Despite appearances to the contrary -- tales of indolent pirates suddenly spying a ship, leaping up, and scuttling over and easily besting the innocents after firing a few suppressive cannon shots -- executing a raid was rather hard work, and not to be undertaken with only five minutes' planning. Jack's crew, like any good one -- "good" meaning "still alive" -- not only kept their ship in shape but themselves as well; Jack insisted on drills and had recently put Will in charge to help those challenged by wielding swords.
Nevertheless, Jack faced the fact he only had minutes to prepare further attack and a boarding party to follow up. He directed that Connors and Curly be tied to the mizzenmast until further order, and the rest of the crew to their various stations -- cannons, armory, ropes and grapples. Though he normally would've been the first one at the bow, ready to board, Jack hauled himself up a bit into the rigging and extended his telescope, thankful for the full moon still overhead. What little light it cast showed the ship steadily plowing closer, no signs of surrender.
Jack squinted; he couldn't be sure, but he thought it sailed beneath a military flag. Glancing down around deck, he spotted the best pair of eyes on the Pearl. "David!" he bellowed, getting the boy's attention. "Front an' center!" He snapped his fingers, indicating the youth should join him on the mast.
Without question, David scrabbled up the mast, crablike, perching just below Jack's position. "Captain?" he asked, cocking his head in eager confusion; the pirate could imagine he liked feeling useful.
"Take a look at tha' an' tell me what you see." He offered his glass, and David accepted, turning to face the bow and extending the glass, balancing himself in rigging and craning forward to concentrate. Jack put out a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady him, almost holding his breath to hear the verdict.
It was a couple of minutes before David apparently felt confident enough to speak. "It looks as though they're sailing under a French flag, sir."
"What do ye see on deck?" Jack lifted his chin and stared over David's head, as though he could discern from this distance with naked eye.
A hesitant pause. "Don't look like officers. No uniforms."
"Hmm." Jack had seen the same thing and didn't want to think about what it meant. "That'll be all, boy. Get down an' out o' sight."
"Sir," David turned and handed back his telescope, "I can help. I can load-"
"I gave you a direct order, whelp." Jack's tone was hard and unyielding. "Do ye mean to imply ye know ship's business better 'n I do?"
David blinked, then silently shook his head. Jack noticed a set to his jaw and mused on how much it resembled one of Will's scowls. "Off wit' ye," he pushed down on the lad's shoulder, clearly dismissing him. "Hide, or I'll 'ave yours."
Jack fairly slid down the ropes and landed on deck with a thump of booted heels. Looking about, he found Ana overseeing preparations at port to prepare small weapons and board. Pulling her back by an elbow, he leaned in and spoke near her ear. "Get below an' o'ersee th' cannons," he ordered.
She turned, giving him an odd look of consternation and curiosity. "That's Mart's job."
"Well, then go help 'im. I'll get after this," he gestured toward the men readying to board. "I wan' a full volley on 'er 'til we get aboard, once I give th' order; then I want you at th' helm, ready t' make way wit' a moment's notice. I give th' signal, ye be ready to turn an' plow."
"Are you sure it's wise to-"
"Dammit, woman, does e'eryone think me daft this mornin'?" Jack ground out in exasperation. "'M th' captain, an' I oughtn' be questioned s' much. I 'casionally know what I'm doing." Pitching his voice lower, he didn't drop his tone. "Why in th' world would I come up wit' such a plan if'n I ne'er intended t' need it, 'nyway?"
"Who knows why you do the things you do?" Ana sassed, but shook her head and turned to head off. Jack grabbed her elbow again. "Savvy?" he pressed through gritted teeth.
"Aye, *Captain.*" She shook herself free. "I've never refused to follow your orders."
Jack said nothing as she walked off, unable to rebut that. He approached the crew sorting out ropes and hooks, and paused briefly to inspect each pirate's progress. "Listen up!" he called about him to get their attention for the second time in less than a day; all paused, and Jack looked them over, resting his eyes on Will briefly at each pass to anchor his thoughts. "I've real simple orders for you dogs: On deck, attack where ye can, scramble back o'er here."
"The cargo, Cap'n?" piped up one of the newer sailors.
"Leave it," Jack ordered gruffly, shaking his head, beads swinging slightly. "Don' have time for spoils; this'n's not a ship to be messin' with. Shouldn' attacked in th' first place," he scowled darkly, stiffening his shoulders. "But what's done is done, an' our best bet is t' get th' crew an' the Pearl out safe, avoid bein' chased if we can. Means you all come back when I give th' order to follow th' plan." He flicked his eyes beyond the rail and frowned anew at the ship bearing down; it would be within firing range in mere minutes. "Damn thing can't e'en be sunk properly."
Still, it had to be tried. Turning on his heel, Jack headed below to the cannons. He passed pirates in various stages of preparation along the way, mostly strapping on blades and checking pistols for shot and powder. As his boots clipped along the time-dampened thick wood, he wondered about heading back to his own cabin for coat and hat -- wasn't quite proper for the captain to go boarding looking like a common crewman -- but quickly pushed the notion aside as he reached the cannons.
Weaving through rushing men, Jack crouched across the largest gun from Mart, who was undoubtedly standing on a crate to see over the iron. "They all ready?" Jack queried.
The midget nodded, apprehension slightly coloring his expression. "It's a big ship, Captain."
"I don' 'spect we'll be sendin' her down t' see Ol' Hop," Jack assured him. "I just need 'er crew distracted by a bigger problem so we can get o'er an' hopefully, disable 'nough of th' crew tha' we can get 'way intact." As he spoke, Jack patted the iron, as if encouraging it.
"No swag, then?"
Jack reflected this was probably the longest conversation he'd held with Mart. "Too risky; 'alf our people'd get maimed or killed in th' process. Better to come back, live to raid, pillage, an' plunder some other day."
"Well, I can guarantee we'll keep them distracted for at least a while," Mart nodded. "But we'll not want to be using up all the ammunition."
"Someone needs to be at the helm." Ana's voice cut into their conference from behind the cannon, where she stood with hands on her hips.
"Aye, that'd be you," Jack nodded. He cut a glance sideways at Mart, but the smaller man said nothing.
She arched a dark brow at the ensuing silence. "No last-minute pearls of wisdom?"
"Jus' don' run me ship into a reef or an isle, or pick up any more curses," he half-growled. "Had to work like th' devil to get rid o' the last 'un."
"Good luck, Jack." With that, Ana left, and Jack and Mart were left once again facing each other over the cannon. "How long?" the captain tilted his head toward the other ship, which the Pearl had turned hard to port to attack.
"Couple more minutes," the chief gunner replied, his faced tilted toward the sea, judging, measuring.
Sparrow was quiet a bit longer. "Ye know," he finally spoke, "maybe I've been hasty, not lettin' ye at th' helm. With a crate, in calm seas, you could prob'ly fare well."
"And why not rough waters?" Mart pushed. "It's not like I've never helmed a vessel before, Captain. Just because I've not the long legs of a gazelle doesn't mean I can't hold my own." Jack lifted a curious brow at the tone. "After all, he's less experience being a seaman than I do."
"It is the height," the captain admitted. "But th' whelp's good-" Jack caught himself; to a man Mart's age, it probably wouldn't help being reminded someone a few years younger was being given responsibility he'd been denied thus far. "*Turner's* a good choice t' steer th' helm. He's all tha' upper-body muscle from workin' th' anvil for so many years. An' he can see o'er it without any help, mate."
Mart said nothing, and Jack took his silence for acquiescence and let it stand for the next couple of moments, until the midget moved along the iron toward the fuse. He caught his captain's eye and nodded, and Jack's hand immediately went to his sash, feeling for the guns, daggers, and sword he'd buckled on so shortly before. He cast his eye once again on the approaching ship, still bow-first facing the *Pearl*; its guns were not aimed this way, and Jack was highly suspicious. Once again he was reminded why he didn't want to take on the French vessel.
Finally, he could take no more waiting; it was time, or else. "Or else, indeed," he muttered under his breath, then rose up a bit taller in the confined vertical space of the gunnery. Glancing about at the prepared pirates manning the other cannons, Jack then caught Mart's eye, nodded, and brought the flat of his hand down hard on the iron.
"FIRE!"