AN: Such lovely reviews! I'm splitting this next chapter into two parts, as it's so long - so I apologise for the cliffhanger at the end.
Oh - and as for the code - perhaps YOU can work it out before Jack does.
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The early morning rain had stopped now, as Jack ran from the fiasco he had created back at the church. The bells were chiming; he hoped that was to mark the hour rather than his christening chaos. The streets were washed clean and were covered with grey puddles reflecting the overcast sky above. Once Jack had got within one or two streets of where he was supposed to be meeting Annamaria, he slowed, reached into his inner pocket and drew out the mysterious leather-bound book that he had found in the vestry. He flipped it open, and it was a Bible. Why conceal a Bible? There had to be more to it than this - you could find a hundred Bibles in that church, none hidden inside a book with the pages cut out. He licked his finger and drew out the sheet of parchment that was tucked inside the innermost leaf of the Bible. The paper simply read:
"I sang a hundred and four Psalms for twenty-five days, and a revelation struck me that 1812 souls would be lost in the wreck. Matthew watched me for the twenty-five days voyage but joined me but eighteen times. His epiphany came after six hours and fifteen minutes, but he was told the wreck would founder in seven times seventeen minutes. There were three islands builded on I Peter 18."
And in a different, scrawling hand underneath, someone else had written "Beware Revelation 9:6."
"At least it's nice and vague," Jack muttered, and he began to look up the ninth chapter of Revelation. His eyes were straining to read the fine print of the Bible and he stumbled along, not watching where he placed his feet, splashing into the puddles. He didn't notice the red coat that materialised in front of him until he walked right into it. Then he raised his eyes to make contact with the irritated eyes of a regimental soldier. He recognised him - it was the captain of the fort. Norrington...Nerrington...Herrington...Herringbone?... someone like that, Jack thought quickly, glad that he hadn't officially made the captain's acquaintance.
"HERE! Watch it!" The officer said angrily. Then he noticed the dog collar, the robes. "Well, I'm sorry minister - absorbed in the Holy Word were we? Do allow me."
Raising his hat, the soldier bowed to him and Jack swept past, murmuring "Bless you, my man" as he did so. He didn't permit himself the ghost of a smile until he had put a little distance between himself and...Nottingbone. Then he grinned from ear to ear. First a christening, now a nod from the captain of the regiment! This was proving to be a very different type of day to Captain Jack Sparrow's usual.
Back to perusing the book, Jack finally isolated Revelation, Chapter Nine, and Verse 6. He read it out slowly: "And in those days shall men seek death, and will not find it; they shall desire to die, and death shall flee before them."
He stopped, rolling his eyes. "And what does that mean? Beware death? Beware wanting to die? Lot of rot..." Packing the book and the paper back up together, he thrust them back inside his robes. The puzzle would have to wait a little longer to be solved. There was a more pressing problem - he had reached the spot where Annamaria was meant to meet him, and she was nowhere to be seen. He started to walk down the dark alley he had seen her disappear down that morning, and stopped when he saw her discarded dress lying on the stones.
Annamaria had waited and waited for Jack. She heard the church bells chiming the hour from her doorstep and sighed. His time was up. Flinging her old clothes to the ground - she had kept them in a bundle in case they were required - she began to walk quickly down the alley, almost to the end. This part of the town was a maze of streets, since when the town was built the area was built upon higgledy-piggledy. Consequently, lane after lane criss-crossed the area like spider webs. She kept her head down so as to get through as quickly as possible, making for the dock area. The last thing she needed right now was to meet someone who knew her. The buildings rose up on either side, blocking out the feeble daylight, but at least the rain had stopped.
She reached a point where three lanes intersected with the alley and momentarily lost her bearings. Bloody hell, Annamaria thought furiously, angry with herself: you've been down here so often that the streets oughtn't to look the same anymore! She picked the middle one and walked a little down it. No one in this district would be up yet - not unless they were still on last night's bender - yet she could have sworn that there had been a figure standing in the gloom up ahead of her, which had ducked into a doorway. She slowed, unsure, and her voice involuntarily quavered a little.
"Is anybody there?"
"Darlin', somebody is." a voice drawled. Annamaria recognised it, and her bad dream of the night before.
After he saw the dress, Jack knew he was in the right place. He quickly walked down the alley, peering into all the side lanes. It was impossible to tell if the girl had taken any of the other streets. He fingered his pistol and checked that his sword was still hanging by his side. There'd be cutpurses and desperate men in these streets, looking for an easy target, and a chaplain would do the trick nicely. It was unlucky for them that most ministers didn't carry an armoury hidden under their cassocks.
When he heard a scream from Annamaria he broke into a run. Rounding the corner, he saw the girl crouched on the ground, clearly winded, with a man nearly twice his size kicking her in the stomach. He had just knelt down and brought his fist back to punch her in the face when Jack tapped him on the shoulder.
"You'd better not be doing anything with that fist, mate," Jack said pleasantly, "that doesn't involve ramming it up your own backside."
The man stood up, astonished, as Annamaria tried desperately to fight for breath on the stones. "You look like a clergyman, yet you talk like..."
"Like a pirate?" Jack supplied, taking off his cassock to reveal shirt and britches beneath. Folding the cassock, he placed it on the cobbles. "Perhaps that's because I am. And who are you?" Carefully he placed the collection box from the church and the leather Bible on top of the folded up robes.
"Murdock's my name," the larger man said menacingly. "What are you doing?" he asked, dumbfounded. He began to crack his knuckles ominously - this man didn't even appear to be scared of him at all.
Jack looked up. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm arranging my belongings, savvy? They're hard to carry around in a fight," he said, drawing his sword, straightening up, and gesturing to Annamaria. "And we'll be fighting now."
"You don't even know this girl," the older man sneered. "She's a filthy whore."
"Is she?" Jack queried. "I didn't know."
Behind him on the ground, Annamaria was hurting all over, and could barely see through the unshed tears in her eyes. She was angry at her weakness, but she was in so much pain that she had no control over what her eyes chose to do. She tried to breath in deeply, and her ribs stabbed like knives. Jack saw her shudderingly raise herself to her hands and knees behind Murdock, and immediately switched his attention back to her assailant.
As the man took a step towards him, unsheathing his own sword, Jack held up a hand to arrest him. "I forgot something," he said with a smile, reaching up and pulling off his borrowed wig. He put it on the little pile of his belongings.
"Right! Are you ready now!"
"Oh, yes," Jack said obligingly, and suddenly lunged forward with his sword.
Oh - and as for the code - perhaps YOU can work it out before Jack does.
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The early morning rain had stopped now, as Jack ran from the fiasco he had created back at the church. The bells were chiming; he hoped that was to mark the hour rather than his christening chaos. The streets were washed clean and were covered with grey puddles reflecting the overcast sky above. Once Jack had got within one or two streets of where he was supposed to be meeting Annamaria, he slowed, reached into his inner pocket and drew out the mysterious leather-bound book that he had found in the vestry. He flipped it open, and it was a Bible. Why conceal a Bible? There had to be more to it than this - you could find a hundred Bibles in that church, none hidden inside a book with the pages cut out. He licked his finger and drew out the sheet of parchment that was tucked inside the innermost leaf of the Bible. The paper simply read:
"I sang a hundred and four Psalms for twenty-five days, and a revelation struck me that 1812 souls would be lost in the wreck. Matthew watched me for the twenty-five days voyage but joined me but eighteen times. His epiphany came after six hours and fifteen minutes, but he was told the wreck would founder in seven times seventeen minutes. There were three islands builded on I Peter 18."
And in a different, scrawling hand underneath, someone else had written "Beware Revelation 9:6."
"At least it's nice and vague," Jack muttered, and he began to look up the ninth chapter of Revelation. His eyes were straining to read the fine print of the Bible and he stumbled along, not watching where he placed his feet, splashing into the puddles. He didn't notice the red coat that materialised in front of him until he walked right into it. Then he raised his eyes to make contact with the irritated eyes of a regimental soldier. He recognised him - it was the captain of the fort. Norrington...Nerrington...Herrington...Herringbone?... someone like that, Jack thought quickly, glad that he hadn't officially made the captain's acquaintance.
"HERE! Watch it!" The officer said angrily. Then he noticed the dog collar, the robes. "Well, I'm sorry minister - absorbed in the Holy Word were we? Do allow me."
Raising his hat, the soldier bowed to him and Jack swept past, murmuring "Bless you, my man" as he did so. He didn't permit himself the ghost of a smile until he had put a little distance between himself and...Nottingbone. Then he grinned from ear to ear. First a christening, now a nod from the captain of the regiment! This was proving to be a very different type of day to Captain Jack Sparrow's usual.
Back to perusing the book, Jack finally isolated Revelation, Chapter Nine, and Verse 6. He read it out slowly: "And in those days shall men seek death, and will not find it; they shall desire to die, and death shall flee before them."
He stopped, rolling his eyes. "And what does that mean? Beware death? Beware wanting to die? Lot of rot..." Packing the book and the paper back up together, he thrust them back inside his robes. The puzzle would have to wait a little longer to be solved. There was a more pressing problem - he had reached the spot where Annamaria was meant to meet him, and she was nowhere to be seen. He started to walk down the dark alley he had seen her disappear down that morning, and stopped when he saw her discarded dress lying on the stones.
Annamaria had waited and waited for Jack. She heard the church bells chiming the hour from her doorstep and sighed. His time was up. Flinging her old clothes to the ground - she had kept them in a bundle in case they were required - she began to walk quickly down the alley, almost to the end. This part of the town was a maze of streets, since when the town was built the area was built upon higgledy-piggledy. Consequently, lane after lane criss-crossed the area like spider webs. She kept her head down so as to get through as quickly as possible, making for the dock area. The last thing she needed right now was to meet someone who knew her. The buildings rose up on either side, blocking out the feeble daylight, but at least the rain had stopped.
She reached a point where three lanes intersected with the alley and momentarily lost her bearings. Bloody hell, Annamaria thought furiously, angry with herself: you've been down here so often that the streets oughtn't to look the same anymore! She picked the middle one and walked a little down it. No one in this district would be up yet - not unless they were still on last night's bender - yet she could have sworn that there had been a figure standing in the gloom up ahead of her, which had ducked into a doorway. She slowed, unsure, and her voice involuntarily quavered a little.
"Is anybody there?"
"Darlin', somebody is." a voice drawled. Annamaria recognised it, and her bad dream of the night before.
After he saw the dress, Jack knew he was in the right place. He quickly walked down the alley, peering into all the side lanes. It was impossible to tell if the girl had taken any of the other streets. He fingered his pistol and checked that his sword was still hanging by his side. There'd be cutpurses and desperate men in these streets, looking for an easy target, and a chaplain would do the trick nicely. It was unlucky for them that most ministers didn't carry an armoury hidden under their cassocks.
When he heard a scream from Annamaria he broke into a run. Rounding the corner, he saw the girl crouched on the ground, clearly winded, with a man nearly twice his size kicking her in the stomach. He had just knelt down and brought his fist back to punch her in the face when Jack tapped him on the shoulder.
"You'd better not be doing anything with that fist, mate," Jack said pleasantly, "that doesn't involve ramming it up your own backside."
The man stood up, astonished, as Annamaria tried desperately to fight for breath on the stones. "You look like a clergyman, yet you talk like..."
"Like a pirate?" Jack supplied, taking off his cassock to reveal shirt and britches beneath. Folding the cassock, he placed it on the cobbles. "Perhaps that's because I am. And who are you?" Carefully he placed the collection box from the church and the leather Bible on top of the folded up robes.
"Murdock's my name," the larger man said menacingly. "What are you doing?" he asked, dumbfounded. He began to crack his knuckles ominously - this man didn't even appear to be scared of him at all.
Jack looked up. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm arranging my belongings, savvy? They're hard to carry around in a fight," he said, drawing his sword, straightening up, and gesturing to Annamaria. "And we'll be fighting now."
"You don't even know this girl," the older man sneered. "She's a filthy whore."
"Is she?" Jack queried. "I didn't know."
Behind him on the ground, Annamaria was hurting all over, and could barely see through the unshed tears in her eyes. She was angry at her weakness, but she was in so much pain that she had no control over what her eyes chose to do. She tried to breath in deeply, and her ribs stabbed like knives. Jack saw her shudderingly raise herself to her hands and knees behind Murdock, and immediately switched his attention back to her assailant.
As the man took a step towards him, unsheathing his own sword, Jack held up a hand to arrest him. "I forgot something," he said with a smile, reaching up and pulling off his borrowed wig. He put it on the little pile of his belongings.
"Right! Are you ready now!"
"Oh, yes," Jack said obligingly, and suddenly lunged forward with his sword.