But the end of the following evening, my small crew had grown to fifteen men, and one woman, with Barbossa's help. It seems he'd recently been in the market for ship of his own, but the prospect of sailing aboard the Pearl was too sweet an opportunity to pass up, even if it meant he'd have to serve under a younger pirate.
We picked up a giant Carib man named Aciguatao. He was fierce looking and had more tattoos and markings on him than I had blank space on my own flesh. But, he was an experienced sailor. I made him the boatswain. Additionally, Barbossa dug up two fools he'd sailed with on his last ship. Ragetti and Pintel were an entertaining pair if nothing else and battled with one another for most of our brief interview. At least they had all of their clothes on.
"Bootstrap" Bill Turner turned out to be a jovial fellow, even when he wasn't sotted. Standing at his full height, he was almost as tall as Aciguato and as fair as the bosun was dark. I asked him to be the quartermaster of the Pearl. Ragetti and Pintel were adequate gunners as far as Barbossa was concerned, so that task fell primarily to them.
Finally, with the crew selected, we sailed down river to Puerta de Plata and found a comfortable inn in where to spend the remaining evening before I was to lay claim to the Pearl. I was positively jittery over the prospect of being her captain. After all, I'd never even seen the ship. And, she'd been in the Locker, whatever that was, for decades. Probably, close to a century. And, I wasn't even sure if Jones would honor our deal. That was the subject of Barbossa's and my discussion.
"So, Jack, you never told me how you came into such a fine ship, anyway. It isn't everyday that someone gains possession of a mythical ship, after all," Barbossa began, cutting heartily into a thick loin of savory pork. My mouth watered at the sight. I don't know where Barbossa had all of this money, but since I'd met him, he didn't seem to care about spending it.
I looked down at my own pathetic bowl of broth and the stale bread beside it. I picked up the bottle of rum instead. I hadn't planned on telling anyone about the bargain, but I thought it would be advisable to tell my mate. And, I reasoned, Barbossa seemed trustworthy. The man practically treated me like Kensington had, with a sort of calm guidance.
"Well, I won her," I began. Barbossa's eyes widened. "At dice," his eyebrows shot up, "Against Davy Jones," I finished. Barbossa's jaw dropped.
"That's impossible!" he sputtered. "Jones is a myth."
"So was the Pearl, mate. But I've seen Jones in the flesh, smelled him even, ad I assure you. He's very real," I said wryly, dipping into my soup.
"And, when do we see her?" he asked, dispensing with the pork and moving on to an array of fresh fruit. He bit into s lice of apple. I hadn't eaten fruit since... well, I couldn't remember when. I spooned up a limp carrot. I grimaced.
"Tomorrow, sometime. Jones told me to meet him here," I said. I spread my hands in a gesture that told Barbossa that I wasn't sure. The older man only shook his head at me.
"And, you got no collateral? No mark?" he pressed.
I shook my head, taking another swig of the spiced rum. It was tasty, at least. Perhaps if I poured some into the soup... I shook my head in response to my own idle culinary musings.
Apparently, I hadn't impressed Barbossa. He stared at me, his color heightened. But, he didn't say anything.
Finally, I noticed his silent fume. "Look, mate, he gave me his word."
As if to save me, Bootstrap strolled over, another young lovely draped over his massive forearm. He smiled rakishly at me, "Captain Jack Sparrow, I brought you a gift. Meet Cassia," the blonde girl slid seamlessly into my lap. Bootstrap had good taste. "She will be your entertainment tonight. And, from the looks of it, not a minute too soon. Hector here looks like he's about to explode." Barbossa continued to stare at me, as though he wanted to throttle me. I laughed at Bootstrap's characterization. "Well, Jack, you go and have a good night's rest. I'm going to see what I can do for your first mate, eh?"
I stood and with Cassia in tow, found ourselves a cozy nook in which to get to know one another better.
The following morning, I disentangled myself from Cassia. She was a beauty, so young and innocent looking with the predawn light warming her cheeks. It was such a shame to have to leave her behind. I left a few more coins under her pillow. I didn't know how much Bootstrap had paid for her, but she's kept me company all night, so it was worth whatever I could spare her.
I pulled my boots on and found a wash basin. I splashed the cold water on my face, neck, and chest. Looking into the chipped mirror above the basin, I studied the man I'd become in the last four years. Gone was the youthful roundness of my cheeks and innocent gaze. Instead, my cheek bones were more pronounced and hollow from the light way I'd been eating and the excess of liquor. My eyes were darkened from the Kohl, but glittered with some new knowledge and rarity. I smiled slowly, revealing an assortment of gold and silver. Where my hair had been clipped to my jaw in my youth, it now ran in rampant disarray over my shoulders, shining here and there with the Remembrances. I had wound a red scarf around my forehead to keep my hair out my eyes, and had since secured the white bone to my locks as well. I had also grown a goatee, where I'd twisted a few more of the beads. I was irreversibly a pirate and certainly looked the part. I grinned again at my reflection and pulled on my shirt.
As I opened the door, Cassia stirred behind me, "Jack," she sighed, "come back to bed." She stretched, pulling the sheets away from her lithe form enticingly.
I grinned back at her and pulled the door shut. Always best to leave them wanting more. In the hall, I found Barbossa knocking insistently on a door. "Mate! I envision a great day before us," I pronounced, putting my arm around his shoulders.
He shrugged out from under my arm and I commenced dressing, shrugging into my coat. "We won't be having much of a day at all if Jones doesn't produce the Pearl. Or, if you quartermaster continues to sleep, for that matter," Barbossa continued, pounding against the pine door with his fist.
"Don't worry about that, Barbossa. Everything will work out. Just bring the crew to the port in the next half an hour, " I left him then, descending the stairs. I picked my way over a few sailors who didn't make it our of the tavern the night before. I swiped a full bottle of rum from one sleeping gentleman's hand and took a taste. "A good day, indeed." I whistled a jaunty tune as I made my way toward the quiet port.
The sun was just rising and the sky was clear. The air smelled salty and fresh. A few fishermen where loading gear into their boats. They gave me a wide berth as I made arrangements to buy a longboat. I chuckled at them. I didn't envy their lifestyle at all. Home and hearth was something I'd renounced long ago, along with scraping for coins and working too hard. And, with the captaincy, I hoped to work even less.
My mood continued through the morning. By the sun, it was almost seven when Barbossa joined me with the rest of the crew. Kolibrí bounced up to me and chirped her good morning cheerfully, despite the fact that she'd had her share of ale the night before. I saw that she'd procured a few more clothes and tied a scarf in her hair as well. Rather than disguise her beauty, it only served to emphasize it.
"Captain Jack, I can't wait to see the ship!" she crowed, scanning the horizon the same way I was. She still spoke in French with me, but in English with the crew.
"Me either, love," I remarked. I was anxious, but not nearly as much as Barbossa. He stood at my right side, searching the seas eagerly.
We didn't have to wait long. The Flying Dutchman broke the surface of the sea with a roar. Her great bow resembled a swordfish smile and dripped water and seaweed. The timbers were black with brine and saltwater, but she held together as though she's been carved from a single tree. The sails were tattered and torn, but then, the Dutchman didn't need a weather breeze to get from one port to another.
Barbossa and I made for the longboat. Bootstrap and Kolibrí followed in kind. Once we'd navigated through the now-bustling port, we rowed for the Dutchman. I hadn't seen her too closely the night I met Davy Jones. Rowing up to something so fearsome was a daunting task. Luckily, I had enthusiasm and three eager sailors on my side, so we reached her quickly.
When we climbed aboard the vessel, I was prepared to see the horrific crew and Jones awaiting me. However, there was not a soul in sight. Suddenly, I felt Kolibrí's arm on my left sleeve, "Captain Jack?" she murmured, fear coating her words. I looked at her and followed her gaze.
The mast to her left had sprung an arm. And then a leg. And another arm, brandishing an axe! A tall, er, pirate with the head of a hammerhead shark leapt away from the mast with a snarl, "Crew!" At that command, more disgusting sailors peeled themselves from the walls. It was as if they were part of the ship itself. I shuddered.
Shark Head stepped in front of me. He loomed above me by about half a foot and his rows of sharp teeth didn't help me to feel any better. I merely took a step back. My crew did the same. "Well, sir, I am in need of your captain. If you'll tell him that Captain Sparrow is here, I'm sure I can be off you boat in no time," I explained, gesturing wildly with my hands. I had heard somewhere that one can distract a shark with a lot of movement in different directions. It didn't work. He took a giant step toward me.
"I know who you be and de cap'n know you is here," the thing snarled. He didn't back off, but he did secure the axe to his belt and cross his powerful-looking arms over his massive chest, "He will come when he ready."
I grinned, "Lovely. We'll, uh, just wait then." We backed all the way to the bulwark and leaned there, doing my very best to look at ease. The rest of my crew were not doing so well. I think Kolibrí was doing the best job of it, however. Her chin was held high and she'd crossed her arms over her chest. Another member of the crew, this time it was burly pirate with barnacles covering his face, walked up to her and tried to run a fat finger down her jawline. I caught his slimy hand before it touched her. "I'd be thinking twice before doing that, mate."
He was shorter than I, but twice as broad. He took a rough step towards me, but I had my cutlass at his throat before he could grasp a weapon. "Well, ain't no woman what sails with pirates. Mayhap she be Jack's young man, eh?" he said, stepping back. The crew exploded with laughter. It wasn't exactly the merry, heartwarming kind, either.
Jones' appearance cut them off, however. He stepped onto the deck, banging his cane down against the oaken planks with a resounding bang. "Enough!" he roared. He marched toward me and my crew. I heard Bootstrap offer a quick prayer to the Holy Mother and Barbossa just stared. "Well, if it isn't Jack Sparrow come to collect his debt."
"It's Captain now, thanks to you," I said cheerfully.
"Indeed," he said, stopping before me and peering into my face again. The odor wasn't nearly as bad as it had been inside he tavern, but it was still unpleasant. One of his beard tentacles reached up and stroked the bone in my hair. He suddenly laughed uproariously, expelling a small gust of foul breath. "How the mighty have fallen, eh Jack?"
"My ship, Captain Jones," I snapped. He stood back from me before laughing again. "Please," I added.
"Fine. I am a man of honor, let no man say otherwise!" he proclaimed, holding his pipe aloft.
The crew answered in unison, "Aye! A man of honor!"
"Well, it's been lovely to see you again, Jones," I began. He stopped me from saying anymore by pushing his face into mine again. He was so close, I could see the blood pulsing beneath his slimy skin. I wrinkled my nose, but held firm.
"Keep that in mind in thirteen years, Jack Sparrow! You'll be spending a great more time with me then!" he proclaimed, laughing again. The crew joined him in that round.
I just clasped my hands together and looked pointedly at the sun. "Oh, but it's getting late," I started. Jones whirled on me and I held mum.
"Fetch the impatient young captain his ship!" Jones commanded. I grinned broadly. Even Barbossa smiled. The sight was rather unpleasant, but still heartening.
Over the opposite rail I saw her emerge from the sea. She sailed up elegantly, rather than making the foul splash the Dutchman had made. Her sails were furled, but I could see that they were black. I judged her to be nearly two hundred feet from bowsprit to transom and probably half that to her mast. She was breathtaking.
She sailed towards us, unmanned presumably. I could see she had two gun decks and was probably forty feet at the beam. No wonder she was unbeatable. But, could she run? I wondered. As she ran alongside us, I felt lightheaded. I couldn't wait to board her. Indeed, I strode across the Dutchman's deck and made to jump the short distance when Jones' slimy arm slithered around mine. I turned.
"Yes?" I asked, shortly.
He touched my hand. Where his touch was cold and slimy, there was an unusual warmth in my palm. I looked down. Black grew like spilled ink across my palm, and just as quickly disappeared.
"The Black Spot," Jones said. "When you see it once more, you'll know your time as captain is up. Consider it a parting gift from one captain to another."
"Yes, well, um, thanks, I guess. I must be going now, don't find me, I'll find you, all right?" I said, climbing the rail. I looked pointedly at my crew, "Gents? Miss?" They scurried across the deck and joined me as I jumped the distance.
Landing on the deck of the Pearl sent a shiver through me. She was solid as a rock under my boots, swaying ever so gently on the waves. I wanted to explore her, touch and caress each of her boards, carvings, details. I wanted to know her like a lover. I started toward the grand cabin. Barbossa held me back.
"Captain? Hadn't we ought to -" he began.
"Get the hell out of here!" Bootstrap cut him off. He was already scrambling up the mainmast to unfurl the sail. Kolibrí followed suit on the mizzen. Barbossa made for the foremast.
I looked behind me, Jones was staring at me, a smile on his face. "Why don't you take her for a run, Jack?" he called, "Load the guns!" he ordered. His crew jumped to.
"Bugger," was all I managed before jumping to the quarterdeck and landing behind the wheel. She was an ornate cherry bit and she found my hands as though we were meant to be. I turned her had to the starboard. As soon as the sails were set (no simple task for three sailors) she caught the wind. We were lengths away from the Dutchman before they'd even fired a single shot. She could run.
I glanced behind me. Jones' laughter carried through the wind to my hearing. They did not give chase. Perhaps he'd never meant to fire. I didn't care. I was facing the horizon and I was home.
Bootstrap and Kolibrí rowed back to shore in the longboat, towing the Pearl's dinghy to retrieve the crew. As soon as they'd shoved off from the ship, Barbossa turned to me. "Well, Jack, what're your plans now?"
I grinned at him. "I think we'd ought to find a ship and do a little honest pirating, mate."
He nodded, but didn't return my smile. I was beginning to think his earlier reaction to the Pearl was his joyful allotment for the year. I shrugged it off.
Soon, the crew was aboard and we made our way towards the open waters near the coast of Port-Royal, where there were bound to be some incoming ships. My pockets had been feeling a bit light in the past week, and I was eager for some coin. Or jewels. I never had enough of those, either.
We weren't on the hunt long before we overcame a small merchant brig called the Widow's Wake. I still marveled at the Pearl's speed and didn't have time to contemplate the ominous name. She wasn't flying the Roger, so she was fair game. And, the ship didn't even try to fight once we'd run alongside her.
Most of the crew boarded her alongside me. The Wake's crew were of the knee-knocking variety, so we didn't have to threaten them any. Just as I'd seen Kensington do the first day I saw him, I asked for the captain. A slender man strode from the quarterdeck and faced me boldly, his arms clasped behind his back. I took him to be a former navy man. "I'm the captain. And just who are you?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service. Now, if you could be at my service for a moment, I have a need of the contents of your hold," I explained, jovially. Captaincy was practically a euphoria all its own and now, I got to order people around on top of it!
"I think that is highly out of the question, Sparrow. But, I'd be happy to see you back to your, er, vessel there," the captain replied, with a derogatory sneer at the Pearl. I was as offended as though he'd insulted my own mother, rest her soul. But, I said nothing. He only needed a little more persuasion. I never got the chance to do that persuading.
Barbossa drew his sword before I could say another word and placed it at the captain's throat. The poor man turned seven shades of white, but held firm. I turned and stared incredulously at my first mate. Once the horrible scene registered in my brain, I pushed Barbossa's sword down so that the only threat it posed was to the deck. "Really, Barbossa, I can handle it," I sneered.
I unsheathed my own sword, but held it facing the deck. I turned back to the captain. The man was rubbing his throat and murmuring a prayer. He'd been so startled, he hadn't thought to draw on me or my mate. "If you'll excuse my mate's zeal, I'd like to be shown to the cargo now." I repeated. The pale man nodded and turned for me to follow. On my way, I fixed Barbossa with another questioning stare. He had the nerve to shrug and make that almost-grin at me, as though he'd helped! I shook my head.
I assessed the hold. There were rugs, linens, and pewterware, as well as odd pieces of furniture and china. "Are you moving your home or selling these wares, captain?" I asked, conversationally. He did not answer. "Well, never mind then. It will all fetch a price." I unlatched a trunk and held a ladies' silk chemise aloft. It was so faint, I could see through it. I let it slip back through my fingers and arched an eyebrow at the captain. "Sailing does have it's slow moments, eh, captain?" He didn't reply. "Or not." I shrugged and ascended back to the deck.
"It's good, mates! Get below decks and transfer the goods," I announced with a grin. The crew answered my command with alacrity. I grinned again. A man could get used to this. I vaulted back to the Pearl. When I saw that my mate had followed, I headed toward the cabin. Before I entered I tossed over my shoulder, "Once the crew has secured the plunder, make a heading for Tortuga. I want this sold and the money in our pockets before twilight." When I head Barbossa head toward the quarterdeck, I turned.
My voice was icy, but not angry, "And mate, please refrain from interfering like that again." I smirked at him and entered into the privacy of the cabin.
Barbossa and I stayed out of one another's way from then on. It was as though the qualities I'd seen in him as a mentor in the days on Hispaniola had never existed. Perhaps I had conjured them as a way to fill he place that Kensington had left empty.
It was not the ideal situation, for a captain and mate to be at odds, but it worked in its own way. Barbossa was an excellent sailor and a better pirate, save for his temper. Bootstrap often served as our go-between, an ally to us both. One could say I was the face of the operation and Hector was the muscle. Of course, I tried to keep him from flexing that muscle as often as I could.
I was successful for almost a year.
As the months passed, my crew changed very little. A few people left and we always gained more back, but the core remained the same. I tried my best to live up to the example Kensington had set, working alongside the crew as long as I could, rarely ordering people around. But, it was tiresome. More often that not, I found myself in the cabin, pouring over star charts and maps of the Caribbean and beyond. I hoped to sail out of the islands one day, perhaps for India. If I wasn't there, I was at the helm, just letting the Pearl guide me. I knew I was never the one in complete control.
Kolibrí was my shadow. She was a fine sailor and could climb the lines and repair any tear in the sails in a way that reminded me of the way I used to dangle above the stage and repair the lamps in the Opera House. She grew less fragile and increasingly beautiful as time went on. She loved to pick through the pretty things we took from other ships, often taking an old gown and fashioning it into a lovely headscarf. I wryly thought of taking her to my native France and letting her loose of the fashion houses on the street where I'd grown up.
However, with each passing day, I could tell she harbored feelings for me that I did not reciprocate. She was like a sister to me, someone I took into my protection, however precarious a situation that was, and taught pirating to. I imagined I felt for her what Kensington had felt for me.
Both problems came to a head during my twenty-third summer. We had just run across a merchant vessel carrying fine silks from Persia. We could not verbally communicate with any of the men on board. I almost felt sorry for them, but they wouldn't get a fair price at any port as it was if they couldn't speak the languages as it was. And, I was a pirate. The Persians understood swords, at least.
I went below decks and tallied the plunder. At my last noticing, silk linens were fetching at least two pounds per item. And with the reams and bolts of fabric I saw before me, I knew I could fetch a tidy sum at any pirate port. I was grinning happily as I took the stairs. Perhaps I'd even give some to Kolibrí to have made into a sash or some such adornment. However, when I stepped onto the deck, the scene before me wiped the smile from my face.
Barbossa was standing over a member of the merchant crew. The man was losing a lot of blood from a wound in his chest. I knew it was mortal. The rest of the crew were holding their arms against the frightened Persian crew, but none made a move. I knew they'd only drawn to protect themselves. Barbossa had most likely dealt the first blow. For what reason, I didn't know and didn't care.
"Drop your arms! And load the cargo!" I commanded. I stared at Barbossa. He did nothing to disguise his guilt. In fact, he wiped the bloody blade across the dying man's shirt. The crew did not move until I bellowed, "Now!" I'd never bellowed anything at them before, and they knew I was serious. They scurried to the task, leaving Barbossa. I took a step toward him. He didn't even have the courtesy to step back.
I pointed to the Black Pearl. Barbossa rolled his eyes at me. "Come on, Jack, he was going to start something. I was protecting you and the crew."
"You'll call me Captain, Hector. And I know bloody well you're lying," my voice was eerily calm, even to my own ears. It was the voice I'd heard over the dinner table at the manor years before. I took a deep breath and swallowed hard before continuing in a voice more like my own. "Look around you," I gestured, encompassing the crew who still stood, staring at their fallen mate. "They aren't pirates! They're men, as honest as we are thieving. You can't go around killing everyone who looks at you strange! There won't be any honest men to steal from if you keep doing that!" I was breathless with my little speech, and anger still roiled beneath my calm exterior.
Barbossa took a step towards the rail, "Now, Jack, if you don't kill a few that cross you, you won't have any name for yourself."
"And if I did kill those that crossed me, I'd have no one to tell my name to," I spat back. "And that's the second time you've addressed me so informally. I'll ask you not to do it again."
"Of course, Captain," he said, clearly mocking me. The crew was transferring the last of the silks to the Pearl as Barbossa leapt over the space between the ships. I made to follow them.
The crew of the Persian vessel converged upon the dead man. I strode toward them and they dispersed. On closer inspection, I saw that the deceased had only been a boy. I gritted my teeth and dug out a few coins from my pocket. I laid them over the boy's eyes and boarded my ship.
Barbossa had leisurely assumed the post at the wheel. I glared at him as I passed. Bootstrap laid his hand on my arm and I looked up at him. "You have to understand something about Hector, Captain," he began.
I walked away before he could finish. I looked back at him before entering my sanctuary, "Mate, there are some things I never want to know." I closed the door.
A few hours later, a knock sounded at my door. I could see Kolibrí's lithe from outlined against the window. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and took a pull from the bottle of rum on the table before me. "Come in," I called.
She opened the door. She was carrying a triangle of the silk fabric we'd confiscated today. She held it before her, like a talisman. It was a short sash of black silk, the threads so fine they slid over my fingers like a breeze. Kolibrí knelt at my side and wordlessly wound the length around my wrist, her long, slender fingers playing on my skin. Her touch and the silk's texture sent a shiver down my back and warmth bloomed in my gut.
I looked down into her face. Her lids were low, her smoky eyelashes skimming her cheeks. The low lamplight turned her cinnamon skin into the color of warm mocha. Her lips were full and red as though she'd been biting them. The effect was mesmerizing.
She held my hands between hers. She removed the linen I'd tied around my palms to keep the lines from blistering them. Then, she put them on her face. Her narrow cheekbones had filed out since I'd first met her. Unable to resist the feel of her warm skin, I let my fingers stroke her jawline, smoothing a stray silky strand back from her neck. I traced her collarbone and the hollow of her throat.
She held my hand again and kissed my fingertips. A jolt traveled from the point of her lips to the growing pool of desire in my lower belly. I held back a groan. She pushed herself up and sat in my lap. I did groan. She put her lips over mine and kissed me deeply. Before I could think, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled the scarf from her hair, allowing the black locks to trickle through my fingers as though liquid. But then, my mind overran my senses and I held her back from me.
"You don't know what your doing, love," I said, my voice borderline ragged with desire. She smiled at me. Her perfect row of white teeth lighting up her whole face.
"I do, Jack. I want you. I want this," she kissed my throat and moved lower, parting my linen shirt with her long fingers and burning lips. I let my head fall back. I pushed her away once more and looked her in the eyes.
"You deserve better, Kolibrí. I can't love you like you should be loved. We can't do this," I said. It was probably the hardest thing I'd ever forced myself to do. She was looking at me, wanton passion practically burning through her eyes, and I was saying no.
She stood and crossed her arms over her chest. She was deeply hurt, I could see it. I opened my mouth to explain, but she simply held up her hand and shook her head. She walked out of my cabin and did not look back.
The next day at port, she slipped away from the crew and I never saw her again.