Chapter 17: 1723 Attacked out of the Dark

"Prove me wrong, lad, but you look as if thinking about leaving Genoa is as repugnant to you as ending up as fish food down at Davy Jones' Locker. At least, that's what your expression tells me..."

Jacobsen went up to the quarterdeck and got caught by surprise when he found Jack up there astern leaning against the rail. The young captain was deep in thoughts while he stared at the Italian port slowly vanishing at the horizon. Almost as if he, who was always in a hurry to set sail as quickly as possible whenever they made berth, seemed to trouble over something.

They had reached the port of Genoa a couple of days ago, actually to stow fresh water and supplies and to rest for one or two days, before they would start heading towards the end of their long journey at London port. The lively City of Genoa with its trading houses, taverns and its long history as the home of some legendary seafarers was supposed to be their last station, before they would finally return to England, and to Jack it seemed to be the most pleasurable place to spend some extra time with Caithleen without getting disturbed by the crew every couple of minutes.

The "Eagle's Wing", her crew and her Captain had been at sea for more than one year and much longer than their schedule actually had allotted. They did sail along the African shores, always with intent to avoid the omnipresent pirates of Madagascar whose brotherhood and Coast Captains made up their headquarters within a bay somewhere round the island at the end of the bygone century, and they did sail from port to port all around the whole Mediterranean Sea to stow the most valuable trading goods.

So, every man aboard was in high spirits when they finally reached Genoa and decided to stay a little longer than planned.

An Italian port was more than welcome to stay at, because the Italians weren't eager on hunting for an English privateer sailing the Mediterranean Sea, unlike the French or the Spanish, the less if said privateer sailed under the flag of a well known trading company.

Now, with Genoa lying behind them and with every sea mile the "Wing" put between herself and the port, Jack got more and more thoughtful and fell more and more silent.

After a while, he turned round and looked at Jacobsen: "I'm not quite sure what it is, mate, but I do not feel all to comfortable thinking about the fact that we will still need some days of sailing until we'll get finally past France and Spain. I wished we would already have passed the Strait of Gibraltar."

"Huh? Did I get you right, lad? Since when do you take a gloomy view of your fortune?"

"Since I've the awkward feeling of someone or something following us."

"Who should follow us? And since when?"

"This, Mister Jacobsen, is exactly what concerns me. I can neither tell you who it is nor can I tell you since when this 'who' is following us." Jack had a look over his shoulder to have a last glance at the silhouette of the port of Genoa, then he added: "Who ever it is, they won't dare to attack us as long as it's bright daylight, so, I want you to double the watch throughout the nights to come."

"Tell, me Jack, could you possibly see ghosts?" Jacobsen sounded thoroughly stern.

"I will owe you the answer to this until we've passed Gibraltar..."

"Aye, Captain!" Jacobsen shrugged at this answer and was already on his way to pass Jack's orders on to the crew, when something else came to his mind: "By the way, Jack, the men wanted me to ask you if they are allowed to celebrate a bit, tonight. You know, the end of this long journey, the fully stored freight rooms of our beloved lady, here, and the proper payment waiting for them as soon as we're back in London..."

Jack hesitated for a moment, not quite sure what to do, but in the end, he nodded and replied: "Tell them they're allowed to celebrate, Caith and I will join them, too, but the men shall keep their heads clear. They can get themselves plastered as soon as the 'Wing' is moored to an English pier. Then, they have a real reason to do so. And now, Mister Jacobsen, take care that we will use this fresh breeze which will hopefully grant us a quick sail towards the end of this journey..."

"I'm on my way, Sir..."

Caithleen raised up to her elbow and gently touched Jack's shoulder when he tossed and turned in his sleep after he had fallen into a fitful doze: "What's wrong with you? You did not have that much rum to sleep that twitchy. Don't you want to tell me what's troubling you?"

"Maybe, I did not have enough rum." Jack rolled round and stared at the ceiling with wide open eyes when he came to lie on his back. He asked: "Tell me, Caith, have you ever had the feeling of someone following you or of someone keeping taps on you, but whenever you'd turn around there is no one and nothing to spot and you'll go on with nothing but this feeling. Just the feeling, nothing concrete..."

"So, you have said feeling?"

"Aye, love! I have it since we left the port of Alexandria. As if there's someone close on our heels or at least as if there's someone waiting for us already when we make port the next time."

"Any idea who?"

"Not the slightest, love." Jack thought about it and suddenly he smirked: "Well, there are a lot of captains sailing the seven seas we disburdened of their freight since we're privateers of His Majesty, the King of England and the honourable East India Trading Company. Quite thinkable that some of them might be hell-bent on sending us down to the depths by all means before we will reach England and the English shores."

"Not only thinkable..." Caithleen breathed a kiss upon his temple and continued: "The more so, because you did not only plunder trading ships but other pirates, too..."

"Thanks for reminding me, love." Jack pouted: "You won't want to make me believe that one of them followed us all the way from the Caribbean over to the Mediterranean Sea, won't you?"

"I would never dare to do so, but what's with all Lord Reginald entrusted you with? He suspects one or more of his captains to betray him? It's possible that some of them would do everything to get rid of you."

"Caith, love, I'm aware of it. Very well aware! And I would not dare to foreclose it, but", he rolled round to be able to look at her within the little light of a single lantern: "you should not worry about it. It will do if I'll rack my brain, aye? If I'm right, we will find out soon enough. Maybe, Jacobsen is right and it's nothing but a ghost." Caithleen laughed and Jack asked: "So, what? You also believe, I'm haunted by ghosts? Eh?"

"Who knows, who knows", she whispered close to his lips: "but I couldn't care less as long as you're close to me, Captain Sparrow..."

"Oi! So, you're not concerned about me being forced to tear your clothes off of you if you will go on with your tries of seducing me...?"

"There's no need for trying, Jack, I already succeeded." Her hand slipped under the blanket and she added when she noticed him to shiver under her touch and when she heard him inhaling his next gasp sharply: "I can hear it and, even better, I can feel it..."

The same moment he grasped her, placed her on his lap and pulled her into a kiss, impatiently tried to free her from her light nightgown. He knew, he was rough when he entered her, but her lustful sigh told him she did not care. Jack closed his eyes, carried away by a wave of pleasure when she started moving on his lap: She knew the rhythm of his quickening heartbeat, every single of his sighs and moans were the answer to it, and so he gently cupped her breasts to cause her pleasure, too, started to caress their sensitive tips and smiled a contented smile when she got out of rhythm. Caithleen was covered in sweat, her eyes were dark from passion and she let out another sigh when the game of love and desire changed and when she finally surrendered to him:

She wanted him and she made no secret out of it...

It was long after midnight, during the quiet hours right before sunrise, when the first balls hit the water surface next to the „Eagle's Wing" and it took the men aboard some time to realize what was going on and to come to life. Except of the two men who kept watch, the steersman at the helm and the man up within the crow's nest, no one was awake at this early hour.

As he had promised, Jack and his crew had a little celebration, that night, and even if it had not been as frisky as it would become after their return to London, it was nevertheless frisky enough to sleep well and to dream sweet, afterwards.

The "Wing" was still on her course back from the Mediterranean Sea, heading towards the Atlantic and towards London Port, and her cargo hold, filled to the brim with valuable fabrics, flavoursome oils, precious carpets, barrels filled with wine, spice and olives and crates with tea and lemons, was supposed to be a proper prey for any pirate or privateer sailing in these waters. It was a cargo that would bring in a very good amount of money for the East India Trading Company and a nice prize for the captain and his crew.

There was only one challenge still waiting for them: The "Wing" had to make a try to avoid getting ambushed by the French while sailing past the isle of Corsica and to not get captured by the Spanish while passing Gibraltar, so, these were the reasons why they did not celebrate their profitable bargains the way they would have loved to. And it seemed as if the aggressor did wait for exact this moment and as if he was in the know about the fact that the "Wing" would try to cross these dangerous waters tonight.

"Ship on larboard! They prepare to attack!" The man up in the crow's nest reacted as quick as he was able to and, strained as hell, he tried to recognize who it was, preparing for a sea fight, but to no avail. Therefore, he yelled: "Wake up the Captain!"

The guard reacted in a wink and rang the bell...

Within the captain's cabin it was all silent. The single lantern still spent a little light, and the only sounds to be heard in here were Jack's and Caithleen's soft breaths. Tightly embraced they lay within their berth and both were fast asleep.

It took a while until the loud and recurring knocking found its way to Jack's awareness, straight through his sweet dreams of a bygone night full love of pleasure. Only reluctantly, he finally opened his eyes and grimaced when he realized that this annoying sound was no illusion. He was still dozy and his dark eyes were still dreamy, when he decided that he had no other choice but to get up. Tried to not wake up Caithleen as well, he just wanted to slip out from underneath the blankets, when the door got torn open and Jacobsen rushed in - a troubled mien upon his face, followed by the noise the steps and the yelling of the men caused on deck while preparing for the fight.

Jack frowned and gazed at the man half in surprise and half in astonishment: "Mister Jacobsen, I guess there is a very good reason able to explain your not really suitable demeanour, aye?"

"Aye, Captain! There is, indeed! We're under attack and there is no hint at who our enemy is, but, Sir, there is no doubt on the fact that this attack is meant dead serious. They want to scuttle us!"

Like to confirm his words a ball smashed into the ship somewhere next to the galley. "Never thought our cook to be that bad!" Jack was wide awake, now. He turned towards the slender figure still sleeping by his side: "Caithleen, love! Wake up! We got company!"

Caithleen's black tuft rose from out of the cushions and her shining grey eyes blinked within the diffuse light of the flickering lantern: "I will never understand why an attack always takes place in the middle of the night!"

"No time to philosophize, love! Hurry!"

Jack got dressed within just a few moments time, forced his feet into his boots and reached for his weapons, but when he prepared to leave the cabin, he got aware of his friend and first mate who watched out of wide open eyes and with his mouth dropped open as Caithleen slipped into her clothes as well. Her naked skin shimmered within the little light and the play of shadow and light made her female attractions appear to be way more than just inspiring.

Jack cleared his throat: "Mister Jacobsen! I think it's not your turn to rate either the virtues of my girl or any other of her female attractions. Savvy? So, hurry up, mate! Move, or you'll swab the deck for the rest of our journey until we'll make berth, next time! Got me!" He paused, had a short think over and added: "Well, if we'll make berth ever again at all, as it were..."

"Aye, Captain! I got you! Oh, and sorry, Miss Caith, for my misbehaviour! It was not with intent and..." Jacobsen went on stammering his poor excuse until Jack's frowning mien reminded him of his threat: "Swabbing the deck... I know, Captain...I know..."

On the deck of the "Eagle's Wing" chaos broke loose while their aggressor fired without cease and, meanwhile, not only the galley sustained heavy damage but a part of the rail got torn away as well. The sails were torn to shreds and more than one ball got smashed into the crew's quarters and the freight room.

As desperately as he tried, Jack did not succeed with steering the "Wing" out of the fire line and the unknown ship came alongside. Grapnels got thrown over and inch by inch both ships drifted closer together.

"Who are they?" Caithleen stumbled up to the helm. She made no effort to hide her worries.

"I've no idea. All I know is that we will end down at Davy Jones' Locker soon, if we won't come up with a plan. We, the men, the ship and everything else aboard."

"We could try to get rid of them by blowing them away. You know how, Jack. The way Patrick used to get rid of his enemies. One broadside, maybe two should do. We have favourable winds and if we'll set full canvas, well, the canvas we've left, we should manage to escape..."

"A broadside say you?" Jack nodded: "I agree, it's a great idea, but you know as well as I do that we could get ripped apart as well, do you?"

"Do we have a choice"

Jack didn't have a chance to give a her a reply. He grabbed her and threw her to the ground together with him when another ball smashed the mast close above their heads. All around them, splints got spread and the mast began to swing alarmingly but did not fall. Scrapers and scratches on their faces, Jack and Caithleen stumbled back to their feet.

"Seems everything is said about full canvas, eh?" Jack grabbed Caithleen with her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes: "I can't help, love, but the idea of the broadside sounds much more alluring, now. If you're still convinced about it, I won't stand in your way. Hurry, love! And Caith, no needless risk, aye?"

"What do you think! I don't want to die here!" Caithleen hurried down the stairs and vanished below while Jack tried to keep the "Wing" steady.

Shortly after the first broadside hit the adverse ship, but it was too late!

Even though the broadside pushed both ships apart, the opposing crew started to board and ere he came to know what was going on, Jack found himself amidst a fight for survival. While he slipped under and through the strikes of sword and cutlass of his enemy and while he escaped both blades only within a hair's breadth, Jack had no time look out for the figure who jumped aboard, now.

The captain of the unknown ship had a determined look around until he got aware of Jack being engaged in a fight up at the helm. A contented grin appeared on his lips and brightened up the face of Henry Batiste when he finally found what he did search for for so long. Today, he would end this chapter of his life the way he had planned it years ago.

Mercilessly, he pushed past the men aboard the "Wing" who fought for both, their lives and their ship.

The blast of a second broadside tore some of the boarding lines apart and another part of the rail got torn away.

Coughing and smeared with smut, Caithleen stumbled back to the deck. She grasped for a hatchet and cut the remaining lines through when she got aware of the furious man, obviously the captain of their enemies, straight on his way up to the helm. As quick as she was able to she hurried after him, stumbling across smouldering debris and over dead and wounded bodies: "Whatever you may have in mind, you can stop thinking about it, now!" She grasped her sword and its tip struck the stranger's back right in the middle of his shoulder blades.

Batiste turned round at the sound of her voice and within one fluent move his sword lay in his hand ready to attack Caithleen without another word. His strikes came fast, aggressively and precise and each of them left a cut upon her skin: "Foolish broad! You dare to step in the way of Henry Batiste?"

The back of his hand hit her cheek with brutal vehemency and Caithleen collapsed in front of him. She let go of her sword and before she was able to pick it up again, Batiste stepped in her way and placed one of his boots on the blade. Barely with conscious, Caithleen shook her head to get rid of the numbness: "Jack was right not to trust you, bastard!" She panted for air and tried to get up.

Batiste stood above her, the pistol within his hand aimed at her: "Lo and behold who we have here! Jack's sweet little wench! As it seems, he really ran nuts about you, eh?" He spat out next to her and went on: "You and this slob, Sparrow! What do you think which chances you have to escape, this time? The Spanish are hell-bent on catching you and your ship, the French are hell-bent on catching you and your ship and as it seems I will be able to hand all of it together over to the highest bidder amongst them! Got me, little whore?"

"We?" Caithleen stopped short and frowned.

"Of course, cherie! Me and mon capitaine! The prize is more than enough for the two of us, believe me! All I regret is that there will be not enough time for me to spend it together with you!"

"What is all of this about? You own letters of marque signed by the King and Crown of England!"

Batiste burst out laughing: "Yes, lass, I own letters of marque. And no one will ever come to know that it was an English privateer who sent you and Sparrow down to the deep dark depths of the sea." He knelt down beside her and let his free hand slip roughly over her breasts: "It's a pity! I would have loved to break you in and teach you how it feels to get ridden by a real man, but, unfortunately, I've no time left for it. Well, then", he got up with a smirk while he held her down, one boot on one of her shoulders: "Adieu, ma chére!" He aimed at her again, then fired.

The shot cracked and Caithleen feared the pain would rip her into shreds. Her shoulder felt like being aflame and she felt her arm getting numb. Tears welled up within her eyes, the same from anger and pain.

Batiste put his pistol back to his belt and left her where she lay convinced his crew would finish her off.

How she even so made it to get up, Caithleen wasn't able to explain, later on, but somehow she managed to succeed. She picked herself up, even though every single fibre within her body started rebelling against her tries, and grasped for the small dagger she carried with her hidden inside her boot. She tossed it after Batiste with all the strength she had left. All she was able to hit was his thigh, but his screams and his own pain provided her enough time to stumble over to the steps leading up to the helm. She felt her blood running down her shoulder and she feared, everything could become black in front of her eyes before she would be able to reach Jack.

Jack himself missed everything going on behind him except of having heard a shot cracking. He had no time to think about it. His enemy was swift, a fairly good swordsman – and for sure about a head's length taller. Jack swore with gritted teeth and ducked to escape another strike when a heavy slap tossed him back against the helm. A well-directed kick broke his sword and nothing else but the handle remained whereat he stared out of wide open eyes unwilling to believe what he saw. Jack feared he might faint when the other lunged at him and clutched his throat with both hands. He gasped for air and desperately tried to free himself from the firm grip when another shot cracked. The iron grasp loosened and his antagonist hit the ground with a dull sound, a hole midst his brow.

Caithleen collapsed to her knees before she was able to crawl up the last steps to the helm. Her shoulder was burning and hurt and her once white shirt was soaked with blood. All she wanted to do was to give in when she noticed Batiste who crept up into the rig and tore his second pistol from his belt. She felt for her sword, but remembered that she lost it, and even that one single shot from her pistol did already find its aim. She knew it would be too late when she would have been able to reload her pistol and so there was only one thing she could do...

"Sparrow!"

It was as if time stood still, when Jack heard the cry from out of the rigging! He turned round, heard the shot crack and saw the shadow throwing itself between him and the bullet: "Caith! Don't!"

The same moment another broadside shattered the attacking vessel and the "Wing" broke free. The blow which hit the ship brought Jack down to his knees and Henry Batiste got tossed out of the rig straight into the sea. When he finally managed to pick himself up, Jack realized that he was covered with blood, but since he wasn't hurt, it wasn't his own, but...

"Caithleen! Love! Answer me!"

He stumbled over to her, barely able to walk and dropped down to his knees again. She did not move when he turned her round, but there were two wounds he was able to spot: One bullet went straight through her shoulder, the other got stuck within her body. Tried not to panic, he tore off his bandana and pressed it to the wound. Her hand closed round his but the same moment Caithleen fainted anew.

"Mister Jacobsen!"

"Aye, Captain!" The face of the older man appeared, his hair and beard singed, his clothes torn, but, fortunately, still alive.

"Take the helm, mate! Set full canvas, or better whatever we have left, and bring us out of here! Take care of the wounded and the dead and set course towards the next port in reach!"

"That will be Marseilles, Jack! But I fear, taking the condition of the ship into consideration, we'll need about a day, maybe two..!"

"We have no choice! We're in need of a doctor! Our surgeon got caught by the devil!"

"But Captain..."

"No ifs and buts, mate! Set sail for Marseilles!"