Chapter 2
Petty Officer John Sparrow loved the idea of command. Granted he only had responsibility for the stowage of barrels of provisions and this duty was under the command of a warrant officer, but he loved the feeling of pride in a good job done. The Allied Fleet of Dutch and British Ships maintained a watch along the coast of France and Spain and especially in the Strait of Gibraltar, thereby crippling French action in the Mediterranean. Often the "Royal Katherine" would encounter a French vessel, but being such a capable ship, and running with a superbly efficient crew, the "Katherine" would roust the French and run them back into port. The crew, while being routinely drilled and prepped had much free time. The sailors did not just splice ropes and sing sea chanteys; they engaged in quite a variety of illegal and illicit pastimes.
John was quite skilled at cards and dice, especially at cribbage and Pope Joan, and soon developed a reputation as a man against whom another player stood little chance of winning, much to the chagrin of many seamen. Some of the officers, in fact, offered to take him on in a game of Pope Joan, a game so popular that the ship carried the game board with its eight "bowls", from which players won coins as they played the face cards of the trump suit. Many of the officers fell prey to John's skills of memory, cunning and bravery, losing large amount of naval pay to him. Should the ship happen to dock at a friendly Portuguese town or indeed at The Rock, Gibraltar, the men would be given liberty, and all would head for the taverns and pubs. John was wily, and stayed near the rear of the crowd, watching the games in progress. Some of his shipmates would tease and prod him into entering the games, and would indeed offer to fund his betting, in exchange for a share in his profits. John would hold back, watching and waiting, only to seize his chance against a pompous, self-satisfied player, who would eventually withdraw in defeat at the hands of the young, innocent-faced seaman from the British ship. His greatest ability was at the Italian game of seven-and-a-half, using only the face cards and the seven, eights and nines. The sailors gathered around the table made note of John's resemblance to the Jack of Spades, for which a point would be counted, and he soon garnered the name of "Black Jack", becoming something of a legend in the towns along the Mediterranean.
The crewmen of the "Katherine" would also visit the other attractions of shore towns when in port, having their pay in their pockets and fire in their loins. The good townspeople would turn a blind eye to the traffic in certain parts of their towns where the world's oldest profession was proffered. For the first few months of his service with the Navy John had not sought such entertainment, but had heard enough from the other men of the crew to arouse his interest in the women of Vigo, where a Naval Battle several years before had resulted in British and allied troops being a commonplace sight in the town.
The first evening of "liberty", John accompanied several mates along to the pubs and taverns, first for some strong drink then plans for other forms of entertainment. The taverns offered the local wine in pails, and each sailor secured one for himself, drinking directly from the bucket. The wine was strong and soon the sailors were drunk. The women languishing in the tavern, offering their "wares" with lowcut bodices and tight corsets emphasizing their bosoms , were of every type imaginable. Many of the women had been in this line of work for many years, while others still retained some blush of youth. John wasn't attracted to any of them, having in his mind's eye the face that haunted his dreams. Although her appearances were becoming less frequent, he had dreamt of her for so long that he knew the face and found no other could take its place. He was enough of a realist to know she was only a dream, but he was not moved to approach any of the available women, despite their best efforts to entice this handsome young man into their arms.
One of the bolder women, showing the unforgivable signs of age by the unnatural color of her blowsy hair and the sag of jawline and throat, sidled up to John, running her hands around his waist and pressing her ample bosom into his chest.
"Señor—you would lahk to see me, no? Enjoy very much the bedding me? I very good bedding."
John patted her shoulder, and extracting himself from her tenacious grip, backed away," Ma'am, ye are very lovely, but ah have too much respect for a dona than to accept yer offer. B'sides, ah need t' find th' head," and turning swiftly, escaped into the alleyway---where he collided with a woman, covered in a shawl, carrying a basket of bread, some of it tumbling to the ground.
"Madre de dios--¿qué usted significa? usted ha golpeado el pan de mi cesta! "
"Perdón , senora, perdón. Déjeme ayudarle" as he bent to pick up the loaves of bread fallen from the basket. When he straightened, he saw at the woman's back another figure, also swathed in a shawl. But this was a younger woman, with the eyes the color of a copper penny, glowing in contrast to the dark hair escaping the headdress. Mesmerized, John stared for longer than was suitable, earning himself a quick reprimand from the older woman, and a slap on the face.
"No mire fijamente mi hija. ¿qué usted le piensa es?"
"Perdón. Excúseme, Senora, pero ella es Hermosa." As he shyly smiled at the girl, who shyly smiled back.
"Usted perro inglés asqueroso!! Usted no la mira. Ella es mi niño y usted no puede mirarla!!" as she began banging away at John's face and shoulder with her free hand.
Backpedaling to escape the onslaught, John swooped his cap from his head, bowed low from his waist, and turning away, ran from the alleyway before the angry mother could do further damage. Her screams and rants carried after him as he ran along the street, stopping only to look behind himself when he was several buildings separated from the tavern. Alone, bereft of his pail of wine, his shipmates and his dignity, John slouched down onto the rim of a fountain, and considered his options. He could not return to the same tavern, he wasn't familiar with other places in Vigo, and he was not willing to meet up with any other women of the type he'd met in that tavern. But those eyes—the eyes of that young girl. Ah, how he had enjoyed that moment. And as he imagined them, he realized they'd been the color of the eyes of the woman he had dreamt of his entire life. Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, John knew then he was being haunted even when awake, by the woman of his dreams.