vessel.” If the bastard doesn’t know Seaview is armed, I’m not about to tell him.

“Used to be? Really? Now that is interesting.” The gold brown eyes fixed on him and Crane had the brief disconcerting sensation of looking in a mirror. Oh, surely we’re not! The thought in his mind must of shown on his face, for the specter suddenly looked more closely at him. The thought flashed into Lee’s mind that despite the act - and he was suddenly sure it was an act - that the being before him was as intelligent and canny as himself. He saw humor sparkle in the other’s eyes - which was something he’d never seen before in any of his previous encounters with otherworldly entities. Cruelty, arrogance, conceit, malevolence; those he’d seen. But never before humor.

Was it possible that he’d finally encountered … just a ghost?

“Look, Captain Sparrow, just exactly what are you doing here?”

Captain Sparrow shrugged and waved one hand. “I really have no idea. One minute I was in Davy Jones Locker aboard my ship and then … I was here.”

“Davy Jones locker?” Was it a real place, he wondered, or something metaphysical in nature?

“It’s a long story.”

Crane looked at him skeptically, but wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. On the other hand, no information was ever really wasted. Given some of the more bizarre events that had occurred during his tenure as Seaview’s captain - and that Davy Jones was one of the few entities he had yet to encounter - perhaps this was information he needed to know.

“I’d be interested in hearing it anyway.”

Sparrow cocked his head to the other side and gave another shrug. “Short version - I made a deal to be captain of the Black Pearl for thirteen years. When the time was up, Davy Jones sent the Kraken to collect. It took me and my ship.”

“Was it worth it?” Crane asked, his curiosity aroused. Was Jack Sparrow’s relationship with the Black Pearl anything like the one he had with Seaview?

His answer was a crooked smile. “Oh, yes. After all, the Black Pearl is still mine.”

“The black ship on burning sands,” Crane muttered almost to himself as the pieces clicked into place. Would he follow his own Grey Lady into Hell to stay with her? He had to privately admit that he very well might if that was the only way he could keep her for all eternity.

The golden gaze sharpened. “You’ve seen her.”

“In a dream,” admitted Crane, “but I have no idea why.”

“Cranes and sparrows - birds of a feather perhaps?” suggested Sparrow wryly.

“God, I hope not.” The words slipped out before Crane could stop them, but Sparrow seemed to be more amused than insulted. He waved offhandedly as if to indicate the rejection was of no consequence.

“I can understand a naval officer not wanting to admit to being related to a pirate. Had a young fellow who sailed with me just recently go through the same thing. Grew up thinking his father was a merchant seaman - but alas, old Bootstrap was a pirate - and one of my crew at one time.”

“My people were Armenian,” Crane told him stiffly, “They didn’t come to the New World until the early part of the twentieth century.”

Sparrow went still for a moment, his gaze seemingly turned to something unseen in the distance. “That long,” he muttered softy, as if to himself. His gaze then refocused on Crane.

“Armenian, you say? I knew a lass once that claimed to be an Armenian noblewoman. She was traveling the world looking for adventure, she said.”

The blood drained from Crane’s face. One of his cousins had researched the family tree - and he suddenly had little doubt as to whom Captain Sparrow was speaking of. He couldn’t help the groan that followed the realization, for it could only mean that this scruffy looking pirate probably was one of his ancestors. Well, that would explain how the odd eye color had gotten into his family line. Two hundred and fifty or so years ago a many times great grandmother on his paternal side had fled an arranged marriage. When her family finally traced her down, she had a four year old daughter with brown gold eyes and was living in London, claiming to be an English sea captain’s widow. But rather than dispute her claim - and bring shame to the family - they let her lie stand. Ever since then though, that branch of his family tree had thrown out at least one sailor in every generation.

Captain Jack Sparrow must have had awfully strong genes to put such a strong stamp on his descendants.

The expression on his face must have telegraphed his thoughts, for the ghost grinned at him and said, “I take it you’re familiar with the lady in question.”

“Probably,” admitted Crane wryly. At least Sparrow wasn’t rubbing it in.

“Ah. Blood calling to blood perhaps?”

Which was probably as valid a reason as any as to why Captain Sparrow was here, since he didn’t appear to want to take over anyone’s body or possess Seaview for his own - which was definitely a novel experience for Crane. But that still left the question of why here and now.

“Even assuming that’s true - and I’m not quite willing to admit it is without proof - why here and now?”

Captain Sparrow’s visage took on a thoughtful expression. “Just exactly where is here and now, Captain Crane?”

Crane paused for a moment. Seaview as on a scientific mission, not something involving national security. In fact they had aboard a scientific team from Woods Hole and a film crew from National Geographic, filming a television special about the wrecks of Iron Bottom Sound.

“We’re in the western Pacific off the island of Guadalcanal, diving in a place called Iron Bottom Sound. It was named for the nearly fifty warships sunk there in a battle during World War Two between the United States and Japanese navies.”

“Who won?” asked Sparrow, cocking his head to one side.

“The US did, but it was bloody - for both sides,” Crane told him.

Sparrow got that looking into eternity expression for a brief moment again. When he’d refocused back to the here and now he said, “There are a lot of restless and angry souls still here, Captain. The battle never ended for them. You should beware.”

Crane couldn’t help the shiver that passed through him. After his experience with Krueger, a malignant ghost was the last thing he ever wanted to meet again.

“I see,” murmured Sparrow thoughtfully at his reaction.

Exactly what he saw Crane didn’t know, but the next thing he knew Sparrow was pulling something from one of his braids. He reached out and took Crane’s right hand, placing the object in his palm and closing his fingers tight around it. Crane was astonished to feel warm flesh where he had expected icy nonexistence; the object Captain Sparrow had given him pulsed with a warmth of it’s own.

“A friend of mine gave me that as protection against ghosts. Keep it with you. It‘s not like I need it where I am.”

With those words Captain Jack Sparrow stepped back and began to fade into nothingness. He raised a hand as if to wave goodbye…

And then he was gone.

Crane blinked in surprise and slowly opened his hand to reveal the object that Jack Sparrow had given him. It was a carved bead about the size of a marble, made of something that looked like ivory - or maybe bone, he wasn’t sure. The pulsing he’d felt when it was first placed in his hand had subsided and yet…

And yet the energy wasn’t entirely gone. He considered the talisman, for that was surely what it was. Should he keep it?

He thought about the events during the time he’d been possessed by Krueger and shuddered again. If there was the remotest chance this thing could keep something like that from ever happening again, he’d weave it into his own hair if need be. He’d start with a necklace though; he wasn’t quite ready to have to explain braids to the Admiral. Or Chip, for that matter.

Moving to his closet, he opened the door and pulled out a small box from the top shelf. Carrying it over to his desk, he seated himself and contemplated the battered object on the desk before him. It was a small candy tin, one of the two objects he possessed that had belonged to his paternal great-grandmother. Carefully opening it, he proceeded to lay out the objects within on his desk. One was a long strand woven of hair and silver - his great-great grandmother’s hair according to his late father. Picking up the bead Jack had given him, he critically eyed the hole though it. It looked large enough for the strand to pass through.

Should he? It seemed the height of superstition for the captain of the most advanced nuclear sub on the planet to wear something so obviously steeped in primitive magic. And yet…

And yet science couldn’t begin to explain Krueger and some of the other things they’d encountered aboard Seaview. Crane threaded the bead on the strand of hair and silver and then fastened it around his neck. A feeling of peace settled on him. He closed his eyes and basked in the glow of warmth. Superstition or not, it just felt right.

Smiling to himself, Lee carefully placed his other family treasures back in the tin. He had a feeling he’d sleep well for the rest of the night.

Fin