Chapter 15: 1720 Patrick's Secrets
The night was pitch black and just a little light poured out through the closed windows of the small cottage upon the cliffs high above the bay. Except of the continuous flow of the sea and the woosh of the waves nothing else was to hear up there and the light was warm and inviting and warm and cosy it was also inside the little cottage.
Jack and Caithleen sat back to back on the floor in front of the fireplace. When dampness and a stiff breeze crept up the cliffs and into their bones they decided to heat it up and, meanwhile, it was warm and snug within their little home.
On the one hand besides them stood a handful of half emptied bottles and a plate with fresh made pancakes, on the other hand besides them stood and lay numerous chests, boxes, caskets and cases as well as countless piled-up papers, documents, maps, charts and books alongside a number of Patrick's valuable nautical instruments.
It was for hours that Jack and Caithleen searched all those books, charts and papers Patrick collected or wrote himself, throughout the years, to find a hint leading them to something they were not quite sure about what it actually was they were searching for. In the end, they did not care about the fact that they had no idea what to search for, they were way more fascinated by everything they saw, read, discovered and found out, anyway.
A lot of Patrick's handwritten books were up to two-hundred years old, some even older, and Jack and Caithleen thumped through them carefully and curiously. The same applied when they unfolded all the different maps and charts sketched and painted to every material thinkable. Parchment, linen and expensive mold-made paper were amongst the materials as well as wooden tablets or dried palm-tree and tobacco leaves. All those charts and maps showed coastlines, known and unknown, and they were inscribed with Patrick's unique and unmistakably handwriting. His notes and the charts astonishingly weathered all the years without any hint of physical damage and the two young pirates felt as if they had just found a treasure and, maybe, it was indeed kind of a treasure, maybe even more than that, because all this was not based on unmeasurable riches but on knowledge, memories and remembrances.
After several hours, Caithleen rubbed her eyes and grasped for the carafe with fresh water standing in reach on a small side table. She took a deep draft and poured the rest of the water into her palm to spread it all over her face in order to cool her brow and cheeks, then, she blinked into the cosy twilight and turned round to have a look at Jack: He was still busy thumbing through one of Patrick's books and his cheeks were glowing in excitement.
It turned out that Patrick Swallow had not just been a brilliant pirate and strategist, but that he had also diligently kept diaries about his adventures, experiences and awarenesses. A good amount of these notebooks he kept in an old chest, embedded within soft leather, inscribed with his fine, narrow handwriting. Besides, he had added drawings, sketches and images, had pressed leaves and blossoms between the pages to dry them and had noted down coordinates, times of days and stellar constellations.
At first, all these notes appeared haphazardly and poorly sorted, but while having a closer look at them, every good sailor would be able to find the deeper meaning of every single note.
Caithleen smiled while she kept taps on Jack: He didn't dare to turn his gaze away from all those fascinating and almost miraculous images, dates and writings.
"I never thought you would end up as a scholar, Jack Sparrow", she remarked with a lovingly taunting undertone in her words.
"Oh, nothing like that to be feared concerning me, sweet", he replied: "but this is a treasure. A treasure not to buy with all the gold and riches in this world. Wherefrom did Patrick get all these books and maps? Some of them are too old that he could have bought or stolen them while being new. Some are even older than the first days of piracy within the Caribbean..."
"I'm afraid, I've no answer for you, this time. I don't know where he found all these charts, books and writings, just that it had all already been aboard the 'Stream' when he saved me and my mother. Sometimes, he spent whole nights sitting on deck or on the cliffs, staring into the dark sky, drawing sketches, making calculations and copying it all to his maps and charts. He showed and taught me a bit of it after we found this island and this hideout, but normally he kept silent about most of his knowledge. All I know is that he wanted to get behind all the known riddles and secrets about hidden treasures, mysterious rituals and gruesome curses." She let out a little laugh: "I guess he would have loved to be kind of a discoverer, adventurer or explorer instead of just a humble pirate."
"If I would be able to get behind some unsolved riddles and if I would be able to find one or two treasures on my way, I would also prefer to be an explorer or an adventurer instead of a bloody pirate..."
"Most probably, you would be the one able to find ways to hidden places no one else got to see up till today..."
"Oi, love! Of course! I would become the world's most famous adventurer and I would share all the fame with you. I swear, by the pain of death..."
"No, thank you, Jack! I'm much more interested in you knowing you're alive." Caithleen raised her hand in a warding gesture: "We're not meant for getting honoured like that. We're nothing else but villainously pirates..."
"Privateers!" Jack answered back with a smirk.
"Pardon?"
"It's privateers, love..."
"Pah! Dream on, Jack! We're nothing else but pirates!" She gazed at him insistently: "What do you think how long it would take until young Master Beckett would forget about the fact that his father provided you with letters of marque, if he would come to know what values we did find up here? He would take your knowledge, scuttle your ship and kill you..."
"Ah! I finally get you! So, you really believe I would tell him about a treasure like this, eh?" Jack grasped one of the pancakes rolled it together and went on with his mouth full: "Why should I be supposed to do something stupid like that, love? I share all my plunder with him, so, there's no reason plausible to me why I should share my secrets with him as well. True, right?"
"Is that so?" Caithleen beheld him thoughtfully: "And you're not afraid of what he possibly could do to you in order to get behind your secrets?"
"No, love, I'm not! Why should I care? Tell me, Caith, what else should I long for but what I already own? Let's think about it for a moment, a short moment. I own a ship to sail on, even if I have to admit that it is not my ship, at the moment. I own a pretty little cottage with whitewashed walls. And I own the heart and the love of a young, pretty and clever lass, a stubborn pirate lass, who never fails to remind me that she's not only young and pretty but also very clever and very stubborn. So, again, what else should I long for?"
Caithleen laughed: "Oh please, stop it, Jack! I see, you're the thoroughly happiest person on earth. I will never again doubt this..."
Jack gazed at her acting the pouting while stuffing the rest of his pancake into his mouth and wiping his hand clean on his pants: "I understand pretty well, love, you don't believe me!" He leaned back until he felt the warmth of her back close to his own, then, after a short moment of reflection he remarked unusually stern: "I am happy, Caithleen. It might be that our lives are not worth a shilling, but we're free to live our lives the way we want to..."
They remained sitting there together like that until Jack grasped for another casket and until he opened its cover. His dark eyes widened in surprise while he stared into the small casket totally out of speech. He reached out behind his back and felt for Caithleen's hand: "Have a look at this, love!"
"Something wrong?" Caithleen turned round, had a look, stopped short and frowned: "What's this?"
"I've not the slightest idea, but it looks as if it had a very deep and special meaning to dear Patrick."
The small casket was lined with blood-red velvet and the book lying inside was embedded in soft tanned leather. Golden letters were imprinted to its binding, but it was a language neither Jack nor Caithleen were able to read or to understand. Underneath the fine golden lines, something else got engraved: The sun close to the horizon, but it was not to make out if it showed sunrise or sunset.
Jack and Caithleen exchanged a puzzled look, then, he opened the book carefully.
There was no doubt, it was Patrick's handwriting and what he kept within this unimpressive little casket left the two young pirates speechless, at least for a moment. Page after page included notes about all the knowledge Patrick had been able to find out about the myths of an eternal life. Sketches, drawings, notes and characters leaving hints on several ancient cultures were to find amongst the pages as well as side-notes and countless and countless question marks.
Patrick had collected everything he had been able to find out about curses, hidden graves and forgotten temples. He had noted down all the different variations on this theme and he had documented how much the different temples, sepultures, pyramids and legends of different cultures resembled each other although they were spread all around the whole known world and although they developed on different continents and from different origins.
And each and every people Patrick came across when he made berth on different shores around the seven seas, knew stories about eternal life, immortality and the dangers lying on the paths to get there or to reach them: Curses, demons, challenges, ghosts and surveys.
"It's wonderful!" Caithleen's hand stroked the notebook's binding full of admiration: "I cannot remember when or where he got all this information and when and where he searched for all this. Maybe all this is an explanation for why he locked himself up within his cabin so often. All those drawings, maps, stellar constellations...Patrick must have searched for something and maybe he even found it..."
"I think, I know what it is, love. The dream, most, probably all of us dream or dreamt at least once in our lifetimes", Jack presumed: "The dream of living an eternal life..."
"I don't know", Caithleen shook her head: "If it would have been that way he would have been able to mislead all of us stunningly well, throughout the years. No, that would not have been the Patrick, I got to know. I think, he was thrilled and amazed by the adventure itself, and to find all these clues and hints meant much more to him than actually finding or even reaching immortality. He loved to get behind these mysteries and to unscramble them. I can't imagine Patrick to care about an eternal life. He was too much bound to this simple and earthly life he lived up here..."
"Whatever his reasons and whatever he searched for, one thing is dead certain, Caith, he knew why he kept these notes hidden from the world. He knew what would happen if someone would find his notes..."
"Our world would run crazy! Every man would be greedy and would try to get behind the secret of immortality...At all costs and by all means..."
"Wouldn't you want to it, too?"
"No!" Caithleen shook her head vehemently: "Just the adventure to search for it, like Pat..." She gave him a wink and asked: "What's going on behind your brow, Jack Sparrow? What do you have in mind? Now, while you're keeping such a treasure within your hands?"
"Well, to be honest, sweet, I'll bury it. Up here on the cliffs. Until we're free to use this book without getting in danger that greedy trading companies or privateers will come to know about it."
"You won't want to use it, then?"
"No!" Jack placed the book carefully back to the casket and closed the cover: "No! It's not the right time to use it, love."
He beheld the precious he kept within his hands and added: "You already said it: Beckett would forget about the letters of marque, immediately, he provided us with. Even more so, if he would learn about this book. Only you and me know about it and as long as I breathe no one else but you and me will ever know about it. I'm no fool, Caith, even if the knowledge it keeps seems to be immensely alluring, there's no need for me to search for a mysterious 'Fountain of Youth'. As long as I'm able to hold you within my arms, I do not need a 'Fountain of Youth'..."
Later that night neither Jack nor Caithleen were able to fall asleep. Tightly embraced they lay on their bed, wrapped in a blanket and staring into the slowly ebbing night with open eyes. Jack bedded his head on her tender waist and wrapped his arms closer round her body, but he kept silent, while Caithleen let her fingers slip through his hair and while she caressed his cheeks and lips. After a while she heard Jack ask: "What do you think, sweet, was Patrick right?"
"With what?"
"He once said that, if there would go anything wrong, one day, there would be...well...um...", he bashfully cleared his throat before he finished his sentence: "Well he said that, if there would go anything wrong, one day, we would most probably have some pretty little bastards..."
"Jack!" Caithleen let out a hearty laugh: "I can assure you, if anything like this should happen, one day, we will definitely find out! But, believe me, I'm not unhappy about the fact that, so far, nothing went wrong..."
"You're not?" Jack raised up to his elbow and cocked his head looking at her with a broad grin: "Phew! Seems, I'm a lucky one! I'm not unhappy about this fact, either..."
"Great! But tell me something different, my temerarious and foolhardy pirate – what are we supposed to do next?"
"Well", he rolled round on his back, dragging Caithleen with him: "we will set sail and return to London. There, we will hand the prey over to Beckett and pocket out part of the plunder. Then we will thank him for his grace to let us sail upon our vessel for another year. Having gotten rid of all those duties, we will hand Bill's letter over to Elianor and spend several nights between fluffy cushions and linen sheets within our chamber at Sir Edwin's mansion. You will see, we will be back at sea within a wink of an eye..."
"I understand..."
"You do?" He grinned while he placed one of his legs between hers and breathed a kiss upon her lips. "Are you certain, sweet?"
Caithleen grinned and just responded: "I am, Jack Sparrow..."
Her voice was just a silent whisper close to his ear but it got deep under his skin. He kept her closer again, if this was even possible, and turned her round with a single fluent move that she came to lie upon her back and he upon her tender body: "Let's find out if you're telling me the truth..."
Two days later, the "Eagle's Wing" set full canvas and set course towards the open ocean. Her heading was the City of London and it would be this year's last passage she'd have to endure. As soon as she would reach her berth at London port, all the goods and treasures she carried within her freight holds would be reloaded into the storehouses of the East India Trading Company.
Jack knew Beckett expected them to sail another year for the company and he expected him to join the chart drawers again throughout the Winter.
All he hoped for was that this year's Winter would not last all too long...