Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: again, thanks for the reviews - any and all comments are still gratefully received. I hoard reviews like pirates hoard loot. :)
----
"I'm looking for the crew of the Black Pearl," Jack said, pulling at the filthy sleeve of a passing sailor. The man peered at him blearily.
"Ne'er 'eard of 'er," he said, and staggered away.
Jack threw his hands in the air in frustration. So far he had asked three sailors, two innkeepers and a woman in a red dress, and none of them had heard of the Pearl or her crew. He stood still in the middle of the street, and considered his options.
He could not return to the ship, that was certain. By now he knew that Sykes and his mysterious companion would have broken out of the hatch and would be furious to find that their escape route had escaped. He also knew that the cook, at least, would still be on board, for most of the men could not swim. Jack himself, who had learnt to swim in Portsmouth harbour as a small boy, found this idea strange. But Thornton had explained it early on: a sailor who cannot swim will drown all the quicker if his ship goes down.
And so he was left with having to scour Tortuga for people he knew, who would either be drunk, or unconscious, or with a woman. Jack was fairly clear on the mechanics of the last, and hoped that whoever he did find was merely under the influence of drink.
He looked around, and chose the nearest tavern to try next.
Weaving his way through the staggering bodies that were the inn's customers, he looked around for someone he knew. Nobody. Sighing, Jack made his way to the bar and stood on tiptoes to attract the innkeeper's attention.
"Sir!" he called. Best to be polite at first.
"We don't serve children," the innkeeper shot back.
"I'm looking for the crew of the Pearl," Jack said. "Cap'n Flint? It's important."
"And who might you be, lad?" the innkeeper asked, a flicker of something crossing his face.
"Me? I'm Jack Sparrow," Jack said.
"And that explains everything, does it, Jack Sparrow?"
"You know where the cap'n is," Jack said, knowing he was right. "If you tell me where to go, I'll make sure he knows you helped."
The innkeeper laughed. "I'm to help a pirate's cabin boy, now, am I?"
"It'll be the worse for you if you don't," promised Jack, confident. He felt in his pocket, and pulled out the little leather pouch he kept his coins in. "Here." He dangled the pouch before the innkeeper's greedy eyes. "If you tell me where the cap'n might be."
The man sighed. "Drive a hard bargain, don't 'ee, Jack Sparrow? Flint'll be at the Widow Lejean's, always is when he comes to Tortuga. Down t'street, turn left, battered blue door."
Jack grinned. "Thanks." He tossed the leather pouch at the innkeeper and was off, darting through the tavern's clients and out into the street.
The widow's blue door was the only one in her street that was painted, and Jack hammered on it with all his strength.
"Cap'n Flint!" he called. "Cap'n!"
From within there were irritated voices, and then footsteps, and finally the door opened and the captain stood there in shirtsleeves. "Sparrow? I left you on the ship under orders."
"Sykes came to take the loot," Jack said, breathless from his rush from the tavern.
"What?!" The captain's eyebrows shot up.
"He drugged the rum," Jack explained. "We fell asleep, but I woke up when he came along." He hesitated. "I reckon Roberto's dead, stuck with a sword, but I took their skiff and came to find you. They're aboard the Pearl, won't escape easy."
Flint seemed to have got stuck at the beginning of the tale. "Sykes, ye say?"
"Aye, sir. I tried to find the rest o' the crew, but couldn't - I'm sorry I left the ship ..."
The captain shook his head. "Nay, lad, you did the right thing. Wait here." He disappeared inside the house, leaving the door open, and in a few moments returned with his jacket and hat on and his sword at his side.
With Flint at his side, finding the crew proved easier. They rounded up half a dozen of the least drunk, Bill Turner among them, and set off back towards the ship.
They could soon see two figures pacing the deck, and closer up could hear their argument.
"I told you to find the boy!"
"I didn't think he'd be a problem, did I?" Sykes's angry voice drifted back across the water. "Blasted kid."
"We go aboard nice and quiet," Captain Flint told his men. "Subdue and bind 'em."
The skiff slid quietly up to the Black Pearl, and Jack tied it up while the men began to climb the rope, one after another. Above him, there was a shout, the sound of a scuffle, and then Bill Turner's voice. "Got him!"
Jack climbed the rope and swung himself over the rail. One of the men was holding a handkerchief to a gash on his forehead, and another was holding his knife with his left hand, but otherwise the loyal crew seemed unhurt. Bootstrap was sitting on Sykes, and both the cook and his accomplice had their hands bound.
"There he is!" the stranger said, on seeing Jack. "You little ..."
"Shut up!" Flint said, his voice full of rage. Jack examined the man with interest. He was tall, and well-built, and had the characteristic honey-coloured skin of a Creole. Most exciting of all were the elaborate tattoos covering his bare torso, and Jack gazed in fascination.
"Bootstrap, get him up," the captain ordered, and Bill grasped his captive's collar and hauled him to his feet. "Now, Sykes, what have ye got to say for yourself?" Flint asked, stepping up to his cook.
"Are these all the men you could muster, cap'n?" Sykes retorted. "Handful of idiots what can't get themselves a lay, even in Tortuga?"
"Rather that than a traitor," Bill muttered.
"You'd steal from me, would you?" the captain said.
"Aye, I would. Know what they call you, be'ind your back, like? Skinflint. Mean with the booty, and not 'alf ruthless enough to be a real pirate."
There was a chorus of dissent from the other pirates. But Flint waved his knife in the air, and they quietened.
"You're condemned by your own words, Sykes," the captain said sadly. "I'm sorry for it - you're a good cook, and I was thinking you're a good man. Take him to the brig, Bill."
Jack reflected it was a sign of the captain's mood that he called Bill Turner by his first name rather than his nickname. Sykes was dragged off, and Flint turned to the stranger.
"Got a name?" The man merely spat at the captain, who shrugged. "He can join Sykes in the brig."
They left the two men languishing in the iron cages below decks, and while half the men went back to Tortuga to find their crewmates, the others sorted the bags of loot that had been taken and put them back in the hold.
But a more sombre task still awaited them. Jack followed Captain Flint up to the helm, and watched as the captain bent over Roberto's body.
"I'm sorry, sir," Jack said, gazing down at the lifeless shape of the Italian.
"People die, lad," the captain returned, turning Roberto over. Jack saw a bloody slash across the mate's throat, and a pool of congealing blood on the decking. "Ye know that. Being a pirate is a dangerous business." He straightened.
"Aye, I know that," Jack said. "But, cap'n, he wasn't killed in battle. He was asleep. Cold blood, that is."
"And they'll pay for it, never you fear," Flint said grimly.
The next day, once all the crew were back on board (some more sober than others), the Black Pearl sailed again. She took a course back out towards open ocean, Flint guiding her unerringly past shoals and rocks. Jack, watching for unseen obstacles from the bowsprit, saw after a few hours of sailing that there was a small island ahead of them - more a sparsely vegetated rock, in fact, than a true island. There was no other land within sight. The captain called for the anchor to be lowered, and ordered the captives on deck.
The crew were tense and silent as they waited to hear the sentence on the two men. They knew the code - treason was a heinous crime, and deserved the worst punishment.
Captain Flint drew his cutlass, a wickedly edged blade from the East.
"Robert Sykes, you stand here accused of desire to steal from the Black Pearl, and of conspiring against ship, captain and crew. You also stand accused of the murder of Roberto Verdano, first mate of this ship. How do you plead?"
"Guilty," Sykes spat out. Flint nodded, and turned to the strange Creole.
"You also stand accused of conspiring to steal, and of the murder of Roberto Verdano. How do you plead?" The Creole said nothing, but stared at the captain with hard eyes. Flint turned to the crew. "Do any here have evidence that this man is guilty?"
All eyes went to Jack, who nodded. "Aye, sir, I do. I heard him talking, last evening; and I heard 'em kill Roberto."
"Thank you, lad," Flint said. He faced the captives once more. "You are found guilty, and I condemn you to being marooned on that island. You will now walk the plank. Thornton, lower the plank."
"Aye, cap'n." Thornton, his face grim, slotted the thin plank of wood into place so that it jutted out over the blue waters.
"Do we not get a pistol?" Sykes asked.
"Your behaviour has not earned that," the captain returned. "Starve to death - it's a peculiarly apt end for a cook." He gave Sykes a push on to the plank. "Get on wi' ye."
Sykes held out his bound wrists, and with a snarl Flint cut the ropes. The cook grinned, and stepped out.
"Good luck to you all," he said, and stared hard at Jack. "You too, lad. Too clever fer yer own good."
Then he jumped, and came up gasping and floundering in the water before making some splashing effort in the direction of the islet.
The silent Creole said nothing as he followed Sykes into the water. All the pirates rushed to the side to watch as he surfaced, swam a few easy strokes to Sykes and grasped him around the chest before setting off to the islet.
"Trust us to maroon someone who can swim," Thornton said bitterly, as the two shapes disappeared towards the island.
Flint turned away from the water. "Let that be a lesson to all o' you. Weigh anchor. Hands to the mainsheets - we're going back to Tortuga."
----
TBC
Author's note: again, thanks for the reviews - any and all comments are still gratefully received. I hoard reviews like pirates hoard loot. :)
----
"I'm looking for the crew of the Black Pearl," Jack said, pulling at the filthy sleeve of a passing sailor. The man peered at him blearily.
"Ne'er 'eard of 'er," he said, and staggered away.
Jack threw his hands in the air in frustration. So far he had asked three sailors, two innkeepers and a woman in a red dress, and none of them had heard of the Pearl or her crew. He stood still in the middle of the street, and considered his options.
He could not return to the ship, that was certain. By now he knew that Sykes and his mysterious companion would have broken out of the hatch and would be furious to find that their escape route had escaped. He also knew that the cook, at least, would still be on board, for most of the men could not swim. Jack himself, who had learnt to swim in Portsmouth harbour as a small boy, found this idea strange. But Thornton had explained it early on: a sailor who cannot swim will drown all the quicker if his ship goes down.
And so he was left with having to scour Tortuga for people he knew, who would either be drunk, or unconscious, or with a woman. Jack was fairly clear on the mechanics of the last, and hoped that whoever he did find was merely under the influence of drink.
He looked around, and chose the nearest tavern to try next.
Weaving his way through the staggering bodies that were the inn's customers, he looked around for someone he knew. Nobody. Sighing, Jack made his way to the bar and stood on tiptoes to attract the innkeeper's attention.
"Sir!" he called. Best to be polite at first.
"We don't serve children," the innkeeper shot back.
"I'm looking for the crew of the Pearl," Jack said. "Cap'n Flint? It's important."
"And who might you be, lad?" the innkeeper asked, a flicker of something crossing his face.
"Me? I'm Jack Sparrow," Jack said.
"And that explains everything, does it, Jack Sparrow?"
"You know where the cap'n is," Jack said, knowing he was right. "If you tell me where to go, I'll make sure he knows you helped."
The innkeeper laughed. "I'm to help a pirate's cabin boy, now, am I?"
"It'll be the worse for you if you don't," promised Jack, confident. He felt in his pocket, and pulled out the little leather pouch he kept his coins in. "Here." He dangled the pouch before the innkeeper's greedy eyes. "If you tell me where the cap'n might be."
The man sighed. "Drive a hard bargain, don't 'ee, Jack Sparrow? Flint'll be at the Widow Lejean's, always is when he comes to Tortuga. Down t'street, turn left, battered blue door."
Jack grinned. "Thanks." He tossed the leather pouch at the innkeeper and was off, darting through the tavern's clients and out into the street.
The widow's blue door was the only one in her street that was painted, and Jack hammered on it with all his strength.
"Cap'n Flint!" he called. "Cap'n!"
From within there were irritated voices, and then footsteps, and finally the door opened and the captain stood there in shirtsleeves. "Sparrow? I left you on the ship under orders."
"Sykes came to take the loot," Jack said, breathless from his rush from the tavern.
"What?!" The captain's eyebrows shot up.
"He drugged the rum," Jack explained. "We fell asleep, but I woke up when he came along." He hesitated. "I reckon Roberto's dead, stuck with a sword, but I took their skiff and came to find you. They're aboard the Pearl, won't escape easy."
Flint seemed to have got stuck at the beginning of the tale. "Sykes, ye say?"
"Aye, sir. I tried to find the rest o' the crew, but couldn't - I'm sorry I left the ship ..."
The captain shook his head. "Nay, lad, you did the right thing. Wait here." He disappeared inside the house, leaving the door open, and in a few moments returned with his jacket and hat on and his sword at his side.
With Flint at his side, finding the crew proved easier. They rounded up half a dozen of the least drunk, Bill Turner among them, and set off back towards the ship.
They could soon see two figures pacing the deck, and closer up could hear their argument.
"I told you to find the boy!"
"I didn't think he'd be a problem, did I?" Sykes's angry voice drifted back across the water. "Blasted kid."
"We go aboard nice and quiet," Captain Flint told his men. "Subdue and bind 'em."
The skiff slid quietly up to the Black Pearl, and Jack tied it up while the men began to climb the rope, one after another. Above him, there was a shout, the sound of a scuffle, and then Bill Turner's voice. "Got him!"
Jack climbed the rope and swung himself over the rail. One of the men was holding a handkerchief to a gash on his forehead, and another was holding his knife with his left hand, but otherwise the loyal crew seemed unhurt. Bootstrap was sitting on Sykes, and both the cook and his accomplice had their hands bound.
"There he is!" the stranger said, on seeing Jack. "You little ..."
"Shut up!" Flint said, his voice full of rage. Jack examined the man with interest. He was tall, and well-built, and had the characteristic honey-coloured skin of a Creole. Most exciting of all were the elaborate tattoos covering his bare torso, and Jack gazed in fascination.
"Bootstrap, get him up," the captain ordered, and Bill grasped his captive's collar and hauled him to his feet. "Now, Sykes, what have ye got to say for yourself?" Flint asked, stepping up to his cook.
"Are these all the men you could muster, cap'n?" Sykes retorted. "Handful of idiots what can't get themselves a lay, even in Tortuga?"
"Rather that than a traitor," Bill muttered.
"You'd steal from me, would you?" the captain said.
"Aye, I would. Know what they call you, be'ind your back, like? Skinflint. Mean with the booty, and not 'alf ruthless enough to be a real pirate."
There was a chorus of dissent from the other pirates. But Flint waved his knife in the air, and they quietened.
"You're condemned by your own words, Sykes," the captain said sadly. "I'm sorry for it - you're a good cook, and I was thinking you're a good man. Take him to the brig, Bill."
Jack reflected it was a sign of the captain's mood that he called Bill Turner by his first name rather than his nickname. Sykes was dragged off, and Flint turned to the stranger.
"Got a name?" The man merely spat at the captain, who shrugged. "He can join Sykes in the brig."
They left the two men languishing in the iron cages below decks, and while half the men went back to Tortuga to find their crewmates, the others sorted the bags of loot that had been taken and put them back in the hold.
But a more sombre task still awaited them. Jack followed Captain Flint up to the helm, and watched as the captain bent over Roberto's body.
"I'm sorry, sir," Jack said, gazing down at the lifeless shape of the Italian.
"People die, lad," the captain returned, turning Roberto over. Jack saw a bloody slash across the mate's throat, and a pool of congealing blood on the decking. "Ye know that. Being a pirate is a dangerous business." He straightened.
"Aye, I know that," Jack said. "But, cap'n, he wasn't killed in battle. He was asleep. Cold blood, that is."
"And they'll pay for it, never you fear," Flint said grimly.
The next day, once all the crew were back on board (some more sober than others), the Black Pearl sailed again. She took a course back out towards open ocean, Flint guiding her unerringly past shoals and rocks. Jack, watching for unseen obstacles from the bowsprit, saw after a few hours of sailing that there was a small island ahead of them - more a sparsely vegetated rock, in fact, than a true island. There was no other land within sight. The captain called for the anchor to be lowered, and ordered the captives on deck.
The crew were tense and silent as they waited to hear the sentence on the two men. They knew the code - treason was a heinous crime, and deserved the worst punishment.
Captain Flint drew his cutlass, a wickedly edged blade from the East.
"Robert Sykes, you stand here accused of desire to steal from the Black Pearl, and of conspiring against ship, captain and crew. You also stand accused of the murder of Roberto Verdano, first mate of this ship. How do you plead?"
"Guilty," Sykes spat out. Flint nodded, and turned to the strange Creole.
"You also stand accused of conspiring to steal, and of the murder of Roberto Verdano. How do you plead?" The Creole said nothing, but stared at the captain with hard eyes. Flint turned to the crew. "Do any here have evidence that this man is guilty?"
All eyes went to Jack, who nodded. "Aye, sir, I do. I heard him talking, last evening; and I heard 'em kill Roberto."
"Thank you, lad," Flint said. He faced the captives once more. "You are found guilty, and I condemn you to being marooned on that island. You will now walk the plank. Thornton, lower the plank."
"Aye, cap'n." Thornton, his face grim, slotted the thin plank of wood into place so that it jutted out over the blue waters.
"Do we not get a pistol?" Sykes asked.
"Your behaviour has not earned that," the captain returned. "Starve to death - it's a peculiarly apt end for a cook." He gave Sykes a push on to the plank. "Get on wi' ye."
Sykes held out his bound wrists, and with a snarl Flint cut the ropes. The cook grinned, and stepped out.
"Good luck to you all," he said, and stared hard at Jack. "You too, lad. Too clever fer yer own good."
Then he jumped, and came up gasping and floundering in the water before making some splashing effort in the direction of the islet.
The silent Creole said nothing as he followed Sykes into the water. All the pirates rushed to the side to watch as he surfaced, swam a few easy strokes to Sykes and grasped him around the chest before setting off to the islet.
"Trust us to maroon someone who can swim," Thornton said bitterly, as the two shapes disappeared towards the island.
Flint turned away from the water. "Let that be a lesson to all o' you. Weigh anchor. Hands to the mainsheets - we're going back to Tortuga."
----
TBC