Chapter Thirty-Eight ~*~
~O~
Barbossa, wearing a self-satisfied smirk, lowered the glass and called down to Gibbs. "Hoist the colors!" he barked cheerfully, and Gibbs relayed the order across the deck to the mainmast.
"Mr. Kempthorne," Jack called down a heartbeat later, "blow the lady a kiss good morning!" He then bounded lightly down the stairs to the deck below.
"Aye, sir!" Turk replied smartly, and he relayed the order to the gun deck.
Five seconds later, the cannon blast reverberated through the ship, and the warning shot ripped through the morning air and across the Trader's bow.
"Smite me crossways!" Gibbs suddenly exclaimed, and those of us on or near the quarterdeck looked first to the man and then to where his gaze had traveled: up the mainmast.
There, it appeared, was flying not the black flag with Barbossa's distinct insignia on it, but a red flag that signaled we would give no quarter.
The effect seeing the crimson colors had on the crew of the Freewind Trader likely was the same as if we had hoisted the black field with skull and crossed swords, but I can tell you that the effect it had upon Barbossa was not.
Barbossa, like the rest of us, had quickly and distractedly glanced at where Gibbs' eyes had shot to the top of the mainmast, as he likewise tried to assess the reaction from his intended prey to the warning shot, but the instantaneous surprised expression of shock and anger present after the double-take he did made the extent of his displeasure quite clear.
For not only was the flag we hoisted not the standard of the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea; not only was it colored crimson instead of black, but there, gracing the mainmast of the most feared ship in the Caribbean, were the remains of my shredded red dress, hoisted high to greet the new day.
Barbossa's face contorted with rage as he surveyed the garment streaming gaily in the wind, gripping the spyglass he held white-knuckled as he managed to hiss only a single word.
"Sparrow!"
~o~
Despite the fact that the Black Pearl flew quite unorthodox red colors that morning, there was not much to be said or done about it once the warning shot had been fired, making it clear that the intentions of our ship were decidedly not cordial.
The Freewind Trader, commanded by a foolish and arrogant young man named Alton Carter, as we would find out shortly, made the significant mistake of firing upon the Black Pearl, as the inexperienced and haughty captain severely misjudged the threat before him and likewise, the skill and enthusiasm for resisting of his crew. He never should have fired that single shot in retaliation.
The impact of the blast hitting our hull sent reverberations across the ship, and Barbossa, already furious at the incident with our colors, was enraged further by both the audacity and stupidity of Captain Carter, and merely gave Turk a meaningful look. Turk, having understood the message contained in the look the two pirates had shared, disappeared below, and thirty seconds later our gun crews set up a barrage of rapid cannon fire that pummeled the daylights out of Carter's ship.
Carter, shocked by the speed and accuracy of the Pearl's guns, and the haste with which the fabled black ship bore down upon him, rapidly changed his mind about resistance of any sort, and quickly had the crew hoist the white flag of surrender. It appeared much too quickly for there to have been any discussion about other courses of action, and the Trader smartly heaved to with her crew gathered complacently and compliantly on deck, feverishly hoping that their captain's indiscretion would not cause them greater reprisal from the pirates.
Our crew was gathered on deck as we came flank-and-flank with the Freewind Trader, bellowing and howling in an un-Godly and daunting manner, and although I understood it merely to be a tactic of intimidation, I remembered well what it was like to be on the receiving end of those war-cries; I admit I felt sorry for the captured crew.
Quickly they swarmed to the deck of the Trader by rope and by gangplanks that had been efficiently laid in place, and began herding the sailors on the merchant ship, as well as the handful of marines who had been stationed aboard to guard her, into a tightly-pressed group near the mizzen mast. Barbossa, having been the one to orchestrate the capture of the vessel, made for the stairs, intending, I am sure, to board the other ship himself. It was probable that he meant to give Carter a piece of his mind for shooting a hole in the Pearl, and that likely didn't bode well for Carter's long-term survival.
But, before Barbossa could reach the bottom of the stairs, Jack, who had appeared on deck again, handily grabbed a rope and swung across to the Trader, landing lightly and gracefully on his feet.
As for me, not knowing what else to do with myself at that moment, I quickly descended the stairs behind Barbossa, thinking to keep close to him, and I collided with the back of him as he pulled up abruptly on the last stair at the sight of seeing Jack commandeering not only the ship, but Barbossa's thunder at commandeering the ship. He snarled wordlessly and then shot me a dark look over his shoulder when I ran into him.
Turk arrived topside a moment after that, intending to join Barbossa in their first boarding together in many a year, but when he saw the look on Barbossa's face as they met up at the rail, with me trailing just behind, he understood instantly what had happened.
"Wouldn't take much to see to it that he remains on that ship when we scuttle 'er," Turk snarled quietly to Barbossa.
"I'll scuttle him," Barbossa spat back in an undertone. "It'd serve the blasted popinjay right."
My two companions carried on resentfully, sharing acrimonious insults and threats toward the Pearl's younger captain, but while they fantasized together about colorful ways to dispose of Jack, I stood at the rail and watched him deal with his flock of captives, curious as to how he might proceed.
While Pintel, Ragetti, and the majority of the Pearl's crew quickly swarmed into the depths of the Trader to search for loot, several more remained on deck with Jack, keeping the prisoners, who had efficiently been disarmed, under control.
Jack strode along slowly, inspecting the small group thoughtfully.
"Where is the captain of this over-stuffed, weather-bitten heifer?" he snarled at the crew, just as he came to stand before the man who was mostly likely in charge.
"I'm the captain," Carter said, speaking up in a manner that contained a lot less arrogance once he'd come, quite literally, face to face with a pirate, and one of quite some notoriety at that.
"You're the captain?" Jack asked, looking the fresh-faced young officer over with marked contempt, as the young man nodded affirmation. "Son, if I were you, I'd stick to floating toy boats in the bath," Jack said insultingly, "and leave the sailing to the men."
Carter seethed with indignation, I could tell even from where I watched from the Black Pearl's rail, but although he lacked sufficient experience to deal with a raid by pirates, he was smart enough not to say to Jack what he probably would have dearly liked to.
"I assure you," Carter answered haughtily, "that I am completely qualified to..."
"To what, my good sir?" Jack asked, just as arrogantly. "To roll over and play dead, like some witless, wet-behind-the-ears pup? To cave in at the first sign of real danger, and capitulate to the demands of cutpurses? Jack gave Carter another pointed look of contempt. "You bloody lay down and hoisted your skirt faster than a drunk Tortuga whore on a slow night the week rent is due."
It took a minute for the insult to fully dawn upon Carter, who, I am sure, had never met or even seen a drunk Tortuga whore, on a slow night or otherwise, and he seethed silently with anger and embarrassment.
"What's your name, boy?" Jack inquired, still flaunting callous disrespect at the poor young man.
"Alston Carter," Carter spat back, nearly trembling with fury.
"Huh," Jack said contemptuously.
"And you are?" Carter asked scornfully.
Jack gave him a look of dark incredulity, and then shook his head in disbelief. "Come here," he said, slipping an arm around Carter's shoulders and leading him a few reluctant steps forward to the rail. "Do you see that ship there?"
"Yes," Carter replied.
"What color is her hull?" Jack asked.
"Black," said Carter.
"Uh huh, and what color, Captain Carter, are her sails?" Jack asked, as if he were trying to be infinitely patient with the man.
"B-black?" Carter asked, not quite sure why Jack was asking him questions with such ridiculously obvious answers, but clearly apprehensive about finding out the reasoning.
"Very good," Jack said condescendingly. "And how many ships...pirate ships, I might add, with a black hull and black sails, sail the Caribbean, plundering, and pillaging and raiding festering, maggot-ridden sea-pigs like this ship here?"
"One," Carter answered, clearly beginning to fret.
"And what might be the name of that dark, ravishing beauty?" Jack asked, gesturing expansively back at the Pearl.
"The Black Pearl?" Carter croaked.
"Aye," Jack said lovingly, "the Black Pearl.
"Now, I have one final question for you," Jack said, tightening his grip around Carter's shoulders and pulling him right to the rail for a closer view of the ebony ship. "If that is the Black Pearl, then who does that make me?"
"Captain Barbossa?" Carter ventured nervously.
"Bloody hell!" Jack spat with disbelief, and poor Carter found himself promptly propelled through the opening in the rail, a look of utter shock on his face as the unfortunate man went airborne. Jack cupped a hand to his ear and leaned over to listen, straightening back up with a satisfied smile upon his face when the splash was heard from below.
"Now," Jack said, whirling and sauntering back across the deck to address the rest of the gathered company, "your Captain Carter will always remember this...
"That is, if he can swim," Jack added as an afterthought and then shrugged, " ...as the day Captain Jack Sparrow sank his ship."
A lot of horrified expressions suddenly faced Jack, and he paused in puzzlement before recovering and smiling diffidently. "Apologies –perhaps that was a bit premature on my part."
Relief spread across the countenances of all the sailors before him.
"We are most decidedly not at the sinking part just yet," Jack explained pleasantly, and looks of dread once more cropped up amongst the Trader's crew.
Next to me, Barbossa's anger had lessened considerably at Carter's comment, and it seemed to amuse him and Turk that Jack had been more than irritated at Barbossa's name being so readily associated with the Black Pearl.
I must admit, if it weren't for the fact that they carried such deadly weapons and possessed a considerable amount of facial hair, I would often suspect that I was dealing with twelve-year-old boys instead of pirates when it came to the rivalry between the two captains.
Across the way on the deck of the Trader, Jack seemed about to address the remaining navy officer, now promoted to commander of the ship by way of Captain Carter's sudden and unexpected leave of absence, but it was at that moment that Pintel and Ragetti appeared topside again, gleefully cackling and bringing forth three prisoners they had found below decks.
A sense of déjà vu coursed through my veins as I watched three women, passengers aboard the EITC ship, being dragged before Jack Sparrow, clearly terrified, and if it weren't for the fact that I was currently incognito as a cabin boy on the Black Pearl, I would have very much liked to have gone to reassure them that no harm would befall them.
My fingers brushed Barbossa's ever so slightly to get his attention. "You won't let anything happen to them, will you?" I asked, clearly pointing out that I felt they should be left unmolested.
"Is it yer wish they be left unharmed?" Barbossa asked softly without looking directly at me. I could hear the subtle playfulness in his words, which echoed the question he'd asked me the day we'd raided the unlucky Essex not so long ago.
"It is," I replied, answering in the same manner I had before.
"Then no harm shall come to them, m'lady," he said softly, flirting with me a little as he gave me his most charming, roguish smile, "since that be yer wish."
I'm afraid I must have met his gaze with one of unabashed adoration at his words, until I saw Turk roll his eyes at the two of us over Barbossa's shoulder. When I glanced at him he made a gesture as if to gag himself with a finger, quickly recovering, however, and adopting a neutral expression when Barbossa turned to see what he was doing.
Our attention was once again caught by the small drama that was playing out on the deck of the Freewind Trader, where Pintel and Ragetti had ushered the three women before Jack at the point of a sword.
"Look wot we found below, Cap'n," Pintel sneered, "tryin' to hide in the holds."
"Tryin' to hide," Ragetti echoed with a gleeful cackle, indicating the three captives redundantly.
There, still in their nightclothes, since the raid had occurred just at the break of day, were three women of varying ages; clearly they were two younger women and a chaperone of some sort.
The first, a young woman of perhaps eighteen or nineteen years, and of notable beauty, stood there completely aghast at what was happening on board her ship. She seemed to be doing her best to hide behind the voluminous cascade of red curls that fell to her waist, clearly wishing she could disappear from the roving eyes of the pirates on deck.
The second, obviously the woman's younger sister by the looks of her hair and her fair complexion, was a girl of perhaps fourteen, pretty for sure, but without quite the mature figure and features yet of her older sibling. I had no doubt from looking at her that she would someday be at least as fetching as her sister. Interestingly enough, while I expected the child to be more frightened than the older women, she clearly possessed a fair measure of morbid curiosity, and watched the goings-on aboard the ship with rapt fascination.
The third woman, clearly a nanny or governess of some sort for the two sisters, was a woman of considerable age, stature and bulk, and although also frightened, it appeared to be that her fear was mostly for her charges, and not necessarily for herself, by the way she protectively clutched each of the girls by a shoulder and glared at the pirates around her.
Jack, looking to kill time while the ship was being looted, and having an audience of the feminine kind, sauntered over to the threesome, clearly with his sights set on the fetching older sister.
"Well, and here we clearly have the rarest and loveliest gems aboard this vessel," he said, instantly cordial, and he favored the three women with one of his charming, boyish grins. This caused the older sister to timidly hide more behind her hair, the younger sister to grin with delight, and the governess to frown heavily and darkly as she pulled her charges back against herself.
Next to me, Barbossa huffed as Jack began flirting with the women across the way. "Feh! Blasted preening popinjay! There's work as needs be done and he's wastin' time struttin' about fer that piece of skirt."
Turk and I each raised an eyebrow at Barbossa's comment, and then the large bo'sun grinned. "I have a question fer yeh, Barbossa," he began, gaining his irritated captain's attention. "The night we raided the Essex," he began, "erm, the first time, while the lot of us was heavin' boxes an' crates an' the like across to the Rogue, what were yeh doin'?"
Barbossa frowned for a moment, and at the same time it dawned on him, it dawned on me; he'd been busy making conversation and flirting a bit with the three women onboard that night.
"Yeh were strutting around like top peacock in front of some sweet little hens," Turk accused him gleefully.
Barbossa, chagrinned for less than a heartbeat, quickly recovered and retorted. "'Twas not to be helped, Master Turk," he said smoothly, "with the temptation of all that golden hair; I was unable to help bein' smitten by her rare beauty."
While I admit that Barbossa's charming comment managed, despite the fact that I knew it to be contrived for his benefit, to score a few points with me, I also knew, whether he cared to admit it or not, that the night we met, it was not only my fair hair that had caught his attention. He'd been cordial and charming, that was true, but he'd also been busy evaluating the assets of my two female companions as well as mine, and during those first horrid and fearful moments of meeting one of the most feared rogues in the Caribbean, I recall vaguely feeling like an item on a very short menu being scrutinized by a rapacious predator.
"Oh, right," Turk said, clearly not buying into Barbossa's version of the events that night. "Like you wasn't busy lookin' over three fine sets of..."
Turk's blatantly frank statement was interrupted by a cry from the Freewind Trader.
"How dare you!"
The outburst came from the older woman as she dragged her charges back against her more tightly, after Jack had apparently tried to make conversation with the fetching older sister.
"Here, what's your name, love?" he'd asked, gently sweeping her hair away from her face, and provoking the outraged words from her governess.
Jack frowned at the old matron. "Don't get your petticoats in a bunch, grandma," he said flippantly, then returning his attention to the pretty young woman. "So, first time meeting a pirate, eh? You, my dears, have the pleasure and the privilege of making the acquaintance of..."
"You're Jack Sparrow," the younger sister chimed in knowledgably, unthinkingly snuffing out Jack's grand introduction.
Jack turned a dark look on her. "Captain," he admonished her, "it's Captain Jack Sparrow."
"You're the pirate who sank the Endeavor," the young red head continued.
"Yes," Jack said impatiently, "I..."
"And you sacked Nassau port without firing a single shot," she added, before Jack could finish his sentence.
"You are correct, young miss," Jack said, "and not only..."
She interrupted him again. "You raided three Spanish galleons with only one ship," she said admiringly.
"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Jack said with a light laugh, clearly pleased with himself.
Next to me Barbossa and Turk both rolled their eyes.
"See there?" Jack asked, once more turning his attention to the older sister. "You're standing before a notorious scoundrel and gentleman of fortune - the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean Sea at your service, milady." Jack then made the mistake of catching up the nervous girl's hand and pressing it to his lips in a gallant and cocksure gesture as the girl looked scandalized, and her guardian's eyes went wide with horror.
Watching the oldest woman's reaction, I couldn't help but be reminded of my father's sleepy old mastiff bitch who spent her days slumbering harmlessly next to the fireplace, unless she happened catch wind of one of the foxes in the henhouse; she would instantly rouse herself, springing to her feet, growling menacingly, and propelling her considerable bulk along with a speed that was both surprising and dangerous.
Such was the manner in which the matron responded, moving faster than anyone would have suspected, and before Jack even knew what hit him, he had staggered back two or three paces, his hat knocked off and the back of his hand pressed against his lip where the hefty governess' fist had made powerful contact.
"Ha!" Barbossa couldn't contain his amused outburst, and Jack shot him a poisonous look from the other ship before snarling at Pintel and Ragetti.
"Restrain that prisoner!" Jack said, indicating the furious large woman, and each of them took a step toward her.
"'Ere now, grandma," Pintel said with a wicked smirk, "settle down and we won't hurt you none..."
He never got a chance to say anything else as the woman quickly stomped on his foot, causing him to hop around in agony, cursing in a most ungentlemanly way.
Ragetti stepped in to try to grab her, and she connected her beefy, ring-laden fist with his nose, sending him reeling. "Me nose!" he cried, grabbing for it just as his newest wooden eye popped out of place, plunking onto the deck and rolling away. "Me eye!" He scurried after it, blood running down the hand that he had plastered over his nose.
'Grandma' then decked the barely-recovered Pintel, sending him sprawling against the rail, bloodied as well, and would have continued disabling the crew of the Black Pearl, I am sure, were it not for the faint click of the pistol that Jack was suddenly pointing at the head of the fetching older daughter. She instantly put down her meaty fists and very quickly was wringing her hands with concern for the sister Jack had grabbed.
"There's a good lass," Jack said in a soft but dangerous voice, looking pointedly at the governess, while the young woman in his grasp looked as if she might crumple to the deck if he were to let go of her. A quick glance around the deck told him that things were progressing quickly as the crew relieved the Trader of her valuables with practiced efficiency.
"Now," he said, putting the pistol away but not relinquishing his grasp of the ashen-faced girl. "Seeing as how you have clearly been the cause of this," he continued, pointing to the swollen area of his lower lip, "it would only seem fitting that you make amends for the affront."
Wide-eyed and horrified, the girl took Jack's meaning and waxed paler than she already was as Jack pulled her closer, his dark gaze upon her trembling lips. She struggled feebly against him when she realized that he was going to steal a kiss, the very picture of a weak and helpless damsel in distress.
It appeared that Jack was having as much trouble keeping her on her feet as anything, as she appeared faint, and then her younger sister, clearly the one of the pair with the heartier constitution, spoke up as she peered past Jack at the rigging of the Black Pearl.
"Why is there a dress flying from the mast of your ship?" she asked, clearly puzzled.
"That," Jack said, still struggling with the overly dramatic girl in his arms, and thinking to coax some compliance from her, "is all that is left of the last woman who refused to kiss me."
With that statement, the girl in his arms gave one last horrified gasp and swooned completely, slipping through Jack's grasp to hit the deck at his feet heavily.
"Bloody hell," he swore, clearly frustrated with the over-delicate creature at his feet. His attention didn't rest on her long, as at that moment the large governess, her nerves overwrought by trying to defend her charges from pirates and watching the older sister faint, promptly collapsed to the deck, making a considerably larger thud than the young woman.