Ch 7. Please read and review! Thanks so much for the reviews you have left so far... I hope you are enjoying this, because I am really enjoying writing it. Cheers, and Merry Christmas!
Kit was smoking a cigar, his feet up on the table when Jack came gliding out the door of Elizabeth's cabin, his face a mask of indifference, a cynical smile pasted on his face. Kit motioned for Jack to sit down.
"Thanks, I think I'll just shoot meself instead, savvy?" came the ironic response. Kit snorted.
"Take a smoke, get over yourself," he said with uncharacteristic laziness. "At this rate we'll all be dead before we reach Tortuga."
"Weatherby!" Jack shouted. The first mate arrived dutifully. "Why are you not Mr. Gibbs?"
"My apologies, Captain," Weatherby said. "Can I do anything for you?"
"Not unless you are Mr. Gibbs, which you obviously and unobligingly aren't. However, since it is not entirely your fault, I will let you off the hook."
"Thank you, Captain."
"And as to the 'anything else' you can do for me, I would like some wind, on the double."
"Some wind, sir?"
"Aye, Weatherby, wind. A strong Southern trade wind, to be exact." Weatherby shifted his weight and looked to Kit Vane, wondering whether the Captain was having a laugh or merely insane. Kit shrugged and puffed. "Well, off you go then. Haven't got all night. Spit spot."
Weatherby trotted away, wringing his hands. He did not like the new Captain much. The pleasant rhythm they had established under the Pirate King had been replaced by a lurching swing of a life, and most of all, Weatherby was concerned for Elizabeth. Beneath her stalwart and daring exterior lurked a thoughtful side, and a deep sorrow that showed sometimes on her face. Weatherby understood her moods, but he didn't understand why she had taken up with these strange new men, nor why they seemed to plague her so. And now he had to find a southerly wind in the midst of dry November? He'll have us all devil's magicians, Weatherby grimaced, crossing himself.
"All hands to stations!" Jack roared, forgetting all hands already were at stations. "Mr. Weatherby is going to find us some wind, and we need to be prepared! Carlos, stop mopping and bring me my compass. Mr. Fenwick, tighten that rope, and then keep your finger licked and in the air like your life depends on it. Mr. Weatherby? How are things coming?"
"Captain, there doesn't seem to be a breath of wind."
"We're all counting on you, man! Pray to Calypso. Or insult her. Either one would probably work."
"Pray to a heathen goddess? I'd as soon sail to the land of the dead," Weatherby said adamantly.
"Why don't you insult her, Jack? She's more likely to respond to that," Kit put in coolly. Jack whirled around and walked with a swagger towards Kit.
"Because the Captain doesn't risk his life when there are others to do that work for him. Perhaps you would care to do the insulting?"
Kit smirked. And then he stood. Jack watched him walk casually to the deck, his cigar still in his mouth, and gaze out at the glassy sea. Then, ever so gracefully, he pulled the cigar out of his mouth and tipped it over the water, tapping the excess cinders off the edge. They landed noiselessly below. Kit sauntered back to his seat and sat with a flourish.
"An eccentric libation," Jack muttered, after a moment. "Is something supposed to happen?"
A huge gust of wind suddenly swept through, nearly knocking Jack off his feet. A direct south wind, almost more than the Pearl could manage. The crew instantly set about spreading the sails, a considerable amount of shouting and excitement afoot. When he recovered his footing, Jack looked back to Kit with a gleam in his eye.
"Mysterious are the ways of the goddess," Kit said piously. Jack narrowed his eyes, but there was no time to question him further. They were running at a good speed straight for Tortuga.
Marta walked arm in arm with Captain Barbossa down the dank streets of Tortuga proper, listening with a charmed smile to his endless flow of dark story-telling. Porter sat grudgingly at the docks, on order to keep a sharp lookout for the Black Pearl. From time to time, painted ladies would approach him with a whispered suggestion, but he waved them off. He craned his neck, no longer able to see Marta or the strange criminal she had departed with.
"All pirates seem to be story tellers," Marta was saying to him, several streets away. There was a coy smile on her face.
"How else do we wile away the hours, except by such?" Barbossa asked, his voice smooth. "It's becoming a lost art, methinks. Younger sailors, they're all brash and too stupid to understand the ways of the past. All the old legends were passed down this way. All the old treasures found this way. What will the world look like when we've gone—when the stories of the sea are just fairytales to amuse children with?"
"A dismal place," Marta agreed. She barely reached his shoulder in height, and found keeping up with his brisk walk difficult. "You'll pass your wisdom on to someone before the time comes, won't you?"
"Ah, but that's what you were telling me earlier. The time doesn't have to come. Am I right?" His smile was persuasive, but Marta saw a hint of desperation in it. If the stories were true, he had reason to be desperate.
"Perhaps," she said, doing her best at a flirtatious laugh. "But what you ask comes with a price. A very high one." She bent and began whispering in his ear. After a few moments, he straightened.
"A woman after me own heart you are, lass," he said, and was about to answer when Porter suddenly came running up, out of breath.
"Bl—Black Pearl," he managed, gasping for air. "The Pirate King and that Sparrow man… and they aren't alone! Charles Vane is with them!"
"What the devil?" Muttered Barbossa.
"Ah, right on schedule," Marta smiled.
"Do you have any idea who Charles Vane is?" Barbossa asked, turning Marta around roughly to face him. She lifted her delicate chin.
"A companion of Jack's."
Barbossa noted the familiar way she said Jack's name. He pulled back with a grim smile. "Ah, I see how it is. And did 'Jack' also tell you about Vane's history or record as one of the most notorious killers this side of Africa?" Barbossa could see by her reaction that he hadn't. "I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you, missy, but your Jack is not a man to be trusted. Just you remember that."
"The Faithful Bride" was full of its usual and unusual customers, and the only thing they all seemed to have in common was intoxication.
Elizabeth, Jack, and Kit strode in with all the awkwardness of feuding lovers, though none of them were, technically speaking. Elizabeth's face was set like ice, and her words were stern and impersonal as she directed Jack to get the crowd's attention, to warn them of the Royal Navy's impending raid.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Jack cried, leaping up onto a table and glancing around. The room hushed and looked at him. "Oh, pardon me. I don't see any of either here. Sailors, pirates, thieves, beggars, and women of the profession," everyone laughed heartily and Elizabeth was perturbed Jack could recover his humor so well, "I am here on a mission from the Pirate King, an illustrious and extremely cruel acquaintance of mine." Elizabeth crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. Suddenly Kit joined Jack on the table, a mug in one hand and a merry light in his eyes.
"Allow me to interrupt!" he cried, and everyone allowed him. "Before we get to the important bit, I must crave indulgence as my dear old friend, Captain Jack Sparrow, introduces our beauteous King with a song he has written just for the occasion, which delineates his affection and devotion to this lovely woman." Kit's smile was two miles wide and wicked as the devil.
Jack snorted and slapped Kit on the back. "I'm afraid my dear friend Charles Vane is mistaken on several points. I am not going to sing a song, and I have no devotion to anyone. Savvy?"
The room grumbled and threw things at Jack; they had liked the idea of a song. "Sing!" they began to cry. "Sing or we'll shoot!" and "Sing or we'll leave!" Jack turned to Kit mildly, and told him he was going to kill him later. Kit nodded and waved him on.
"Very well, my dear excessive and crooked friends, I will give you the honor. You will always remember this as the day you heard Captain Jack Sparrow sing." With that, Jack signaled the small band of musicians. On cue, they struck up a merry Irish jig, and Jack, in his dark, rough voice, began:
"When I was naught but a little lad
Just a spark in the eye of me mum and me dad
I heard an enchantress speak words o'ar me
That I'd grow up to love and to live on the sea
I'd make me a name, t'would be feared and adored
And I'd lead them to chase—both the king and his lords
But my doom would be set when I went in to free
A beautiful woman who fell into the sea!
Yo ho, Yo ho, the hour is set!
For a Pirate Lord his end to meet!
But raise a glass and give up regrets
For death is worthwhile if her kisses be sweet!"
Everyone roared with laughter and enjoyment, and joined him for a second chorus. A few couples shoved aside tables and began to jig. Elizabeth sat glowering at the whole scene. Jack continued:
"Well the years went along with a flash and smile
I made me a fortune to last me a while
And many a woman did capture my eye
But I never found her for whom I would die
Till a mornin' came, and she breathed in my arms
My steadfast defenses she quickly disarmed
And I found myself her captive at last
And she left me to die, chained upon my own mast!
Yo ho, Yo ho, the hour is set!
For a Pirate Lord his end to meet!
But raise a glass and give up regrets
For death is worthwhile if her kisses be sweet!"
The dancers were engaged in a raucous competition of who could jig the fastest. Many who had heard rumors of Jack's one-time death began toasting Elizabeth boldly, and Jack, seeming very pleased with himself, leaped off the table and joined in the dancing. After a moment he summoned attention again.
"And now, I have the pleasure of introducing you to the Pirate King herself, who is going to sing the rest of the song I just began. Of course, there are two sides to every story, and though it hardly seems necessary, I give her leave to defend herself!" Kit swept Elizabeth up before she could protest, and kissed her on the cheek. The crown leaned in with excitement; they couldn't remember being this entertained in years.
Elizabeth cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes at Jack, taking up the challenge even though he had been certain she would flee the room. Beckoning everyone closer, she began to sing in a remarkably low, sweet voice:
"When I was naught but a little lass,
I would sit and I'd talk to my looking glass,
One day I'll be famous, one day I'll be free
And I'll find my true love, a true man of the sea!
My love, he was found, on a raft all alone
And he sighed by my window until I was grown
But the wedding was stopped by a startling guest
A Pirate who came on a wind from the West!
Yo ho, yo ho, the hour is set!
A lady fair her match to meet!
But raise a glass and give up regrets
For love is worthwhile if his kisses be sweet!
My true love and I were parted that day
With a kiss did I bid him to sail away
True love never dies, he whispered to me
I'll return to you yet, keep your eyes on the sea!
But the Pirate that caused all my unhappy sighs
Lit a flame in my breast when I looked in his eyes
And my heart it was split like a wooden-beamed mast
When he told me he'd woo me and win me at last!
Yo ho, yo ho, the hour is set!
A lady fair her match to meet!
But raise a glass and give up regrets
For love is worthwhile if his kisses be sweet!"
By this point everyone was clapping and singing along, tickled by the famous villains engaged in such a petty though amusing diversion. Elizabeth, out of breath and glowing with heat, leaped off the table and into the arms of Charles Vane, who swept her to the dancers, drawing her close to his body. With one hand on the small of her back, and the other clasping hers, he led her with laughing vigor around the room, their important announcement forgotten, and Jack staring by with a look that could kill off a tribe of Charles Vanes.
It was at this moment the Captain Barbossa entered with Marta Black and the Porter boy.
"Jack!" Marta cried above the din, rushing to his arms. Jack took another pointed look at Elizabeth and Kit, and then crushed Marta into an intimate embrace, kissing her full and long on the mouth.
"Darling! You found me at last," he said, enjoying the taste of her lips more than he had thought he would. "Where's the sour old man I asked you to find?" he winked at her, and she pointed to where Barbossa stood by the door, clearly enjoying the stupidity of his rival. He walked over, his boots heavy and his hat a foot taller than anyone else's in the room. The musicians shut up, and the crowd backed away.
"You damn fool, Sparrow," Barbossa greeted him with. "I would give both me eyes for a chance to kill you right now, and slowly."
"I've missed you too, Hector!" Jack replied, thrusting a drink into his hand. "Maybe later we can take turns stabbing each other, or shooting each other rather. I remember having especially good aim when it comes to your heart."
"And while you were so pleasantly engaged in your little scheme to make the woman you love hate you forever, did you recall the reason you came here?" Barbossa asked.
"Oh yes, that," Jack said. "Everyone listen!" Everyone clearly obeyed. "Our dear friends, the Queen's Royal Navy, are less than 2 miles offshore and armed to the gills. They are planning to raid Tortuga, capture as many deviants as they can get their hands on, and then burn it to the ground. I suggest we all get as far from here as possible, and take everything of value with us. Who's with me?"
Silence. Elizabeth shoved Jack out of the way and took a turn.
"We can't run from them forever!" she cried. "We've defeated them once, and they know it! They fear our wrath more than you can imagine. I say we fight, and defend ourselves, so that they return to England quaking in their boots and swearing never to draw near our havens again! This is our land, our town, our sacred gathering! Shall we stand as men and women of dignity and defend ourselves? Who's with me?"
No one stirred. Elizabeth had thrust her sword into the air for dramatic effect, and now lowered it, infuriated.
"What the bloody hell do you propose we do then?" she yelled.
"Either we lose our lives or we lose Tortuga," came scattered replies. "How on earth do you expect us to decide?"
"Wait! Listen to me! I've a plan!" It was Marta's voice that suddenly rang out, much to the surprise of Jack and Barbossa. "What do the English Navy fear more than anything? The French! The only reason they sail on Tortuga is that they suppose the French are indifferent to the fate of the island they claim. So I propose we run up the French Flag on every ship we have docked, and set our own fires near the shoreline, as if the French have beaten them to the task! Will they dare interfere with the French rule of their own island? No! They will turn their sorry noses back to Britain, and good riddance! Now, who's with me?"
And by the noise that erupted in the room, it was clear that everyone was.
