I'm feeling generous, so here's the second chapter. First meeting between James and Isabella... And you're going to see some of a Brine-Tongue's abilities.
I forgot to say it, but the title is the almost literal translation of the French phrase 'contre vents et marées', which basically means 'against all odds'.
There were times when Isabella thought that Jack had to be some kind of trickster god in human form and now was one of those times. She couldn't come up with any other way to explain why the marines who, mere minutes before, had been holding them at gunpoint, were now hanging on every word of the story he was spinning—an exciting adventure involving himself, a tribe of cannibals, and a crew of black-hearted smugglers, and one she knew to be a complete fabrication. Jack hadn't included her in the story, pretending it took place before they'd met, for which she was grateful as it spared her from having to participate in its narration. She lied well and manipulated with ease but, when it came to weaving words and deeds in a captivating whole, she couldn't best Jack. So, she was content with leaning against the rail, her arms loosely folded and her legs crossed at the ankles, a smile playing on her lips as Jack described the wild party that the tribe had thrown to celebrate their victory.
From where she stood, Isabella had an all-but unobstructed view of the glittering sea off the starboard side and of the cliff that towered over them, crowned by Fort Charles. For this reason, she was the only one who noticed the woman plummeting down into the sea from the parapet of the fort.
"Porca miseria!" she cried out, jerking upright.
She shoved past the startled marines and reached the starboard rail just as the woman hit the water with a loud splash, barely missing the rocks that showed on the surface. Moments later, an anguished shout—"Elizabeth!"—came from the fort. By then, Isabella had already removed her wide-brimmed black felt hat and thrust it at Marine Number One—the thinner one—, who fumbled to catch it.
"Hold this and don't you dare lose anything," she growled as she pulled off her baldric.
It joined her hat, followed seconds later by her dark red coat, her pistol, and the sheath holding her dagger.
"Are you sure it's a good idea?" Jack intervened, though he didn't make any move to stop her. "We really don't need the attention."
"I'm not letting her drown," the Italian woman retorted, leaping onto the rail.
With these words, she dove into the sea. Thankfully, the water was clear, which allowed her to spot her target immediately, and the currents weren't too strong. In a few powerful strokes, she had almost closed the distance between them when two things happened in quick succession. First, she heard someone enter the water behind her and knew with a thrill of relief that Jack had decided to help her. And then, with a sound akin to a muffled drumbeat, a thin shock wave swept outward in a swift wide circle with the drowning woman—Elizabeth—as its centre. It hit Isabella like a rope swung across her chest, pushing her back a feet or two and almost knocking the air from her lungs. At that moment, a certainty clenched her heart like a clawed hand of ice—something very, very bad was coming this way. It took her an effort of will to push her fear away and focus on the most urgent task, namely rescuing Elizabeth, who was floating just above the sandy seafloor, her long dark blond hair billowing around her head.
She reached her only moments before Jack. They each hooked a hand under her shoulders and dragged her up, fighting the weight of the water-logged gown. Finally, they broke the surface, gasping for air and blinking water from their eyes, but the hardest part was still ahead of them. The heavy gown kept tangling around their legs and they knew that they couldn't both carry the young woman without getting in each other's way.
"Gown," Isabella spat, struggling to keep Elizabeth's head above the water.
"I know," Jack grunted.
By tacit agreement, they took a deep breath and let themselves sink. In a few seconds, they had pulled the blasted thing off the young woman, leaving her only in her stays and a thin straight shift that didn't offer the water as much purchase to tug them down. Still, fighting the currents was much harder with only one free arm and the added weight of Elizabeth, so they took turns pulling her towards the dock, first Isabella and then Jack. At last, Isabella hauled herself out of the water and onto the dock, her muscles burning and her heart pounding. Still, she didn't allow herself to pause but helped Jack pull Elizabeth onto the pier, paying no attention to the two marines who had rushed to them, their arms still full of the pirates' belongings. As Jack hoisted himself up next to her, she knelt beside the young woman and put her cheek to her nose.
"Merda, she's not breathing," she huffed.
Jack snatched Isabella's dagger from Number One's arms, pushed Isabella aside to take her place, and sliced the laces that closed Elizabeth's stays. The second he'd yanked the stays off her, she jolted, her eyes flew open, and she rolled onto her side, coughing up half the Caribbean sea's worth of water.
"Never would've thought of that," Marine Number Two commented, clearly impressed, while Elizabeth sputtered and heaved.
"Clearly, you've never been to Singapore," Jack retorted, his voice rough from weariness.
Elizabeth fell back onto the wooden planks, working to catch her breath, her brown eyes wandering dazedly between the two pirates. Isabella opened her mouth to ask her how she felt but the words died in her throat when she caught Jack staring in disbelief at the medallion the young woman wore on a thin chain around her neck. Apparently made of solid gold, it was embossed with a skull surrounded by intricate patterns—not the kind of jewelry you'd expect a high-society lady to own. Elizabeth remained still as Jack picked it up, a shadow cast over his face.
"What is it?" Isabella queried, but he didn't appear to hear her.
"Where did you get that?" he asked softly, his eyes never leaving the medallion.
Elizabeth never got the chance to answer him because, at this moment, hurried footsteps clacked on the dock and the point of a slender but wickedly sharp sword was at Jack's throat. A company of soldiers, their rifles aimed straight at Jack, barred the land end of the dock; they were led by three Navy officers in blue coats and white wigs. The one who was threatening Jack with his sword was wearing a medal on a red ribbon around his neck—the newly promoted Commodore Norrington, no doubt. He was staring at the pirate with such hostility that Isabella almost expected her friend to spontaneously combust. With a grimace, she realized how bad the whole scene looked—Jack kneeling over Elizabeth, who was left only in her undergarments. Although, she had to wonder what her own role was supposed to be.
"On your feet," the commodore growled.
While Jack obeyed, Isabella picked up her dagger and put it back in its sheath, which she attached to her belt. At this moment, an older man in rich clothes and a long grey wig pushed past the soldiers and all but lunged at Elizabeth, gasping out her name in sheer relief. Her father, Isabella deduced as she stood up.
"Are you all right?" he asked urgently, helping the young woman to her feet and peeling off his blue coat to wrap it around her.
"Yes, I'm fine," Elizabeth assured him with a look over her shoulder at Jack and Isabella.
Her father's gaze travelled from her to Jack to the two marines still holding the pirates' effects. The aristocrat frowned in confusion when he spotted Isabella, unable to reconcile her presence with what he imagined had been happening. As for Isabella, she was watching the additional soldiers running down the ramp to the dock with dismay. A stream of withering Italian curses coursed through her mind. Jack bore the pirate brand and, while she didn't, she couldn't pass for anything other than a pirate—not dressed as she was.
To put in plainly, they were in deep, dark shit.
It wouldn't have happened if they hadn't rescued Elizabeth, of course, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Not that she was prone to heroism but she had strong enough a moral compass to know that, had she let the young woman drown, she wouldn't have been able to look at herself in a mirror. And if they were caught– No, one thing at a time, she thought, pushing away the guts-twisting image of the gallows that flashed in her mind. First, let's focus on not getting caught.
"We pulled your daughter out of the water," she chimed in, folding her arms and levelling a pointed look at the aristocrat. "In case you had another theory in mind."
Taken aback, he stared at her for a couple of seconds before turning a questioning gaze to his daughter.
"It's true, father," Elizabeth confirmed. She looked up at Norrington who, while no longer trying to incinerate Jack with his glare, was still studying him suspiciously. "Please, Commodore, lower your sword. They saved my life."
Norrington's eyes lingered on Jack for a moment longer, then slid to Isabella, whom he considered speculatively for a second. Suddenly, his face turned into an expressionless mask that worried Isabella considerably more than his glare, and he sheathed his sword with a sharp gesture.
"I believe thanks are in order," he said, offering his hand for Jack to shake.
All at once, Isabella's instincts bristled and hissed in alarm. She wouldn't have been able to say what tipped her off—not a look, or a word, or a twitch. She just had the sudden, absolute certainty that Jack shouldn't take that hand and she had learnt a long time ago to trust her gut. Unfortunately, before she could do more than opening her mouth, Jack reached out and clasped the commodore's hand.
He really shouldn't have.
Lightning-fast, Norrington tugged Jack towards him and yanked his sleeve up, exposing the P-shaped brand that denounced him as a pirate. Isabella felt as if her heart had turned to stone and dropped into her stomach. Merda.
"Had a brush with the East India Trading Company, did we, pirate?"
The commodore's taunting, satisfied tone had Isabella clenching her jaws. She curbed her sudden urge to punch him in the face and, instead, quickly scanned their surroundings for a way to escape.
"Hang him," Elizabeth's father ordered in far too gleeful a tone.
… No, all the possible ways out were blocked—by the sea, by the brig, by half a dozen soldiers armed with rifles.
"Keep your guns on him, men," Norrington commanded. "Gillette, fetch some irons." He pushed Jack's sleeve a little higher, revealing the bird tattooed on his arm. "Well, well. Jack Sparrow, isn't it?"
At that moment, the wind picked up, colder than it had been not an hour before and blowing from the sea. Its whisper slipped into Isabella's ear, seeking the way to her heart. She turned towards the sea and took two slow steps down the dock, her head cocked and her eyes closed. Behind her, Jack and Norrington were still talking but she was no longer listening to them.
What the sea wind breathed to her never took the form of words, or even of ideas, but only of flickering sensations and elusive feelings. But she was a Brine-Tongue, like her father, and his mother, and her father, and so on until Caterina Sforza, her great-great-great-grandmother, the first Brine-Tongue. The sea and its winds had been speaking to her since she was an infant and she understood their language as well as she did her own. That morning, she felt a darkness like an oily cloud that rolled towards them, pushed by the same wind that was warning her about it. She felt its speed fuelled by the voracity of its greed. She felt its coldness, as empty and absolute as death, frost creeping over her heart.
A hand pressed her shoulder and startled her out of her thoughts.
"Izzy, the commodore would like a word," Jack said.
Isabella took a second to finish regaining her footing in the physical world before turning to her friend, who frowned when he noticed the troubled look in her eyes.
"What did you hear?" he asked, familiar with Isabella's gifts.
The Italian woman glanced at the cerulean immensity murmuring behind her, towards the unseen threat coming straight at them.
"'By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes'," she quoted in a quiet tense voice. "But I don't know what that something is."
"You know your Shakespeare," Norrington commented, his surprise plain in his tone.
Che palle. I'd almost forgotten about them. For the first time since he'd arrived, she took a good look at the commodore. First, though, she had to firmly club the most superficial part of herself on the head so it would stop insisting that she let her eyes linger on his handsome face much longer than strictly necessary. But then, she saw the way he wore his uniform, as if he'd been born in it—which, come to think of it, was practically the case, given who his father had been. Unquestioning obedience to the king's laws and steadfast loyalty to the Royal Navy had surely been instilled in him from a young age. His eyes, though, weren't those of a self-righteous zealot. They were as green as the little jade dragon in her parents' cabin on the Danse Macabre and, though filled with wariness, they held a... not a light, exactly, but a clearness, like when, leaning over the rail of a ship, she could see the seabed through the sun-saturated water, all white sand studded with dark rocks. A good man, Isabella concluded, but one who'd send me to the gallows without a second thought.
"Yes, Commodore, I do," she retorted, too proud to let the Navy man think her an uneducated savage. "Among a great many other things. What can I say, I'm full of surprises."
"Do these surprises include the pirate brand?"
Since there was no point in delaying the inevitable, Isabella pushed up her right sleeve, revealing the unblemished olive skin of her forearm.
"See for yourself," she said in the most casual tone she could muster.
And now, the moment of truth. Would they demand to see her left arm? Would she have to show them the one thing that would prove them, beyond doubt, that she was a pirate?
"Show me your other arm," Norrington commanded, his inflexible gaze never leaving her face.
Her insides clenched nauseously. Merda. Merda. Merda. She hid her dismay behind a defiant mask, as if daring the commodore to show even the faintest satisfaction at her defeat, and shoved her sleeve up her left arm. In any other circumstance, she would have smiled at the very clear surprise that washed over Norrington's face when he saw the tattoo on her forearm.
A rearing hippocampus in profile, its blue-scaled tail forming a loop and its forepaws webbed, over a cutlass, with a little crab just above the pommel.
The Sforza family emblem.
"And here I thought that Valerio Sforza had murdered his entire family," Norrington commented.
Isabella caught a hint of curiosity in his otherwise impassive eyes when he looked back up at her. It didn't surprise her—the Sforzas were a bit of a legend, not only among pirates but also in the Western navies. The former held them in various degrees of respect, fear, and envy for their powers, their knowledge, and their staunch adherence to the Code; the latter knew them as the pirates who never killed when they didn't have to, not that it got them any preferential treatment, of course. The fact that their line dated back two hundred years only added to their aura.
Valerio's inhumanity had changed all that, though. Now, the Sforza name inspired only fear and hostility, even among pirates. Isabella knew, deep down, that she had a duty to put an end to the bloodbath but she wasn't ready to face her brother again, not after he'd almost killed her. And also because, even after everything he'd done, he was still her twin brother.
"That's what he thinks too," she deadpanned, shaking off her grim thoughts, as she covered her arm again.
"You're a Sforza?" Elizabeth suddenly chimed in, her eyes brimming with an enthusiastic curiosity that brought an amused quirk to Isabella's lips.
"That's right."
"You must be Valerio's sister," Norrington went on. "Isabella, is it?"
The woman in question gave him a tight false smile.
"Surprise."
"Your father once eluded mine."
Isabella felt a pang of nostalgia ripple through her as she remembered her father telling her nine-year-old self and her brother how the formidable Admiral Lawrence Norrington had chased him for two days, until he had come across two whales which, at his call, had surfaced right in the way of the admiral's ship.
"I know. And now, the son has caught the daughter. I'm sure your father would be very proud. Of course, I'm not the Sforza currently busy turning the Atlantic red..."
"Your brother's turn will come. Perhaps once I have eradicated piracy in the Caribbean."
Norrington suddenly stiffened, his pride stung by the half-mocking, half-pitying look in Isabella's russet eyes.
"You don't stand a chance against Valerio," she scoffed in a cutting tone. "And if he ever gets his hands on you? Well, you'd better kill yourself right away because he'll make your torture and death a spectacle for all the pirates in the western seas to watch."
Her words splashed the commodore's mind with the red of blood and pain and cruelty and something inside him shuddered and recoiled. Annoyed that she had managed to unsettle him so much but hiding his unease behind a stony mask, Norrington confiscated Isabella's dagger, grabbed each pirate by an arm, and marched them through the group of redcoats to Lieutenant Gillette, who was back with two pairs of shackles.
"Commodore, I really must protest!" Elizabeth huffed as she stormed after Norrington, her father's coat slipping off her without her noticing or caring.
Jack was handed to Gillette and Isabella to the third officer, who promptly busied themselves cuffing the pirates. Isabella had to repress a flinch when the cold weight of the manacles closed around her wrists. She chose to turn her attention to Jack instead. When she caught his eye, he gave her an almost imperceptible nod, which was all the confirmation she needed—he had a plan of escape. Time for a little distraction, then. All the sounds around her, from the clinking of the chain that hung between her wrists to Elizabeth's and Norrington's voices, faded as she reached deep inside herself and let out a mighty call, not with her voice but with the power that ran through her veins. A call that was meant to be heard not by humans but by something entirely different. A lot of somethings, actually. And hear they did, and came.
With a satisfied little smile, Isabella brought her focus back to the events at hand just in time to see Jack throw the chain of his manacles over Elizabeth's head and wrap it around her throat, forcing a startled gasp from her. The whole group surged forward even as Jack moved back, Elizabeth's body a shield against the soldiers' rifles, but the sight of the chain menacingly pressed against the young woman's throat stopped them in their tracks instantly.
"No– No, don't shoot!" Elizabeth's father cried out, his eyes wide with dread.
"I knew you'd warm up to me," Jack said with a wide mocking smile. "Izzy, come here."
Isabella stepped away from the Navy officer who had cuffed her and came to stand next to Jack. He glanced at her questioningly and she nodded in confirmation. Yes, she had done her part; she was ready when he was.
"Commodore, our effects, please," Jack demanded. "Mine first. And don't forget my hat."
Norrington hesitated, his fists balled in frustration, glaring at the pirates as if he could obliterate them just with the might of his wrath. But Isabella could see fear there too, causing her to wonder if he had been the one to shout Elizabeth's name with such terror when the young woman had fallen into the sea.
"Commodore?" Jack insisted.
Marine Number Two handed the pirate's belongings to Norrington, who grabbed them angrily and held them out to Elizabeth.
"Elizabeth– It is Elizabeth, isn't it?" Jack prodded when his hostage made no move to take his effects.
"It's Miss Swann," the young woman bit out.
She looked more angry than afraid, Isabella noticed. She's got steel in her, the Italian pirate thought appreciatively. I think I could like her. Then, Swann? Isn't that the name of the local governor? Interesting.
"Miss Swann, if you'd be so kind? Come come, dear, we don't have all day."
As Elizabeth finally picked up his things, Jack snatched his pistol from the pile and, jerking the young woman around so she faced him, he pointed it at her temple and cocked the hammer.
"Now, if you'd be very kind?"
With a small nod, Elizabeth got to work, first jamming the pirate's hat on. Isabella caught Norrington clenching his jaw in powerless rage when Elizabeth reached around Jack in order to put his baldric back in place, a movement that pressed her against him. Oh yes, she thought. Definitely in love. I wonder if she returns his feelings... The commodore's distress didn't escape Jack who, naturally, couldn't help grinning smugly.
"Easy on the goods, darling," Jack said as Elizabeth strapped on the baldric none-too-gently.
"You're despicable," his hostage hissed in response.
"Sticks and stones, love. We saved your life, you save ours, we're square. And now for my friend, Commodore," he went on in a louder voice. "Her effects, please."
He let Elizabeth turn around to take what Norrington was holding out to her. Isabella put everything back on as quickly as she could, though she had to tie the sleeves of her coat around her waist. She snuck a glance upward while she worked and withheld a smile. Because, while everyone had been watching the two pirates and their captive, dozens of sea birds had assembled in the sky high above them. Gulls, terns, petrels, frigatebirds, boobies, noddies, all swirling together in a great shattered cloud, eerily silent but for the distant rainstorm of their beating wings. They wouldn't stay for much longer, though. Now was the time to act. But first...
"If you're as intelligent as you look, Commodore, you'll heed my warning," she said, shoving her pistol under the dark red sash tied around her waist. "There's something bad coming this way. Whatever it is, it'll be here tonight. You'd better be prepared."
If the distrustful look he gave her was any indication, Norrington wouldn't take her advice but, at least, she knew she had done what she could for the inhabitants of Port Royal.
Time to go, then.
"Jack."
That was all she needed to say.
"Gentlemen... m'lady..." Jack and Isabella backed up slowly, the former pulling Elizabeth with him, their enemies matching each step backward with a step forward. "You will always remember this as the day that you almost caught Captain Jack..."
At the Brine-Tongue's inaudible signal, the sea birds swooped down in a pandemonium of squawks and shrieks. On everyone's faces, the initial startlement gave way to horror when they looked up and saw the rippling mass of screaming beaks and sharp claws diving straight at them. They had no way of knowing that the birds wouldn't hurt them, but only hide the pirates as they escaped.
"... Sparrow!"
Jack shoved Elizabeth into Norrington's arms right when the great flock engulfed him and his men.
"Get on my back," the pirate instructed his friend as he grabbed the hoisting rope of the cargo crane behind them.
Isabella threw the chain of her irons over his head and, jumping up, wrapped her legs around his waist. A kick to the winch that secured the rope and up they soared while the cannon attached to the other end of the rope plummeted and smashed through the dock. The moment they reached the top, Jack let go of the rope and caught another. Pulled free by their momentum and their combined weight, the jib swung around. Isabella hung on for dear life, feeling as if she'd left her insides on the ground, and cursed loudly in Italian.
"Stop distracting me!" Jack shouted.
And he let go of the rope just as they flew over the second crane, landing precariously on its jib. Thrown off balance by Isabella's weight, he teetered, windmilled his arms, and would have fallen off if Isabella hadn't swiftly grabbed hold of one of the crane's guylines to steady them before dropping off him. The two pirates spared a second to glance down at the people they'd left behind and caught only glimpses of them among the whirlwind of birds—some flailing in a vain effort to beat off the wings that slapped their faces, others huddled on the ground with their arms curled over their heads. As Isabella had predicted, the soldiers didn't dare shoot for fear of hitting each other.
"How long do we have?" Jack asked.
"Maybe ten seconds."
"Well, let's not waste them."
Jack snapped the chain of his manacles over the guyline, gripped the far loop, and, launching himself off the crane, slid down the line until he came over the land end of the dock. Isabella followed him as soon as he let go and ran after him across the small stone bridge that linked this part of the docks to the rest of the town, just as, behind them, the flock of birds scattered. When, moments later, Norrington and his men, their uniforms rumpled and their wigs askew, came rushing around the corner of the crane's stone base, the two pirates had already disappeared into the streets.
So? What did you guys think? Yeah, Brine-Tongues can communicate with sea creatures. They can't manipulate sea water or wind, however; that would make them too powerful. And Isabella's brother killed their parents and tried to kill her. Delightful, right? More details to come later...
The Sforza family emblem is what's on the cover, by the way. Have a look!
Oh, one last thing. Of course, nowadays, the "by the pricking of my thumbs" quote is a bit of a cliché but it probably wasn't in the 18th century (or at least not so much), hence Norrington's surprise at Isabella's knowledge.
I impatiently await your reviews ^^ No, seriously, I'd really like to know what you think of the story so far.
Translation:
- porca miseria = bloody hell
- che palle = what a pain/ugh