Disclaimer: Recognizable PotC characters belong to the Kingdom of the Mouse; the historical figures belong to history and the others are mine, mine, mine. Strictly for pleasure, no profit is being made or dreamt of. Mistakes are mine.
Rating: PG 13 for the odd bad word or scenario
Note: Now that PotC2 is out, this story is clearly canon up to that point and AU after that. No matter. It's my story and I can do what I want with it. g
Chapter Twelve. Squall Line Ahead.
Tortuga sweltered and steamed under the Caribbean sun, the odoriferous perfume Jack had once boasted about to Will Turner transformed into a stomach-wrenching miasma down along the docks and harbour front. Local sanitation not being one of the town's strong suits, that fact only added further nuances to the stench of fish guts and swine offal amidst the dregs of human habitation. Through long practice Jack did not attempt to draw in too deep a breath lest the reek turn even his inured senses and stomach. Mind you, Tortuga at night was a different story altogether when the local establishments did the majority of their trade, the darkness obscuring some of the less than bucolic scenery and its attendant nymphs and satyrs and worshipers of Dionysus.
Alcoholic and fleshly delights aside, the crew would have its time ashore to keep them content but the preparations would be done in quick time. Jack did not intend to linger in Tortuga for more than a few days but he would make certain they took on fresh food and water and enough stores of dried foods to last for some time. They would take advantage of other islands when they were able, or the occasional vessel that presented itself for plundering, but it was always wise to stay on top of the situation. He could not predict what they would encounter in this new venture but he was quite certain that the unexpected would be part of it.
He had found a source for good black powder not so long back and thus the Black Pearl had her magazine full. They had been practicing with the new powder and he had made notes of the ranges achieved with weight of shot and varying quantities of powder, level shooting and on the up roll until he was satisfied with their performance and felt confident in his knowledge of his ship's capability. Of all things, the quality and consistency of the gun powder was the greatest variable of artillery and it paid to get the best to be found. Jack had learned decades past to eliminate as much of chance as he could when it came to his guns and was still alive and afloat as proof of his attention to this detail; at least, on those occasions where he had been able to control the shots.
For the next few days, Jack and his officers prowled the stews of Tortuga when they were not overseeing the work on the Pearl, keeping their ears and eyes open for anything that could be of use. He made certain to pay his respects to some of the higher echelon in the town, not all his acquaintance or connections were to be found in the dives situated haphazardly along the waterfront. There actually were finer residences and people of a fancier class to be found in the more pleasant areas away from the harbour, including the mansion of the governor of the colony.
Jack could not see any great difference in the quality of rogues to be found in either venue, aside from the trappings and pretty words. In some ways, the dishonest of the waterfront ale houses and brothels were the more honest of the lot and he knew where he stood with them without having to put on airs and graces. That being said, Jack was perfectly able and willing to make use of the upper echelon and its peculiarities. Gold had an obliging ability to appeal across the boundaries of class and station, a most useful trait as long as the buyer had deep pockets and the seller few scruples.
On their fourth day in port, Sparrow decided to pay a little visit to Léon Henri de Boucicault, a contact he had used to fence substantial amounts of goods in the past, to the mutual satisfaction of both parties. Léon Henri also had a particularly talented nose for ferreting out snippets of profitable information useful in many quarters around the islands and the Main itself and as Jack was in the market for information it was to Léon Henri's establishment that he toddled into.
The servant showed the pirate captain into the inner sanctum of the house; like many hereabouts, the exterior façade was barred and shuttered off from the narrow streets and boules. The inner courtyard was not overly large but pleasant and cool around the fountain, a trick borrowed from the Moors via the Spanish, and far enough from the harbour to be rid of the stenches, depending upon which way the winds blew. Jack parked himself on a shaded bench situated conveniently close to the fountain and propped his boots up on the edge, relaxing for a moment. A light noise signalled the arrival of a brass tray with refreshments placed quietly on the table beside him. Jack helped himself to some of the fruits preserved in syrup before pouring out a glass of the red wine and juice mixture that was so tasty in the heat. It may not have been his preferred rum but Jack was perfectly content with the alternative. He sipped his drink whilst he waited for his host to make his appearance, his thoughts rambling idly for the moment.
A half hour had passed before Léon Henri wandered in to join his guest. Jack cocked an eyebrow at the sight of the diminutive and rotund man dressed in a florid silk robe with embroidered Moroccan leather slippers peeking below. The little fellow had an unfortunate taste for the exotic and sadly lacked sufficient stature to carry off his peacock tendencies. The eye-searing brilliant blues, reds and yellows vibrated merrily away as the hot sun reflected blindingly off the bald pate and thick lensed spectacles until Jack was actually relieved when his friend entered the shadowed part of the patio to join him. He poured another glass of sangria and waved a hand, generously indicating for his host to partake.
Léon Henri plopped down onto the pile of lushly embroidered and tasselled cushions at the other end of the bench and wriggled until he had excavated a comfortable nest for his ample rear before he reached out to take up his glass with stubby, heavily ringed fingers. Jack watched the performance and grinned brightly at it as he usually did before thoughtfully shoving over the footstool so the slippered feet did not have to dangle uncomfortably above the tiled floor. For his part, Jack was content to remain at his end of the bench lest the generously applied perfumes drift overly close to his sensitive nostrils and set off a round of sneezing.
"Ah, merci, mon ami. It 'as been some time since you graced my 'umble door. I 'ad begun to think you 'ad forgotten poor Léon Henri in your travels."
"Never would I be doing that, Léon Henri. I have but to think of Tortuga and there you appear in my mind, indescribably resplendent or is that resplendently indescribable?"
"You flatter me with your visit, Capitaine Sparrow. I 'ad 'eard that the Black Pearl was in 'arbour, making repairs and provisioning as if for a voyage to parts undisclosed. I would 'ave been so désolé 'ad you not 'ad time to come and visit my most modest abode."
"Well, we can't have that, now, eh? I would be so distressed to cause you so much upset when there's really no cause for worry. You know I always come to you when I want to hear all the latest gossip and goings-on. I still don't know how you manage to hear some of the things you do but will just have to chalk it up to your greater facility for such things."
The pair of scoundrels beamed at each other, the flattery not disguising Jack's real intent for this not wholly social visit. The little fellow sitting beside Jack relaxed deeper into his silken cushions, his beady eyes in the round face giving an impression of a fat frog or toad squatting in anticipation for an unsuspecting fly to pass by. Jack had to shake his head a bit to cancel the image, unfortunately exacerbated by the heavy round spectacles which made Léon Henri's eyes appear quite bulbous and damp.
In turn, Jack stretched out a bit further and took another swallow of his drink, appreciating the beneficial effects of the fruit juices on the rough red wine. Amenities taken care of, the pair began their negotiations for bartering present and future goods for current information and quality rumours. There was no hurry for their deliberations so the two oddly matched men spent the rest of the afternoon at the task, coming to an accord over a table laden with delectables in the early evening.
They shook on the deal and Jack stood and stretched mightily like a large lazy cat before bidding Léon Henri farewell for the nonce. His host was most pleased with the bargain reached and enveloped the pirate in an encompassing embrace, kissing Jack first on one cheek and then the other in the Continental manner and almost overwhelming him with the heavy chypre perfume wafting from the silks. He accompanied his guest to the hallway and bade him good sailing and good hunting. Jack grinned at the businessman, surreptitiously checking his garments before he exited, Léon Henri having had a profitable early career as a pickpocket. Whistling merrily to himself, Sparrow waited until he was out of sight of his host before taking out the bauble he had pickpocketed in turn from the Frenchman, tossing it lightly from hand to hand as he sauntered down the street to return to his beloved Pearl.
----
Jack was in a jovial mood, satisfied with the unfolding of events so far. He had not only bargained the fence into decent rates for the particular goods the crew would unload in the morning, subject to inspection, he had also managed to get some information regarding the latest raids that had the Royal Navy all atwitter. He figured that could be turned to his advantage but upon further rumination, he decided he did not like these new players on his stage. Very wasteful they were and up to no good, no, no good at all. Not at all what an honest pirate like himself wanted to have running about, disturbing the nice even flow of business.
He decided that he would check on how the work was going on his ship and then reward himself with a visit to the Faithful Bride. He worked his jaw in fond reminiscence of previous visits to the Bride, slaps and punches taking equal time in his memories. He passed his tongue along a gold tooth that was a souvenir of one such encounter and decided that perhaps a new tattoo would be a better choice on his part. If Old Sylvestre was yet above ground, then Jack had a patch of unmarked skin for him to work his needles on. With that thought, Jack picked up his pace; he had an entire night's pleasures to get started on and he was wasting precious time lollygagging in the street like this.
He returned to his ship, the mere sight of her tall masts and massive timbers bringing a gleam to his eyes as always. He had not lied to Elizabeth Swann on the occasion of their marooning on that forsaken islet about what a ship meant; he had not had the Pearl back in his possession long enough for the fears to totally subside each time he left her sheltering hull. He walked along the dock and boarded her pausing to talk to Gibbs who was ticking off the supplies from his list as they were hauled up in the nets to be lowered into the aft hold.
"Well, Mr. Gibbs, how's the work proceeding?"
"Fine, Jack, 't won't be long 'fore we've got this lot stowed away as snug as you like. Once we're done securin' it, then it's just the for'ard hold to finish off, plus what's stashed on deck for the little Froggie, and we'll be ready to head over to the usual place to fill up the water barrels and wood for the galley."
"Good. Good. That's what I want to hear."
"Any idea where we'll be heading out for, now that we're about ready? You've not mentioned anything so far, aside from not lingering about Tortuga for long this trip. The crew's curious, ya know." The Pearl's quartermaster was just as curious as the rest of the crew but he had the advantage of position with the captain to winkle out any news.
"What have they been saying, Gibbs?"
"Nothing very much just yet, they're still going about their shore leave when they ain't working aboard the Pearl. Haven't really had time for ought else. They are sailors, ya know."
"Will have to decide when I've a moment… where we're going, that is. For now, finish off the loading and take a spot of leave your own self."
Jack saw no reason his friend should miss having a reunion with his favourite porcines; they were not to his own preferences but chacûn à son goût, as the French liked to say. Actually the French seemed to say quite a lot, now that he considered the matter. He shrugged very Gallicly, there were other things he was more interested in than the French and their bons mots. Besides, he had a notion that Giselle might be available for a little recreational activity with Captain Jack Sparrow, especially as his pockets were more flush than they had been at other times in their acquaintance. He continued with his instructions to the burly officer.
"Just make sure there's a good watch left on board; now that the Pearl is provisioned and there's cargo still to be picked up, there might be someone out there stupid enough to make a try for something and, as you know full well, there's no lack of the stupid."
Joshamee grinned at his captain, his fine side whiskers bristling out in matching good humour. "I'll be along in a while, then, Jack. The tide'll turn just afore the sun's at its peak so I'm assuming we'll be making our way out then."
"Right you are, Josh. My hands are startin' to itch and I see no reason not to scratch, eh?"
Jack clapped his quartermaster heartily on a shoulder before turning to swagger and mince his way back down to the dock and into town. Gibbs snickered at the thought that Jack's hands were not the only things needing a bit of a scratching. The older man watched his captain's progress for a few moments, just shaking his head in amused resignation at the apparent inability of the Sparrow to walk down the road like a normal man, before turning back to bellow in irritation at a careless labourer quayside.
----
The Faithful Bride was not difficult to find for it was a most popular tavern and the traffic led naturally to its doors. Had a visitor had any hesitation about locating it, he would only have had to follow the noise and altercations in the street outside the Bride's doors. The rules of the establishment were simple, drink heartily, fight and gamble, cheat and whore to one's heart's content or until one's pockets were empty. Murdering one's fellows was frowned upon, more for loss of potential revenue than moral issues, and serious fights were broken up, the offenders tossed out the nearest door or window.
Should they happen to land in the filth in the street or in with the neighbour's swine, no matter. The sow was known to be unusually tolerant of sudden visitors; it seemed she was partial to the occasional bucket of ale or the more redolent drinkers who joined her in the sty. Possibly Mercedes the Sow mistook them for odd-looking relatives but no one knew for certain, they merely accepted her benign welcome whenever they happened to land in the muck with her, fending off the inquisitive wet snout if they were sufficiently conscious.
It was to the Bride that Jack's steps took him. By this time, the denizens of the waterfront were wide awake and settling in for their night's work and entertainment; after all, why would any sensible person want to do aught than sleep through the heat of the day? As Jack approached the establishment, he noted that festivities were already in full swing which promised for a lively night. He smiled in happy anticipation, the flickering light of the torches and fires reflecting from his gold and silver teeth, as he preened his moustache prior to making his entry. Jack paused for a moment on the threshold to allow the watchers to take proper note of his arrival before stepping inside to the din.
He swayed and swaggered over to the bar for the large leathern mug the keep was filling in anticipation. Passage across the tavern floor was always an adventure and an exercise in vigilance, not to mention quick reflexes, but Jack had practiced the art long and diligently and avoided the obstacles along his path. Occasionally, successful crossings were achieved by blind luck, which he had no objection to so long as Luck smiled on him and not the other bloke. It did not take long until he was over by the corner table he favoured and it only took a second-best threatening glare to encourage the drinkers already seated there that other tables were really better choices for their health, after all.
He seated himself with a flair of coat tails, swinging his sword out of the way by his side, then tossed his beaded braids out of his way, arranging his limbs most artfully in accord with his image, and took a moment to primp his moustache and beard. He had spotted several of his crew amidst the carousers making merry this night and more than likely there might be more on the upper floor or around the darker nooks outside the inn's walls. The crew on shore leave did not tend to stray far from the waterfront; why should they when all they wished was so conveniently to hand?
The other side to the Faithful Bride was its function as a clearing house for news and rumour and Jack wanted every tidbit he could winnow out of the smoky atmosphere. Information was a valuable commodity and he was adept at acquiring it in the least likely places. Tonight's trawling should be rewarding, judging from the itching in his palm, always a good sign of things to come his way. Jack scanned the room as he tipped his mug for a long swallow, remembering to thank his ancestors for passing along their cast iron bellies even whilst enjoying the burn of the liquor as it worked its way down his gullet. He bobbed an eyebrow philosophically at the quality of the rum before him, knowing there were far better and worse sorts, even as he took another swallow. He should know, after all, he had had his share of both ends of the spectrum.
For a while, Jack sat peaceably and worked on his tankard. He had not yet seen Giselle about but there was more than enough activity about to keep him well entertained. He noticed a figure in the shadows along the upper passage off to his right and recognized a man he really would like to have a little chat with. Upon that thought, Jack stood up and swayed for a moment like a tree in a high wind and then wandered along and up the stairs, following along the hall as he watched his quarry sling an arm around one of the working women plying her trade in the Faithful Bride. The pair made their way to one of the doors at the end and lurched inside, preparatory to whatever services the bloke could afford, closing the stained and scratched door behind them.
Before they could get down to their business, Jack had affected an entrance and slipped inside unnoticed. He cleared his throat noisily to get their attention, to the indignation of both parties, and motioned to the woman to vacate the chamber with a sharp jerk of his head. She glared at him and folded her arms across her ample bosom, barely contained in the red and yellow bodice. Jack scowled and jerked his head towards the open doorway twice more, using an eyebrow to emphasize the command. She scowled even more furiously and continued to stand her ground, shaking her head in refusal.
Jack knew a losing cause when he saw one, on occasion, and huffed in disgust. There was only one solution to the dilemma that he knew of and it galled him to have to resort to using it. He knew he would not be able to budge her physically, she was not only as tall as he was but twice his girth; he could tell, being a man of experience, that it was not all soft flesh and skirts. The bare arms and shoulders that he could see would have made a prize fighter envious.
Accepting defeat less than gracefully, Jack fished around in the folds of his sash and drew out a silver coin. He held it up to her and made a silent offer, gesturing again toward the door. She grasped the coin and inspected it; finding it to her satisfaction, she grinned toothily, dark places showing a few pickets missing in the fence, and sallied forth with a coy come-hither glance at her benefactor. Jack shuddered and closed the door behind her, carefully bracing the chair under the latch to prevent further interruptions. He turned to look at the man sitting abandoned on the rumpled bed and ignored the stunned expression on the wrinkled face.
"Well, well, well. Just the very man I wanted to see. How have you been, Charlie my man? Keeping well, I trust?"
For a moment, the skinny bloke sat and gibbered, the loose wattle under his chin flapping about like a sail with a loose sheet. He had expected some time with Elsie and then to have Jack blasted Sparrow interfere was beyond his ken but his ire helped the blood return to his upper storeys. By the time he had recovered himself enough to voice his objections to the insult, the pirate captain had approached the bed and placed a booted foot up on the straw pallet beside him.
"Wot gives ya the roight to come in 'ere and send Elsie away loik that? I'm the one as paid fer her, all right an' proper. Ya want yer turn with 'er, ya waits yer turn. Ya hear that, Sparrow!"
"Don't worry so much, mate, Elsie won't go far and we'll soon be finished with our business and then you can go do whatever your little head wants tonight, depending on what coin you have to offer her."
Charlie sat up and crossed his arms sullenly over his chest, a pout on his wizened face giving him the appearance of a scrawny little gnome. He really hated Sparrow at times; the man could charm most of the women around Tortuga without much effort. He perked up a bit at recollecting how many of those same women were so willing to slap the pirate captain into seeing stars; Jack was not always able to evade their fast hands.
"Well, yer've got me attention now, Wot'cher want, anyways, Sparrow?" Charlie's petulant voice betraying his origins within the sound of Bow Bells in London town to all and sundry.
"Ah, the voice of reason surfaces. I have a simple business transaction to put to you, Charlie. You have a fine knack for hearing odd bits and pieces of news as they drift by you and I happen to be curious to know what you've been hearing lately. In fact, I might even be in the market for news, as it were." Jack accented his words with a gold coin that he manipulated back and forth across his knuckles, passing it close enough so Charlie went cross-eyed as he followed the coin avidly.
"In the market, ya say, Jack? Any thing in perticlar ya wants to know about? There's lots of things goin' on so ya needs to tell me more."
"Lots of goings on, indeed. I want to know all you know about whatever it is that has the Royal bloody Navy so up in arms right now."
"'eard about that already, did ya?"
"Hm-hmm. Keep going, Charlie." A second coin joined the first, and the little man's eyes took on an avaricious gleam. Jack watched the expressions cross the face and smiled in satisfaction at having well-hooked his fish.
"There's not been all that much to hear but there've bin a few whispers about."
Charlie paused and waited for Jack to make the next move in their negotiations. Jack waited in turn, not bothering to add any more coin to the offer until the other man anted up. He was not about to pay good money for nothing and knew the smell of gold would get results; he could out-wait Charlie any day when he felt like it. Charlie peered at Jack's impassive face and he gave a resigned sigh; he knew Sparrow had him beat and Elsie would be around to take advantage of whatever he gained from the Pearl's captain.
"There's bin some fishing villages attacked, the people killed or taken."
"Yes, Charlie, I already know that part. Keep goin'. I want to know who these raiders are, where they berth, where they do their business, and anything else you've heard about."
"They's 'eavily armed; the chief ship sends in the smaller ones to do the deeds. Wot I've 'eard is they be Frenchies or summat out of the north."
"Where in the north? And what are they about?"
"Up there 'round the mouth of the river and them marshy bits. Ya know, that place wot that brother of that ol' sea dog of their'n started."
"What ol' sea dog? You mean d'Iberville? That sea dog?"
"Yeah, that's the one. That Orleans place. An' down the Floridas, too."
"Who's leading them, Charlie? I need to know everything you do and don't waste my time or lie to me. You know I can always tell when you're lying so don't bother. Now, hurry up."
Jack's patience took an abrupt drop; he had a sudden feeling that time had just grown short and he wanted to get out to sea quickly. Charlie caught the shift in expression and shivered at the realization of the danger standing beside him. Sparrow usually presented a benign face around Tortuga but Charlie remembered some of the darker stories about the pirate and knew them for truth. He hurriedly told the captain every little detail and rumour he had heard and waited for his reaction. It came after a pause where Sparrow went absolutely still for moment before tossing several gold coins onto the mattress along side of the Cockney. When Charlie looked up after securing the payment, Sparrow had vanished like he had never been there. The grubby little fellow shrugged; he had his payment and there were women and drink to be had. He did not care what Sparrow did with the information, just so long as gold and silver came his way.
TBC
A/N. Thanks as always to those who have taken the time to leave a review; I love/live to hear from others who hang in there with my slow postings.
For those who may be interested, Pierre le Moyne, Sieur d'Iberville, was one of a large and prominent early Québec family. His exploits are the stuff of legend and, had he been based in France, rather than the New World, far more people would know of him today. He was one of the great explorers and campaigned effectively and ruthlessly in many areas, from Hudson Bay to Newfoundland and down to the Caribbean, before dying of fever (possibly malaria or yellow fever) in Havana, Cuba, in 1706. Some links for those who may like more information about a genuine soldier, sailor and freebooter are:
http/ for New Orleans, it was founded by Jean Baptiste le Moyne, Sieur de Bienville, one of d'Iberville's brothers. Mobile and Biloxi are two of the places founded by d'Iberville along the way.
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