Harley's vessel was a tragic looking Indian ship, bought at the bottom dollar by the financial wizards of the Dutch East India Company, who's infinite wisdom split the summers Opium stock into just three shipments out of Mangalore. He was the middle ship, the first one should have already made it around the Cape of Good Hope and should be moving relatively quickly up the African Coast. Always a dangerous mission, evading the Pirates of the shores, often meant making deals with the blackest hearts in the world. A position Harley did not like to be placed in, not a comfortable spot for a form Naval Commander.
Three weeks into their voyage and they were nearing the waters of East Africa. With them, were two other battleships, altogether, they were blessed with over one hundred guns, a completely unknown show of force in that area of the world, but the company was not taking any chances this time. The drug supply had to go to Europe and there they would make their profits. The demand was growing with every passing year, which was sure to reach a fever pitch, perhaps even a war between the interested parties of the Asian rim.
Jayant, his tall Indian helmsman called out from the stern and Harley joined him on the deck. Salt-spray dusted there faces as they came upon a strange sight. A dead ship was capsized in the middle of the sea, pieces of hull and barrels lay spewed. All were gone save one, that was apparently sunning himself on the capsized ship. He was a strange sort of person, with long tendrils of hair and a deeply tanned skin, covered in various tattoos. A sailor of the Caribbean no doubt, for the beads he wore. The MERRIMACK came to stern, and a shadow drifted over him.
Harley gaped as the man stood and shouted angrily, "Would you move that blasted thing?!"
"Surely he is in shock. All his brothers dead. Roasting in this unforgivable sun. Not a drop of drinkable water." The Indian shook his head. "We must throw him a line."
Harley nodded his head and the Indian threw down a rope. "Come, brother. We will give you food and lodging till the next port of call."
The man ably climbed the rope, with surprising strength for a man that by all rights should have been at death's door. Harley took the man's wrists and pulled him onto the deck. Many of the Indians that served the ship looked strangely at him.
"Welcome to the Merrimack. I am this ship's Captain, Wallace Harley. This is my trusted helmsman, Jayant.
"Means 'victorious'." The old Indian said, handing the new arrival a pouch of water.
"Good to know." He half smirked. "I am Jack Sparrow."
"Sparrow." Harley said. "Tell me friend, is that a family name?"
"Let us just say that is was thrust upon me and I have become borne to it."
The Indian leaned in to his Captain. "Does that make any sense?"
Harley shrugged. "What happened here?"
"I was aboard this frigate for three months. We were on our way to present King George a new pair of silk pajamas. But, a rogue wave hit us."
"A rogue wave, you say?"
"Hogwash, Captain. Ain't such a thing."
"No. It is true. My own father lost damn near half a fleet in the North Sea. He always said it was a wave to do it."
"Aye." Jack Sparrow said. "As big or bigger than this ship here. A sturdy craft. Could go all the way to the America's."
"We aren't going quite that far, Mr. Sparrow. You are welcome to stay on until we reach Madagascar."
"Good. I just love pygmies."
"I thought we wasn't stopping until we reached Port Elizabeth." The helmsman muttered.
"We can't very well bring this poor man all that way."
"I don't mind, really." Jack said, smiling, flashing bits of gold in his mouth.
"Are you very sure, sir? You have been through a terrible ordeal and I would not want to cause you further discomfort."
"Then, if I may, do you happen to have any rum?"
The ship was alive with conversation and music that night, the sails trimmed for lack of wind, but still managing along its course steadily. Jack stood looking out over the edge, the Captain's personal bottle of Scotch in his hand, a poor substitution for rum, but a good sailor's companion to settle the nerves. He was laying on the hull of the boat for more than three days, laying there, his water and food on a line towed underneath, giving the appearance of a man trapped by the sea, left for dead. It was a particularly clever idea of Sao Feng's and he had become integral in the following plot.
The Captain had gone overboard in welcoming Jack to the crew, a sure sign that he was long due for an Englishman's companionship. But, Jack was not just an Englishman, but a Pirate and his appearance on the ship did not bode well for Captain Harley of the Dutch East India Company. There were larger beings at stake in what was coming and the Captains tiny fleet of three vessels would be nothing in its onslaught but a stepping stone for the great powers of the ocean to climb upon.
All of this, so that Jack could get what he wanted the most. A ship to call his own. It was a silly thought, that going through a good man like Harley would help him achieve that end, but Jack was a man of many silly thoughts.
A waft of spicy tobacco smoke hit Jack's nostrils and the Captain gave his long pipe a breath and patted him on the back. "Nice night for a smoke."
"No thanks. I don't smoke. Would not want to subvert my mind." Jack said, swigging on Scotch.
"I was lost at sea once, long ago."
Jack leaned against the railing and propped a leg up. "How's that?"
"I was once a commander. Had five ships under my command with His Majesty's Navy. We were out in the Mid-Atlantic when a hurricane hit. Bad storm it was, and I watched all five ships succumb to her waves and winds, men that were quite hardened turned to inconsolable babes at the turn in weather. All were unable to get their wits about them, even for a moment, to save their lives. My mast broke, but I saved our boat. We drifted for ten weeks before the Armada caught up with us."
"Can't say they were too pleased."
"No. I was immediately decommissioned, and I lost everything. Including the hand of the woman I was to marry. My beloved Tessa."
"Aye. If we were not sailors, none of us would know suffering."
"I believe that is true, Mr. Sparrow. But what can we do but be sailors. I would not fit in anywhere on the dry land. What skills would I have there? All I could do was take an appointment with the Dutch East India Company, and thus my fate has led me here."
"And in poor company the squall shall find you." Jack muttered, or sang, but Harley could not tell the difference. "And what are you hauling?"
"Spices. Out of India." The Captain said shortly, though there was a tinge of guilt in the break of his voice.
"Good trade, spices. Bet you turn a tidy profit on them." Jack turned away. "I'll be finding my own place to shut my eyes, thank you for the Scotch, it ain't rum, but it'll make it all the better."
Captain Harley doused the lamp in his cabin before closing his eyes. He found himself asleep shortly, he could always sleep in the sway of the ship. There was no way to know that come the next morning, his life would take another tragic turn. He could not have known that Sao Feng had his sights on the ship, and the cargo it held.
Jack did not sleep so well. He was already busy, readying the boat for what would surely be complicated day.