Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Newsies!
Chapter Two: Will There Be Pirates?
Jack yawned and stretched as he sat up in the bed, the mattress squeaking below him. Squinting from the harsh sunlight that poured into the room he glanced about him, noting that he was the first of his men to wake up.
SMACK!
"Shit!" Racetrack awoke with the curse spilling from his lips, rubbing the back of his head and looking for whatever offending object had hit him while he slept unawares.
The leather boot stared up at him innocently from its place on the ground, and his eyes narrowed on it before his glare slid up to Jack's grinning face, the captain nonchalantly lacing up the shoe he still had possession of.
"You know," Race muttered, "There are better ways to wake people up…"
"And yet none of them seem as enjoyable to me," Jack laughed, taking back his second boot and putting it on.
Racetrack rolled his eyes and helped Jack wake up the remaining boys, this time with much less shoe throwing but far more yelling.
When everyone had gotten dressed and gathered what little they had taken with them to the tavern the band of boys trooped downstairs, thanked Taylor, who was busy cleaning up the remaining mess from the night before, and departed for their ship in the harbor.
"All right guys," Jack began, facing his crew as they stood on the main deck, "As some of you may remember, when we stopped in Old Providence on the way here from Puerto Bello I met with one of the owners of pretty much the only place to get clothing on the whole godforsaken island. Now, they're in desperate need of more merchandise, and lucky for us they want it from Port Royal since you can get almost anything here for the base price. So, I need Snitch and Dutchy," the two boys looked up at the mention of their names, "To go tell the stock guys at the London Clothing Company that Captain Jack Kelly and his crew are ready for the shipment."
"No problem Jack," Dutchy spoke up, combing a hand through his blond hair, "When should we tell them to bring the crates down?"
"Sometime around midday would be good, then we can load 'em on and get out before dark."
Dutchy and Snitch nodded and went off to the London Clothing Company while Jack and the crew took advantage of the downtime by making minor repairs to the ship's sails, cleaning the decks, and making sure the hold was organized enough to accommodate the incoming boxes.
Jack was in the middle of retying a knot in one of the ropes when a small voice invaded his thoughts.
"Excuse me? Hello up there!"
Giving the rope one final tug Jack looked down over the side of the ship to where a young man stood with a small boy, waving up to the captain from the dock.
"What can I do for ya?" Jack called down to them, annoyed at being interrupted and not particularly interested.
"I um, well, say, would you mind finding the captain of this ship for me? I'd like to speak to him."
"You're lookin' at him."
"Oh! I'm so sorry Captain! The sun's kind of in my eyes, and it's hard to see, and well," the man floundered for words, "Anyway, I was wondering if you might be—uh—hiring, right now."
"Hiring?" Jack repeated the word back slowly.
"That is to say, hiring for, well, looking for new crew members."
"I think I got all I need, thanks."
Jesus, Jack thought to himself, turning back to the rope, Who the hell is this kid?
"How many men do you have?"
Jack twitched in irritation, "Seventeen, including me," he answered, "Which is more than enough for this ship."
"Only if you don't want to operate the guns," the boy countered.
The vein in Jack's forehead began to throb, You've got to be kidding me…
"Don't need to operate all of the guns," Jack huffed as he pulled harder to tighten the knot.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, pirates have been getting bolder and growing in numbers all over these waters. If I were you I'd be trying to get as much manpower on board my ship as possible."
"Well you're not me."
"Yes, but—"
Jack threw down the rope in frustration and stomped down the plank to meet the boy on the dock.
"Look," he pointed a finger in the boy's face, "I don't know who the hell you are, or what you want, but you're really starting to get on my last nerve, so why don't you just run along and find someone else to annoy? I'm waiting for a shipment and then I'm sailing out of here in a couple of hours, I really don't have the time to deal with you right now."
Just as he turned on his heel to go back to his previous task, the boy called imploringly one last time.
"Wait!"
Jack slowly rotated back to him, clenching and unclenching his fists.
"My name is David Jacobs," the boy held out his hand to Jack, who eyed it suspiciously but shook it nonetheless.
"This is my little brother Les," David gestured to the quiet boy beside him, "Our father was hurt during a fight with some pirates while he was serving in the Royal Navy, and he lost his job because of it. We just need to find some work to help out our family while he gets better, but the only thing either of us knows anything about is ships. And we know ships."
"David," Jack said seriously, "My heart breaks for you, really, but I don't need any more guys right now. I'm sure that there are tons of captains on these docks who're looking for—"
"But none of 'em are the great Jack Kelly!" Les spoke up, breaking his silence.
"Les!" David admonished, embarrassed by his little brother's outburst.
"What was that kid?" Jack asked, squatting down to meet the boy eye to eye.
"I said none of those captains are the great Jack Kelly."
"How old are ya, Les?"
"Ten!" Les grinned up at him roguishly as Jack straightened to address David.
"Smart kid," he commented, the beginnings of a smile gracing his face, "It looks like my reputation precedes me."
David held back an eye roll as Jack grinned, vainly picking at the lint on his shirt.
"You're one of the only captains our father had anything decent to say about," David explained, "He said you're just about the only honest captain in shipping left in the Caribbean."
"Well," Jack said, turning more serious, "Sadly that's not terribly surprising. Look David, out of the goodness of my heart, I'll reconsider what I said before. I don't really need another guy, but if you know how to operate the guns, the sails, the ropes, and you can clean decks, then you'd be useful to me to have around. And I like useful. But your brother—"
"Les is one of the best sail repairmen I've ever seen," David cut in before Jack could finish, "Really, he is, his fingers are so small that he can—"
"All right, all right," Jack held up his hands in defeat, trying to tell himself that what
convinced him was David's explanation of Les' skills, and not the deeply crestfallen look on the young boy's face when he realized Jack was about to refuse him a place onboard.
"So David, we're about to be going on a short trip to Old Providence to deliver a shipment of clothes. It's only four hundred and fifty miles, so we're looking at about three days there, three days back. Why don't you and Les come along, and we'll call it a sort of…test run. If everything goes well you guys can stick around until you don't need the work anymore. I can't promise any sort of high pay, just a cut of whatever we get from the shipments we deliver."
"That sounds perfect, oh thank you so much," David practically gushed, and Jack squirmed in discomfort.
"Les," David instructed his brother, "Run home and tell Papa that we're going to be working with Captain Jack Kelly for the next week. Then come right back with our bags so we can help get the cargo onboard, okay?"
"Okay!" Les ran off, beaming from ear to ear.
"So why not just join the navy or something, if you need the money that badly?" Jack inquired, watching Les' retreating back.
David's eyes hardened, "They fired my father when all he had was a broken arm. 'Said that a captain who couldn't properly grip the wheel or fight with a sword one-handed wasn't much use to them."
"Oh," Jack replied, "Lovely bunch, the Royal Navy."
David smiled wryly, "So," he asked, "What can I help with while we wait for the shipment?"
· · · · ·
Commander Pulitzer sat fuming at his desk. Why was it, he seethed, Why was it that every single time he tried to get his hands on some extra cash some goddamn pirate managed to get to the shipment before it got to him.
He threw the map he was trying to read to the ground in frustration. If he got one more report about some pirate ship with a black flag of a smirking skull and wings…
"Sir?" A navy officer poked his head meekly into Pulitzer's office, pointedly ignoring the map that lay in disarray on the floor.
"What?" The commander ground out.
"The um," the officer coughed nervously, "The Commodore would like to speak to you."
"Oh goody," Pulitzer spit out caustically when the officer had closed the office door.
Nonetheless he stood and straightened his clothes, brushing them off and attempting to look presentable. No way was he going to get the job if the old geezer didn't recommend him before he finally dropped dead…
He pushed open the door and headed down the hallway toward the grand office where the commodore worked.
Painting a plastic smile on his face he rapped neatly on the door, entering after the commodore warmly invited him in.
To his credit, the cheery expression on his face didn't even twitch when the commodore called him Joseph instead of Commander Pulitzer. But he couldn't stop the input of the sarcastic little voice in his head, which had taken one look at the jovial and innocent commodore seated in his luxurious chair and whispered venomously, "Showtime."
· · · · ·
It was almost noon when Les returned, carrying two small burlap sacks along with him.
Jack quickly took him aboard and introduced him to the crew, a process he had already gone through for David almost two hours earlier.
Just as he began explaining the details of their duties to Les and David, Dutchy and Snitch returned, a cart fully loaded with crates in tow.
"This everything?" Jack asked the London Clothing Company employee driving the cart.
"Yessir, Captain," the man replied, "Should be all thirty cartons right here."
Jack nodded in approval and signaled to his crew to start loading up the ship. David rolled up his sleeves and helped lift the heavy crates while Les hung back, not yet strong enough to be of any real help.
Shortly after, with the ship fully stocked with the merchandise, Jack ordered his men to set sail, and they hoisted the anchor and began the short trek to Old Providence.
As they sailed away David and Les stood at the back of the ship, watching the Jamaican shores fade away into the horizon.
"Think we'll meet any pirates?" Les questioned Jack excitedly when he came to stand with them.
"Les!" David groaned, "That's a horrible thing to hope for!"
"Who says I'm hoping for it?" Les bit back, sticking out his tongue.
"But still," he whispered to Jack conspiratorially, leaning away from David, "Think we'll meet any pirates?"
Acorn: Thanks for the review! I think I'm starting to figure out how to do some of the spacing, haha.
