Chapter 14: 1720 The Slave Ship

The „Eagle's Wing" left Nassau port the way she sailed into the bay a few days earlier: Without firing off a single shot.

There was only one difference compared to the day she arrived: Her freight room was crammed with way more chests, caskets and sacks than before, all filled to the brim with gold, jewels and pearls.

And every single piece of those preciosities belonged to one of the most dreaded pirates sailing the seven seas: Edward Teach – better known as Blackbeard.

Jack's crew plundered the new hideout of the infamous and barbarous pirate and everyone knew, this would not remain unnoticed.

After they met Prudence Stevens and her "Neptune's Bride", Jack had not been able to get the idea of paying the pirates of Nassau a visit out of his head. All those stories about treasures and riches Blackbeard was supposed to hoard, had been too alluring to forget about them – especially after he came to know that Captain Teach would not be around when they would reach the port. And so, his love for adventure brought him, his crew and the East India Trading Company a tremendous treasure and riches of every kind thinkable. With this prey, they were able to return to London much earlier than they had originally planned and neither he nor Caithleen were unhappy about the prospect of spending some weeks at the mansion of Sir Edwin Cole again, soon – even if they were not able to bring the news back to Elianor, she longed for so much.

Whenever they made port throughout their journey and wherever they anchored for more than one day, Jack and Caithleen tried to find out anything about the whereabouts of Bill Turner, but no one had been able to tell them anything different but what they already knew:

Bill Turner vanished the same day the "Silver Stream" found her grave down at the deep depths of the ocean.

It was not what Jack wanted to hear and even less it was what he believed in, but there was no other story he could tell Elianor when they'd return to England, this year. He felt deeply sorry for the warm-hearted woman, but he had no idea, how he could help her.

"Blackbeard will chase you all across the seven seas and, if necessary, he'll hunt for you ashore, if he learns it had been you who plundered his hideout."

Caithleen leaned against the rail and kept taps on Jack who let his hands slip over the helm, obviously deep in thoughts. She knew the idea of Blackbeard trying to hunt them down did not terrify Jack, but to her it was the only way to get him out of his brooding thoughtfulness.

And it worked.

"We have a very good ship and a truly courageous crew. Let him come, love, I will be prepared for him", was all he responded.

"Jack Sparrow, I know exactly what's causing you sorrow, and I, too, wished we could return to London bringing some better news back to Elianor, but unfortunately, we can't..."

"There is one place where we've not yet searched for him..."

"Our island?"

"Yes, love, our island. The most likely and the most unlikely possibility of them all."

Caithleen smiled. As it seemed, they had one more heading before they would return to England: "Then it's Patrick's Island?"

Jack looked at her in surprise and cocked his head: "Patrick's Island?"

"He found us and took us there. I don't know its real name, so, to me it had always been Patrick's Island."

"Well then, Caith, yes, it is Patrick's Island then."

He grabbed her with her wrist and dragged her closer to answer her inquiring gaze just by snuggling his cheek against hers, wrapping his arms round her tender body and keeping her as tight as possible. Her closeness was all he longed for aside of the endless wideness of the open ocean and even though he knew this might end up as an illusion, it was so worth to surrender to it as long as it would last.

His ship, the sea, the woman he kept within his arms: This was the kind of freedom he had already searched for when he set sail for the very first time and now, when he set course towards the small island they left in a hurry just a few months ago, it did not feel like giving up said freedom but to return to a place having been the only home he knew, the home, Shipwreck Island had never been to him...

Only a day's journey still kept them from the mystical island they just named Patrick's Island, when the man up in the crow's nest spotted sails at the horizon.

Straight on their course and, if they relied on the flag, a Spaniard.

"Mister Jacobsen!"

"Captain?"

"Prepare the ship for a sea fight and ready the guns, but, listen: Keep the hatches close until I'll give you my orders." Jack brought the "Wing" around to bring her on a direct course towards the Spanish: "I don't want to take the risk that they'll find out what our heading is."

"You want to attack them?" Jacobsen stared at him in puzzlement: "Jack, that's a warship not a merchant vessel."

"One more reason to stop them in their tracks! Eh?" Jack's youthful face got enlightened by a grim fire: "One of our ships got sent down to Davy Jones' Locker by them. Into the bargain, in a way too close range to our island! I'm not willing to share Patrick's fate, mate. Not yet! Savvy?"

"It's the 'Santa Isabella'. Be glad, if Vargas won't notice us."

Jack turned round when he heard Caithleen's voice behind him. She looked like petrified when she lowered the spyglass and he renounced asking her wherefrom she knew the ship and its commander.

She told him long ago...

Don Esteban de Vargas murdered her father and he also killed Patrick Swallow. She would recognize the Spanish warship in any place and at any time.

Jack asked Jacobsen to take the helm then he cupped her hands with his: "Love, don't be afraid of him. I'm with you, now, and I swear to you by the pain of death that I will protect you! Always!"

A forced smile appeared upon Caithleen's lips and she answered: "Don't fly in his face, Jack. You've no idea of what he's capable to do..."

"You told me, love, and I had to witness it with my own eyes. Believe me, I will not underestimate him."

"Jack, it's not about you to underestimate him. He will not underestimate you! Ere he'll take that risk, he will kill you..."

"Oi! These are no promising lookouts, aren't they?" He beheld her and gave her a wink: "I'm not afraid of him, sweet!" He turned towards Jacobsen and repeated his order: "Prepare the ship for a sea fight! I expect you to fulfil my orders as given. You'll wait until I'll order you to fire and I'll throw every man over board who dares to act over-hastily. Did I make myself clear?"

Jacobsen only nodded and left the helm to Jack. He vanished under deck and shortly after he could be heard how he drove on the crew: "Full canvas! All hands to the braces! Want you to move you lazy cockroaches!"

"Charming as ever. Obviously he doesn't want to see our men getting harmed." Jack remarked with an amused shrug.

"Jack, will you listen! The 'Santa Isabella' is not only a warship. She's also a slave ship", Caithleen warned him: "I bet, Vargas is on his way to Maracaibo or another rotten port where he can sell his valuable freight to the highest bidder."

"Slaves!" Jack grimaced: "If there is something in this world I really hate it's slave traders. Doesn't matter under which colours they might sail."

"Many pirates sell their captives as well..." Caithleen threw in.

"I'm not 'many pirates', Caith. Patrick was not 'many pirates'. If he would have been one of those rotten miscreants, I'd never have found you."

"Maybe, you'd still have found me. Maybe at some brothel or at a whorehouse. Maybe, you'd have paid me then. A shilling for an hour, a few for a night. I would have been forced to cause you pleasure and, possibly, we both would have enjoyed it, because you're neither rough nor cruel..."

"What's wrong with you, love? You're no whore! You're no harlot! And you're not buyable! As long as I'll breathe and as long as I'll be able to prevent it, no one else will touch you but me – unless the day would come, where you'd not want me any more. No, Caithleen Stevens, you're no whore got me? You're a pirate lass and nothing will ever change this. Not even these letters of marque..."

"So, you're not a privateer today?"

"No, love, not today! What ever it is Vargas hides aboard his ship, Beckett will not get a single penny of it. The 'Santa Isabella' belongs to us and our crew..."

"Hoist our colours, Mister Jacobsen!" Jack's eyes shimmered from determination: "Let them know who we are!"

"But what's with the letters of marque, Jack?" Jacobsen asked.

"Which letters of marque, mate? Today, I don't care about them! Up with the skull and crossbones! My order, my charge! The Spanish commander is known as an infamous pirate hunter! I'm in the know about it, you're in the know about it, the crew's in the know about it! Let him know, we're pirates! I've not in mind to capture this vessel for the company! Savvy?"

"Aye, Captain!" Jacobsen was not as confident as Jack when he ordered to hoist the colours.

The strain aboard the "Wing" was almost physical. The Spanish commander aboard the heavy armed warship had become the fate of so many other pirates before that there was no man aboard, who had not already heard about Don Esteban de Vargas. The Spaniard was not known for granting clemency to his captives. He used to put them to death at will as long as he stayed at sea and aboard his vessel. Doing so, he had only one thing to do after they got their punishment: He ordered the dead bodies to be thrown overboard. Vargas was convinced of no pirate being worth of getting granted a fair law suit ashore and he would not feed his prisoners much longer than necessary, if at all.

These were the stories Jack did hear from Partick Swallow and Rosalind Stevens and not only from those two. Even ashore, when he worked as an employee for the East India Trading Company together with the chart drawers, he heard several stories about the merciless Spaniard. And so it happened that he was hell-bent on sending the "Santa Isabella" and her ruthless commander down to the place where both belonged to: The deep depths of Davy Jones' Locker.

His hands clasped the helm in a firm grip and after an almost endless moment of waiting he finally yelled: "Mister Jacobsen, fire a salvo close to her bow! I don't want to miss getting the attention of this bastard!"

Only a few seconds later the "Eagle's Wing" fired a broadside at the "Santa Isabella" hitting the water surface close to her and her bow.

Nothing happened! Everything remained silent!

Aboard the Spanish warship there moved nothing. No sound was to hear, no man was to spot. Vargas made no effort to open the hatches or to run out the guns. He did not even hoist the negotiator's flag or any other sign which hinted that he was willing to negotiate with the pirates who dared to attack him. As it seemed he wasn't all to impressed by the broadside they sent him.

"I don't like this, Jack!" Caithleen jumped up to the helm: "What is he waiting for?"

"It's better not to worry about it, love. We will get his answer soon enough."

It did not need long and it seemed as if Jack would be right when the "Santa Isabella" seemed to get to life.

Jacobsen rushed up to the helm and joined Jack and Caithleen with a worried face: "They start to drop jetsam! Of what use is this supposed to be?"

"Jetsam?" Caithleen dragged the spyglass out of his hand and had a look through, motionless and quietly, before she said: "That's no jetsam, gents!"

"What?" Jack gazed at her in surprise.

"That's no jetsam! Damn, Jack! You have to bring the 'Wing' around!"

Caithleen passed the spyglass over to him and he had a look through on his own. When his hand sank his face mirrored a mixed expression of horror and disgust: "Ready the ship and turn her about!"

"What?" Jacobsen stared at them in confusion.

"No time for asking questions, mate! Turn around and bring her about!"

"Ave, Captain! I'm already on my way!" Jacobsen hurried to get these new orders on their way.

While Jack tried to sail the "Wing" as close as possible towards those poor souls fighting for their lives between both ships, he and Caithleen had to witness helplessly how Vargas ordered his men to throw their living freight overboard without mercy. Then, the hatches of the "Santa Isabella" opened and her crew ran out the guns. This was the moment when Jack got aware that he was about to lose this fight.

If he'd take the risk and if he'd bring his "Wing" closer to the "Isabella", his fate, the fate of his crew and the fate of his ship would have to get bemoaned.

If he'd decide, not to take the risk, he'd have to watch all those helpless figures in the water drown miserably in front of his eyes.

If he'd dare to send another broadside over to the the Spanish, he'd take the risk of not only hitting the warship but Vargas' innocent victims, too.

And if he'd hold fire Vargas would not. And the Spanish would not care about whom their cannons would hit...

Jack's face turned pale and his hands clasped the wheel that firm and that long until he was barely able to feel them any more.

His voice was silent when he turned round to face Caithleen: "You were right, Caith, and I'm a fool. I did not believe in what cruelties this man is able to do." Tiredly he buried his face within his hands. He closed his eyes for a while and added: "This was a fight we never had a chance to win..."

It felt as if time stood still when they sailed through the narrow passage and into the hidden bay which had once been a secure shelter for the "Eagle's Wing" and the "Silver Stream". Now, it was only the "Wing" letting go her anchor at her former berth.

After they had ensured themselves that Don Esteban de Vargas and his "Santa Isabella" would not follow them, Jack and Caithleen decided to take all the survivors of the massacre the Spanish committed on his captives to the small trading port at the backside of the little island. It had been Jack's decision to leave the innocent people with enough gold and money that they would be able to get a passage on a ship back to every place and port all around the seven seas they would prefer or wish. Afterwards, he set course towards the passage which brought them straight to that place, no one would be able to follow them to, who wasn't in the know about how to do so.

Jack left it to Jacobsen to organize the watch and the shore leave. He himself vanished all silently and apparently in a dark mood in the direction of the steeps where the small path was hidden leading up to the cliffs...

Up to the cliffs and up to the small cottage which now belonged to him and Caithleen.

Caithleen followed him suit.

There was no attack to be feared and Jacobsen was experienced enough to inspect their vessel without her help.

She found Jack standing at the edge of the cliffs his gaze lost at the horizon and at the open ocean. The wind played with his long dark curls and his profile stood out against the slowly sinking sun. 'He's young and he's pretty', Caithleen thought, and within this moment his gaze was so stern and he himself was so deep in thoughts that he barely took notice of her when she joined him. First, when she stood close by his side he reached out for her and grasped her hand. They did not need words, they knew each other's thoughts.

They stood motionless for a rather long while until Caithleen buried her head within his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, Jack." She whispered close to his ear: "What ever you might have tried, you would not have been able to catch him, this time."

"Yes, love, I know. That's what makes me..." He interrupted himself and turned round to her with a helpless gesture of his hand: "I understand, now, what it was you tried to explain to me, but, I don't know...We failed, even though it was right what we wanted to do...why had it to be like this, love..."

Caithleen smiled at him: "I've no idea, Jack. There is no answer to this, I fear." Her fingers cupped his cheek: "At least, there's is no answer I can give to you..."

"I'm glad you escaped this bastard." He forced himself to smile while he wrapped his arms round her warm and tender body for just to hold her close.

Somewhen later, the evening cold crept up the cliffs and straight into their bones.

Jack felt Caithleen shiver in his arms. He freed himself from out of their embrace and dragged her with him: "Let's have a look what's left of Patrick's riches and of our old life..."

Only a few steps separated them from the little cottage high above the sea and they exchanged a surprised look when the door swung open without squeaking and cracking. Their confusion grew as soon as they opened the shutters and when the last light of the dying day granted them a better view at their former little home.

No tremendous layer of dust waited for them, covering all of their belongings, the floor and every piece of furniture all around the place, but...

The rooms rather looked as if they had never been away. Nowhere within the whole house they were able to spot dust, spider webs or dirt. Instead, they found dry wood within a basket by the fireplace, candles in their holders on the shelves and a number of rum- and wine bottles within the narrow niche where Patrick used to keep them. The chest with Patrick's nautical instruments still kept his secrets and even his books still stood untouched on the shelves where they belonged to.

"What's going on here?" Caithleen had a look around and shook her head in confusion: "How is this possible? Nothing got stolen and the whole room looks as if we never left it or as if someone had been here barely an hour ago. It cannot be possible."

"It can, love. Have a look at this. I think, I found the explanation!"

In his hand Jack held a closed and sealed letter.

It was meant for Elianor Turner...

Shutters and curtains were closed again, a cosy fire was sizzling within the fireplace and about a dozen candles enlightened the room when Jack dragged Caithleen with him over to the narrow divan with its cushions. He let his gaze melt into hers and said with a smile: "Do you remember, sweet? On this uncomfortable piece of furniture I kissed you for the first time, and I remember it as if it happened yesterday."

Instead of giving him a reply, her fingers slipped gently over his lips. His dark eyes followed every move she made until his gaze found hers again. Her grey eyes rested on his face and she needed no words to tell him she loved him. He knew it, he could see it and he could feel it – with every single of her tender touches or gestures. It was what made their rough life bearable and it was what reminded him that the cruelties they had to witness and to suffer had not been able to bereave them of their feelings.

With a smile he grabbed her with the collar of her shirt and dragged her down on him. He pressed a kiss upon her lips, relished her sweet taste upon his tongue and felt his growing desire to feel her. Sitting on his lap, Caithleen wrapped her arms round his neck and pushed closer towards him. She longed for his hands caressing her skin and for his lips following them down their path.

She shivered under his seductive touch and this time, he knew, it was not due to the chill. It didn't not need long until she bent over him and while she buried her fingers within his thick dark strands of hair, while she loosened his bandana and while she sealed his lips with a deep kiss he first stripped off her shirt and then her pants.

Her tanned skin shimmered within the candlelight and he wanted to relish and to savour it to take her at this place which kept so many wonderful memories and he loved to watch how the love she felt for him mingled with her desire and her lust when he entered her inch by inch...