Chapter 12: 1719 Rumour and Truth
„Sparrow! What's wrong with you? Sitting there within your narrow little niche, all alone in the dark, avoiding any kind of company? Come, join us! Tell us about your adventure with the Spanish. Is it true?"
The tavern was a den of thieves, crowded to the brim with lots of sinister figures, sailors, pirates and privateers. All around the place, amidst laughter, yelling, music, singing and the idle talk of drunken souls, several groups of men spent their latest prize or pay on food and drink, on playing cards or dice or on the many wenches waiting for a generous suitor.
Sitting within one of the rare and barely enlightened niches where it was possible to talk to each other without shouting and yelling, Jack Sparrow finally raised his gaze from his beer mug when the question got carried over to him over the alarums and excursions of the taproom. None of the men belonged to his crew and he knew only a few of them by their names, whereat 'a few' in this case had the meaning of 'none'. He did never before come across one of the men populating the tavern and, if he was honest with himself, he wouldn't have missed a thing, if he would have gotten spared from coming across them, at all. They were all privateers sailing for the King of England and he had to find out that it got obvious that 'not knowing them' did not have the same meaning as 'not knowing him'. It didn't matter that he didn't know anyone of them, because more than enough of them seemed to believe in knowing him and much better than he would have loved them to.
However, since his encounter with the Spanish and his escapade with plundering the ship without firing off a single shot, the story seemed to have spread all around the seven seas as fast as the wind until it finally reached the taverns and the brothels of Port Royal.
Port Royal!
In the times of the infamous Captain Henry Morgan, the town had been the most feared and best known pirate hideout within the Caribbean. No one ever dared to attack the pirates in town and no one ever dared to make a try to take it by storm - not even the English, although they owned the most forceful fleet sailing in these waters. First, when they came to a much better conclusion than fighting against the man, they found a way to conquer the notorious pirate nest:
They made their most feared enemy their most powerful ally!
The English bought the dreaded pirate: With letters of marque and by naming him 'Governor of Port Royal'. From that time on, Sir Henry Morgan started to hunt for his former comrades and to sell them out whenever they denied to serve the king as well. He named himself privateer and as it seemed, he enjoyed his new position and also the power and the wealth it granted him.
At least as long as he did not come to rest...
Then, within the middle of the night, when he desperately tried to sleep, he got caught by his memories and plagued by remorse, and so it happened that one day the infamous Captain Henry Morgan, one of the founders of the Code of Morgan and Bartholomew, had been found within his chamber – swigged to death.
Since these days, Port Royal was known as an English garrison and the governors always had a watchful eye on every ship entering the bay – no matter if it was a merchant vessel, a privateer or a warship.
When the "Eagle's Wing" made berth, she got marvelled at out of countless pairs of eyes and her young captain had been brought to the governor's palace immediately – just to describe the exact course of events considering his bold adventure within his own words, of which even the governor himself had already heard a dozen different versions about. As soon as Jack returned aboard, he had allowed his men to go ashore, provided that always a handful of them would stay aboard to keep the watch. He wasn't willing to take the risk that some disagreeable visitors would make a try to free him from all those treasures piled up within the freight room of his ship.
On this evening, his crew got spread all around town, at every tavern round the place and at every brothel within reach. While the men enjoyed their shore leave, Jack and Caith had actually just one single wish: To spend some calm nights within a clean and halfway affordable chamber to get rid of all the marks the crossover had left upon them and to stay alone together for a while without getting disturbed by one of their men every couple of hours. That this chamber of all things had to lie within especially that tavern where most of the privateers used to spend their nights, they first came to know when it was too late.
Jack took another draft of beer, then, letting out a sigh, he had a look at the group of sailors who were still waiting for his answer and, finally, he gave them his reply: "Well then, gents, as it seems you're already in the know about the fact that I had an encounter with the Spanish, aye? So, if it is this way, mates, you should for sure be also in the know about the fact how I had said adventure with the Spanish, eh? In addition, I would feel much better, if you could avoid such familiarities like you used to use them. Savvy?"
The other stopped short: "What does this mean?"
"Exactly what you understood. I do not know you and you do not know me, and because it is that way, it's Captain Sparrow for you."
"Whow! One moment, if you please, young man! Within here, you're amongst your kind and we do not cultivate such fine differences, if you get me. So what's up? Will you tell us your story or are all those rumours we came to hear about you and your adventure nothing but just rumours invented and spread by yourself?"
Caithleen gave Jack a warning look: "I don't trust him. Let him think about you whatever he wants. In a few days we're back at sea. Who cares about what he thinks, then?"
"A few days could do to kill us, right? I don't care about him, love, but I would like to know what he really wants from us. I don't believe that it is all about plundering a Spanish galleon, right..."
With it he emptied his beaker, gave Caithleen an encouraging wink and sashayed over to the table, whereupon the stranger and his companions were drinking and playing. He leaned back against one of the wooden buttresses vis a vis their table and kept taps on their game of dice. It was the game of deception, a game about lies and deceit. Who had no money left to lose set in what else ever he had left – his freedom included. Jack grinned when the privateer with that quick tongue lost his stake to another: "Don't you think as well, mate, that it is of more sense to deal either with those ubiquitous rumours without getting distracted by playing cards or playing cards without getting distracted by all those ubiquitous rumours?"
"What do you know about this, Sparrow?"
"Enough!" Jack beheld his fingertips in a rather naive way: "Well, let's say, enough to get that a man who's a gambler is much easier to betray than a man who uses to be on the qui vive, aye? And it is much, much easier to betray a man who's not only a gambler but who's a greedy gambler..."
"To be honest, lad, I would really and truthfully be interested in one thing."
"What would that supposed to be?"
"Well, I would love to know where you use to pick up your wisdom."
"That's easy! That would exactly be, where you use to pick up your rumours."
The stranger burst out laughing and got up: "Very well then, lad, let's talk. I would suggest we retire to your cosy little niche, over there."
Jack nodded and together they returned to his quiet niche which got halfway shielded from curious eyes and cocked ears. When his still nameless companion spotted Caithleen, he harshly snarled at her: "Make your exit, little slut! Here's nothing to earn for your kind of lass!"
"Huh?" Caithleen looked at him in a mix of puzzlement and surprise: "What kind of loggerhead are you supposed to be? Unable to differentiate a whore from a pirate lass?" She withstood his gloomy glare and added: "It's the same like talking about rumour and truth: It's always better to be able to differentiate these two as well."
"Does this wench belong to you, Sparrow?"
"You will get the answer as soon as I got your name, mate." Jack replied.
"Henry Batiste, a privateer like you."
"You're a French?" Caithleen asked.
"Yep, that's what I am."
"And how is this, that a French like you sails with letters of marque signed by the King of England?"
"Let's say, it all depends on the payment doesn't it...?"
"Or on the right payer." Caithleen dared to throw in: "Tell me, in whose name are you spying?"
"Yes, mate, that's an interesting question and I'd love to know the answer."
Jack's gaze met Batiste's and an exiguous and barely noticeable tremor within his cheek told him that Caith was right and that his feelings did not betray him, before. For sure, he was still young, but he was no fool and the same went for Caithleen. Wariness was indicated as long as they had to deal with Henry Batiste, there was no doubt about it.
"My payer is not your concern, lad. None of us sails for the King because of honour and a quiet conscience, am I right? Or do you want to tell me you agreed to plunder ships for the East India Trading Company for just a clammy handshake? I know their payment to be bounteous, so, don't dare telling me anything different."
"That's true, but..."
"Be honest, Sparrow, what is it a privateer is? We're still nothing else but pirates. The only difference is, we do not plunder ships any longer sailing under the colours of our payer or of the king who signed our letters of marque."
"Aye! I agree! Nevertheless, there are differences. For example, me and you, mate. The only thing we have in common is that both of us are not really fond of the Spanish, aye? So, in other respects, I still believe there is nothing all around the seven seas able to make us allies."
Batiste started laughing, loud and audacious, then he grabbed the bar maid with her arm and yelled: "C'mon, sweet, bring us three fresh mugs of beer and let me know if you're free, tonight. I'd love to take you with me to my chamber. There, I will show you everything a man like me can show a lass like you."
Caithleen rolled her eyes: "Oh boy! Another one taking himself for a gift to all women..."
"No one demands of you to share my chamber, lovey, but I always pay fair and my qualities as captain of my ship only get outmatched by my qualities between the legs of a beautiful lady."
"Lucky me! I'm not a lady", Caithleen hissed, nauseated by the way he stared at her.
"No one here is interested in your qualities between the sheets, Batiste, use them elsewhere", Jack mingled in: "If I remember it right, you just wanted to explain, why you're convinced that we're much more alike than I would like to guess..."
"Calm down, lad, we're not in a hurry, aren't we?" The bar maid returned and when she placed the three mugs on the table, Batiste had nothing better to do but to stare at her corsage, again, then, after she left, he bent over the table and went on: "You're young, Sparrow and I ask myself what you know about all those legends and rumours being told about treasures and secrets."
Jack shrugged: "For sure, you mean all those stories and legends about mermaids, about hidden, cursed and buried treasure and about all the strange myths auguring everlasting youth and immortality, eh? What do you think? That I've nothing better to do but to waste my time on searching for all those wondrous things? Oh, of course, you're right, mate. I've nothing better to do, at all, but to think about how I could explore all those myths, how I could solve all those riddles and how I could get it done it before anybody else could!"
"It's not the right place to taunt about it! Too many good sailors already lost their lives while searching for said secrets. Much more than the English, the French and the Spanish together had been able to hang up till now."
"Don't you think this is one good reason for not to search for said myths? I for my part would prefer to stay alive."
Batiste stared at him in disbelief and Jack exchanged a look with Caithleen. They knew both what was really hidden behind this curiosity. Batiste was greedy and hell-bent on finding out what other pirates and privateers knew about those old legends and Jack had no doubt that he would not hesitate to eliminate all those whose knowledge he'd finally elicit. In addition, the man was a vain coxcomb who loved to swagger about everything he came to know. That was why Jack decided to play the game, Batiste wanted him to play: "Well, mate, if I think it all over, I come to the conclusion that you're totally convinced about everything you told us. So, maybe your story might be worth thinking about. What say you?"
Suddenly, a broad grin spread over Batiste's face: "I knew it! I knew that you'd be the right one to talk to, Sparrow! Listen carefully to all I want to tell you..."
Dawn had already broken when Henry Batiste was finally that drunk that he sank under the table wearing a blessed smile upon his lips and not noticing that the whole content of his latest mug of beer poured out over him.
Caithleen let out a sigh: "We should have shot him. No one in here would have cared and it would have spared us from a night without sleep."
"Maybe you're right, love, but we found out a lot of what he, for sure, did not want to tell us, and because he loved to listen to his own words, we had nothing else do to but to listen to him, too. So, he did not find out if we're in the know about any of the legends he mentioned or not."
"So, you believe in his stories?" Caithleen grimaced. She made no secret about what she thought about Batiste.
"Not everything, love, but there must some truth be hidden in it, if he's that hell-bent on finding out whatever possible. But" Jack got up: "I'm still convinced he's not sailing on his own. He has not only a payer. There must be someone else behind him. Someone, he shares his payment and his preys with. Not to forget his knowledge." He reached his hand out for Caithleen and added: "However, there are other things I would love to do and to talk about but sitting at this table. You agree?"
"I agree, but what would that be?"
"Oh no, my sweet Caith, don't act the innocent. You know, I thought of a pillowy bed and of not getting up again before tonight."
While they went upstairs to their chamber, Caithleen asked: "Cursed Aztec gold, eternal life – who the hell believes in things like that?"
"Well, what can I say, love? This fellow snoring under the table, down there, right now, is not so wrong as his words may sound to your pretty little ears. Before my father took my ship away from me, I went out for several forays, together with my friends, and I can assure you, Caith, we came across more than one extraordinariness."
"So, you're literally telling me that, if you're the one telling it to me, I've no other choice but to believe in it, eh?" Caithleen grinned and jumped up the last steps.
Right in front of their chamber, Jack closed in on her. He wrapped an arm round her waist and dragged her closer. Within the dim light of the corridor, he beheld her and said all filled with stern: "If there is a well out there granting us everlasting life, I will find it and we will drink from it together, love. Then, we can sail the seven seas forever and no one will ever take you away from me, Caithleen Stevens..."
"I love this idea", she whispered.
"True?" Jack smirked and pushed her into their chamber. He did not care about the early hour and slammed the door shut behind him, then he dropped down on the bed dragging Caithleen with him: "No more thoughts about immortality, for now. All that stuff can wait. What I really want is to sleep for at least one hour."
"Sleep?" An amused undertone was in Caithleen's voice when she slipped out of her clothes and when she crawled under the blanket by his side.
"Of course sleep! Whereof did you think, love?" When she did not give him a reply he went on: "You think, I'm joking, true? I assure you, not this time." Caithleen kept silent: "Caith? Are you listening?" Jack turned round to look at her and a smile enlightened his eyes: Caithleen had fallen asleep – her eyes closed, her lips slightly opened, her head rested on one of her arms...
When Jack and Caithleen went down to the taproom in the evening of the same day, a good humoured Henry Batiste already waited for them. Obviously, he had overcome his inebriation without suffering from an all too massive hangover and he kept taps on every move the young pirate couple made. He followed them when they went to leave the tavern.
Jack turned round and gazed at him angrily: "What?"
"Where are you going, Sparrow? Want to try another den of thieves or the brothel round the corner? I'll accompany you!"
"Who told you to be invited, Batiste?"
"Oho! Not that fast, lad! After all, I revealed a lot of my knowledge about all those treasures and secrets to you, last night."
"You did, and as far as I know, I kept my knowledge to me, aye?"
"That's exactly what you did! So, what do you think? Wouldn't it be fair to share your knowledge with me, tonight?" Something lurking and malicious was within his gaze, within his words and within his whole behaviour.
"I'm sorry, mate. We'll sail tomorrow morning and I've to get my men out of the taverns and brothels round the place, because I don't want them to sleep in the rigging like you slept under the table." Jack greeted the man: "Captain Batiste!"
Jack and Caithleen wanted to leave when they heard a familiar sound behind them: Batiste had drawn his sword.
"One moment, Sparrow! That was not what I had in mind when I shared my secrets with you, last night. You won't leave Port Royal without sharing yours with me!"
Jack hesitated for a moment, then he turned towards Caithleen: "I want you to go aboard, love. Leave this to me..."
"But Jack..."
"Please, Caith, do it! There is no time for discussions. The 'Wing' needs a captain, if this should go wrong!"
He had no chance to give her some more orders. Batiste's blade missed him about a hair's breadth and ere he could react, he found himself amidst a duel with an unforgiving French. Batiste turned out to be a witty and sly opponent and as it was almost impossible to foresee his next strike, Jack avoided them by jumping over them or cowering under them as good as he was able to. Mostly it was pure luck that the French missed him until he got himself entangled in a root and stumbled to the ground, hitting it hard.
"Young fool!" Batiste taunted: "You will tell no one what you heard from me."
He took his pistol from his belt and aimed at Jack when all of a sudden he let it go of it with a loud and painful scream and a wild curse upon his lips: A small knife stuck within his hand and lamed his fingers. Filled with hatred, he glared at Caithleen: "You will come to regret this, little wench! We will meet again, soon! Mark my words! Both of you!"
"Can't wait for sending you to hell, you bastard! And now make your exit before I'll shoot you!" Caithleen watched how Batsiste slowly sneaked away then she reached her hand out to help Jack up and said with a broad grin: "The 'Wing' has a captain!"
Before Jack could give her a reply they heard Batiste scream after them: "May you think all those stories I told you are nothing else but fairy tales, Sparrow, but this is neither a legend nor a rumour! This is the truth! Rosalind Stevens hunts for you and, believe me, she's in a very bad temper. She will send you to hell the day she comes across you! Watch out for her, boy, she will scuttle you without asking if you're prepared for it..."