Rum and Moonshine
"'Im was de big mahn when 'im was livin', Cap'n," the brown skinned old man called Ezra said as he drew upon the oars once more. "Not a houngan, but mebe shoulda been. Now 'im be dread. Dread, I tell ye."
"Dread?" Captain Jack Sparrow asked with real interest. He knew, of course, that a houngan was a sort of Voodoo priest and many of them were feared, but to call a dead one dread was worrisome.
"Dread." The old man gave a firm nod as if the word should explain itself. "'Im 'ad powerful jujoo an' de knowin' of many t'ings. 'Im was 'fraid of not'ing. Not a wicked mahn, though. Some said 'im was, but me Grand-mere knew 'im when she was a girl. She say he neva hurt none dat didn' deserve it. Not like some I coul' name if I wan'd to."
"So why is he so dread now, Ezra?" Jack wanted to know.
"'E daid, Cap'n, an' de daid is no to be triffled wid." Ezra glanced over his shoulder to see how close to the beach they had come. The shore of the small cove curved around them making the water calm. "Listen to me, Cap'n Sparrow. You is a young mahn an' strong. Get anodder ship. Dis is folly."
"The Pearl's not just any ship," Sparrow said looking at the beach as they drew closer. "And it isn't just about the Pearl."
Still drawing on the oars the old man considered his passenger for a quiet moment. He frowned and shook his head.
"Den I tell you, Cap'n, listen an' be wary." The keel of the longboat ground onto the sand of the beach, settling to the starboard a bit. "I wait here."
"Just follow the path up the slope to that outcrop of stone, right?" Jack said stepping into the knee deep water of the little cove.
"An' remember what I said," the old man admonished him getting out on the other side.
"Listen and be wary," Jack replied.
"An' don' spare de rum." The old man thrust two brown bottles into Jack's hands with a firm nod.
A half hour's hike found Captain Jack Sparrow at the head of the narrow path where a large stone pushed up from the rich soil to tower over the surrounding trees. Moss hung from its flanks but the wind had swept its top clean. In the light of the rising moon the stone was the color of bone. The sight sent an unwelcome shiver down Jack's spine. He knew there was little time to prepare so set to it without delay. He scratched a shallow trench in the soil discovering the stone was only inches beneath the surface. Into this he poured half of one of the bottles of rum then drew his sword as he had been told.
Jack had seen and done many strange things in his years but this was among the strangest. He didn't entirely believe the tales he had heard of the ghost that would provide information or advice for a drink of rum but his search for the Pearl, Barbossa and the crew that had betrayed him had come to a dead end. He'd lost their trail and this seemed like a reasonable chance to take and not the most expensive. Jack reckoned he would find out soon enough.
He had been standing vigil over the trench for nearly an hour and was ready to give it up as a bad job when he noticed the wind shift. Jack turned to look around, seeing nothing. He returned his attention to the trench and found it completely empty. In the strong moonlight it even seemed dry as if the rum had never been there.
"What brings ye here, white man?" a dry, cracked voice said from the darkness. It seemed to come from all around.
Jack swallowed hard. "I seek a way to find my ship."
From the shadowed undergrowth the shade of a man stepped. It was grey-skinned with eyes clouded over as with cataracts. The grey skin hung loosely on the shade's frame as if he had been starved for a long a time. He had no shirt and the britches he wore were tattered rags but he walked like a king.
"A ship?" the ghost asked with half a smile on his grim face. "Or is it revenge?"
"The ship is more important," Jack said as evenly as he could. "I'll not deny, revenge would be sweet, though."
"An' what does ye offer?"
The ghost had stopped across the trench from Jack and was looking steadily at him. Jack knew suddenly that all he had heard about this place was true and that the man before him was truly no longer just a man. It took a considerable amount of Jack's will not to run screaming into the night.
"Let's start with this, mate," Jack said holding up the half empty bottle.
The ghost's face broadened into a greedy smile as he reached for the bottle. Jack snatched it back with narrowed eyes and leveled his blade at the shade's chest forcing it back. The dead man scowled furiously but was wary of the cold steel that menaced it. Jack gestured to a group of large stones with the bottle and backed toward them. The shade followed, still wary. With his sword across his knees Jack sat on one stone and the ghost on another with the largest between them like a low table. Jack pulled the cork with his teeth then set the bottle down. His hand dipped into one of his voluminous pockets and came out with a pair of pewter cups, which he set next to the bottle, then filled. The ghost smiled thinly and took up one of the cups. He waggled it in a sort of toast before draining its contents. Jack returned the gesture and drained his own cup. From somewhere the ghost produced a deck of cards and began shuffling them. After a moment he set the deck on the stone and gestured for Jack to cut it. Jack lifted roughly half of the cards, surprised that they felt ordinary and very real, then set them next to the remaining stack while the ghost looked on.
"I can tell ye what lay 'pon yer path and where, mayhap, ye shoul' go," the ghost said taking up the cards again. "It's you must do de choosing of yer course. I promise not'ing save dat if ye cross me, white man, ye'll bear me curses to de grave."
"Let's have none of that, then," Jack said and filled the ghost's cup again.
The ghost nodded approval and once more drained his cup. Jack thought he saw a change in the ghost's appearance. The grey skin was not quite so grey and the cloudy eyes were less cloudy. It was as if the rum were restoring the life the shade had lost.
"We begin, den." The ghost began laying out the cards in a strange pattern before the living man. This was not a pattern Jack had ever seen. Fortune tellers and Gypsies Jack had seen many times. They had used the cards to tell fortunes to the devout and the gullible but never with this particular alignment. Jack looked on while the ghost finished his dealing. The ghost looked expectantly at him. Understanding what was required, Jack refilled the ghost's cup and watched it swallow the rum.
"Choose," the ghost said and swept his hand over the cards.
Jack considered briefly before tapping one at the center of the pattern.
"Ye start in de middle?" the ghost mused before reaching out and flipping the card over. On it was an image of a fair young woman with a halo of gold discs above her head and a needle-like sword in her right hand. "De Princess of Coins. A good beginning but taken from de middle it mean trouble. De Princess is a powerful friend and ally. She a fearsome and cunning foe. Ne'er shoul' she be trusted. She will have her way or none."
Jack frowned while he poured more rum and as the ghost drank it off he tapped another card.
"So ye takes de second and second card," the ghost murmured flipping the card over. This revealed a slender youth who stood upon crossed swords gripping another in his right hand and a dagger in his left. A circlet of gold graced his brow. "De Prince of Blades. Ye be surrounded by powerful folk, white man. De Prince is brash. Head strong as youth. Foolish. Dangerous. Not so treacherous as De Princess but jus' as dangerous. He serve others and hold dem higher dan himself. A good ally so long as his friendship remains."
Again Jack poured and the ghost drank. Again Jack tapped a card. The ghost flipped it over and smiled in a friendly fashion. The card bore the image of a stout, bewhiskered man with a mug in one hand and cutlass in the other.
"De Bondsman," the ghost chuckled. "Very good sign, white man. De Bondsman mean ye find loyal followers. Dey see ye in deir own way. Dey see ye as dey t'ink ye are and want ye to be. Good. Must treat dem well, always. Failin' dat and ye risks all good fortune."
"That's more like it," Jack said, pleased. He filled the ghost's cup again and selected another card.
"King of Blades," the ghost said grimly. The card depicted a slim, angular man dressed in black with a black crown. He held a slim blade above his head and filling the rest of the card's face were rows of swords all dripping with blood. "Wise in council but the chiefest of foes. Most dangerous of all de Mortal Deck."
"I know who that is," Jack said coldly.
"Do ye, white man?" the ghost said in an arch tone. "Do ye see de card? Do ye see how it turned? Calls it inverted, we do. Dis one is not as he seem. Could be greatest friend. Could be best enemy. Could be like me."
"Like you?" Jack shot the ghost a look but already the shade was holding out his cup for another drink. Jack filled it and tapped impatiently on another card.
"De Cage," intoned the ghost. This card was unlike the others. Illuminated upon it was a strange, twisted mesh of wires and scattered about it were images of men. Jack looked closer and realized that all the men looked the same. He turned his eyes up to the ghost's only to find the specter holding out his cup again. Quickly Jack filled it and tapped another card. This one shocked Jack for he was very familiar with an image such as he saw. A bird rising from what could have been either flames or waves with a sunburst behind it and a pale green shaft running up the middle between the bird and the sun. Jack unconsciously glanced at his wrist where his tattoo lay hidden under his sleeve. "De Phoenix. Two Immortal Cards drawn togeder is a powerful sign. A dangerous path ye have chosen and both of dese cards will come. Ye will be tested and ye will pass through but ye will ne'er be de same after. Pour and choose again."
Jack did as he was bid and the ghost turned over the card. There was only one remaining face down but Jack was trying to make sense of the image now revealed. It was a disc with many points not unlike a sun but all in red and black with golden letters and lines. Stars dotted the field surrounding it and along the bottom were very clearly waves. Jack looked up at the ghost who was frowning at the card.
"Turn de last card yerself, den pour," the shade commanded him. Jack did then looked at the card. Here was the strangest of them all. The background was half blackest night with stars shining. Half was russet with a rising or a setting sun. In front of these was a seated figure that looked like two women at once. On the side of the night she was clad in fine raiment with a crown upon her head and a what looked like a crab resting on her open hand. On the side with the sun she was clothed in rags, her hair tangled and from that hand hung a locket in the shape of a heart. Below her feet on both halves were green waves.
"What does it mean?" Jack demanded.
"Rum!" the ghost shouted in a voice like thunder.
Jack made to pour but his bottle had run dry. The ghost glowered wrathfully on him and rose from the stone seat. He loomed over the mortal man threateningly. Jack gripped his sword tightly, ready to lunge if the ghost should attack but he scrambled in his pocket for the second bottle, finally jerking it free. The ghost seemed to relax slightly but made no move to sit again. Jack struck the neck of the bottle on the stone table snapping it off. He considered pouring another cupful for the ghost but held the bottle out to the fell thing instead. The ghost reached for it. Jack held on and they glared at each other for a long moment before Jack spoke.
"What does it mean?" he demanded again.
"It mean ye are 'pon strange tides, white man." The ghost pulled the bottle from Jack's unwilling fingers. He drank deeply before going on. "De card wid de disc is called de Compass. It points de way ye must go. It is de most powerful of all de Works: Sword, Lantern, Book, Compass. Compass must not be denied. Great peril if ye deny it. Bad Jujoo. De worst. De last card dere. De one ye turn over. Dat one is de Goddess. Dat one will give ye what ye want, white man, but der is always a price to pay. Always terrible."
With narrowed eyes Jack watched the ghost drain the rest of the rum. When the ghost cast the bottle aside Jack asked, "How do I find the Goddess?"
"Dere is an island. Two days by ship, mebe three if de wind does not favor ye." The ghost pointed to the east. "Go dere, white man. Say naught of me for I want naught from dat Obeah witch, least of all her attention. Tell her what ye want and she give it you for a price."
"Can you tell me anything else?" Jack asked.
"I tell ye don't go." The ghost scowled down at him. "Give dis t'ing up. Don't go."
With these last words the shade faded to nothingness leaving Jack sitting on the stone. He looked down where the cards had lain expecting to find nothing. He was surprised, therefore, when he saw that the card with the image of the Goddess still rested in its place though all the others had vanished. Jack stared intently at the card trying to decide if he should heed the ghost's advice. He suddenly had the strangest notion that the woman on the card was smiling at him and when he bent to peer more closely he could have sworn she winked.
"Right then," Jack said getting to his feet. He slammed his sword back into its sheath and bent to pick up the card. Just before his fingers would have touched it he jerked his hand away. Something seemed to be warning him not to touch the card again. The face of the woman appeared disappointed and that suited Jack just fine. "I'll see the witch." he mused. "But she won't be getting everything her way."
Three nights later Captain Jack Sparrow stood on a shaky, half rotted dock in front of a ramshackle hut in the heart of a mangrove swamp. He stared up at the rough plank door and debated the course of his future. He might have stood there until dawn undecided except that the door creaked open seemingly on its own. A wash of warm yellow light like the rising sun poured out and the silhouette of a woman dressed in the rags of a once grand gown was half revealed in that light. Jack placed his foot on the first step leading to her door and the first step leading to his destiny.
AN: I wish to thank Belphagore from the Black Pearl forum for a translation that helped give a little spice to this tale. She a grand "Mad French Woman" who is always willing to help out a fellow pirate in need. Thanks, Bel.