Site menu:

Links:


The Waiting Room

~ Chapter Sixty-Seven


Translations and Transgressions


Example content image

Sparrow struggled with the French book as he attempted to learn the language. But he found that the book was of little help. It was more an introduction in conversing in the romantic language than an actual translation.

What he needed was an English-French dictionary. But he doubted Noodle-boy-man, whatever his name was, would be so kind as to provide him with his request.

“Bloody ‘ell.” he grumbled. He pushed the book aside and stared at the other volume, the one on Spanish. “Ye probably be no help to ol’ Jack either,” he sparred with the tome.

Jack swiveled from the bar to let his eyes rest on Frenchy. He considered asking him to help but the man’s English was about as good as his own French, practically non-existent.

He stood there watching as the Frenchman and the Earl conversed. It was becoming obvious that his choices were limited. Between the two men they could decipher Carrie’s letter.

The question was, would they translate it correctly for him. Jack knew he was not the best mate to anyone in the room, all but for Sam. He turned back to the bar and downed the last of the rum. It had been a long day. And now he had to sum up his courage and beg the two men to translate the words.

He felt as if he were being keel-hauled across the bow of a ship as he weighed his decision.

“May God have mercy on me soul,” he gave a short prayer as he turned on his heel and strode across the room to the seated men. They stopped their conversation as they saw the pirate approach. The Frenchman jabbered something to Wilmot, who in turn answered back in French.

As Jack came nearer, the Earl held out his cane, halting Jack from coming any further.

“What say you, pirate? Why do you encroach upon our privacy? Speak up, what say you?” the lordship inquired of Jack.

Jack narrowed his eyes downward at the tip of the cane. How easy it would be to draw his sword and chop the end off. How simple to reach forward and pluck the ghastly, ridiculous wig from off his bastard head. But he refrained.

Instead he smiled, like a fox convincing the chickens he meant no harm as he entered a chicken house. He rolled his body forward, a flourished wave of his hand.

“A favor if I may, Gov’ner?” Jack pushed the cane aside but the Earl snapped it back to his chest.

“Stay yourself, Sparrow. Come no closer, I daresay…” he held a handkerchief up to his nose.

Jack became aware that his presence offended the Earl’s delicate sense of smell.

“Apologies, your lordship. “Tis been a long time since I had the pleasure of a bath. If I recall, I was landlocked for a time…at a boarding house.” His mind seemed to drift back to the time. “Yes, ‘twas owned by one Lady Pamela. Fine woman. Quite deft with her hands if I recall…eh…scrubbing me back, that is.”

The Earl looked over the pirate before him, a half smile tugging at his lips. “Ahhh…Lady Pamela…I recall her myself…I think…not sure…had so many you know? But all ladies of all walks of life have their own talents, do they not?”

Jack gave a narrowed look at the Earl. He doubted if Lady Pamela would have allowed herself to be one of the Earl’s conquests. She was too much of a lady for such unscrupulous behavior that befell this man’s deviant way of life. He decided to let the comments pass, knowing better of Wilmot’s claims.

“Yes, quite right you are your lordship. Many ladies. Many talents. As is the case of this letter.” Jack held out the letter from Carrie, being careful to keep it from both men’s reach.

“What have you there my man?” Wilmot tried to take the letter, but Jack snatched it back. Frenchy just watched, waiting for someone to explain what was happening.

“Tis a letter from a lady. She be French. Like yourself.” Jack directed the last at the Frenchman. “I believe Frenchy here knows the young lady who penned the letter. Mademoiselle Carrie?”

At the sound of Carrie’s name the Frenchman snapped to attention.

“Care—ree! Oui! Je connais Care-ree!”

Jack scowled at the the man’s outburst, looking to Wilmot for translation.

“He says yes, he knows Carrie.”

“Well, then, he can be of help to ol’ Jack. See I be needing someone to translate the letter. I tried to do it on my onesies...but did not have much luck. So now I must make a choice. That was to continue to brood that I would never know what me Carrie has written and pray it was none too important information, or I could admit I be needing help and come over to ye fine gentleman and inquire into the possibility that ye would assist me in translation of said written letter.”

“Are you asking us to translate your love letter for you, Sparrow?” Wilmot repeated his question in French to the his companion. Frenchy smiled and nodded.

“Captain if you please, Early, old boy. Captain Jack Sparrow. And I can not say if it be a love letter as that I am unable to decipher a single word except for me name at the beginning and Carrie’s name at the end.”

The Earl spoke again to the Frenchman. They conversed quickly, the Frenchman again nodding quickly.

“Very well, Captain. We have agreed to translate for you only because for lack of other enlightening activities available. I dare say, I have not gone so long without a woman. I fear that I may have to look elsewhere during my stay here.” The Englishman glanced around eyeing the possibilities. His gaze fell upon Raphael. His skin was smooth, his muscles strong and lean. He had a quiet reserve about him, one that interested the Earl.

Jack caught the object of the Earl’s affection. He cleared his throat to bring the Englishman’s attention back to him.

“He be a fine one to consider but a word of caution. He does have a bit of a temper and has been known to inflict shall I say, considerable fatal damage to those who have displeased him.”

The Earl showed signs of concern at Sparrow’s warning.

“Now, if ye be looking for a delicate flower, might I suggest the one over there, by Lt. Victor? He…she…ah, BonBon is one who may be receptive to your advances.” Jack glanced around as if checking for eavesdroppers.

“Eunuch, I understand. But lovely singing voice.”

The Earl nodded. “Thank you Captain. I shall take that under consideration. Now,” he said, turning back to the pirate and reaching for the letter.

“If I may, I shall be more than happy to assist you with your translation.”



 

Next Chapter