Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: In answer to Kayden's review - this story will go at least as far as Jack assuming the captaincy of the Pearl. At this stage, I can't be more precise than that.
In the mid 1600s, the town now known as Casablanca was in Portuguese control and called Casa Branca. The Portuguese also had other colonies on the West African coast, with other parts of the continent controlled by the Dutch, the French and the British. At least this is what I've been able to find out - if anyone has more precise historical knowledge regarding this period, I'd be thrilled to hear it.
The information about kohl, and how to apply it, was gained from the following website: bdancer.com/ med-guide/ suppl/ makeup.ht ml. Close the gaps and add a triple w at the beginning - ff.net strips everything else. Kohl was apparently used by men and women in the desert to reduce the glare of the sun, and it stands to reason that it'd be equally effective at sea.
Now, all aboard and on with the show!
----
"The town's Portuguese," Flint said. "So don't cause any upset, right? You've five hours shore leave while we take on supplies, and then we're heading south."
"What's wrong with the Portuguese?" Jack asked, leaning on the rail.
"Don't take kindly to the British," the captain returned shortly.
"But we're not British, are we?" Jack pressed. "Not strictly, exactly, on account of our mixed nations."
"Ye're English," O'Connell pointed out. "And ye're wastin' your leave, Jack. Get on wi' ye."
"Aye, sir!" Jack doffed his hat smartly, put it back on, and walked briskly down the gangplank on to Moroccan soil.
Casa Branca was the first landfall the Black Pearl had made since they left Tortuga some seven weeks before. It had been a quiet crossing, with a few relatively simple attacks on some small merchant ships. Flint had not wanted to take on too much cargo, as he planned to target the richer vessels plying the waters of the Indian Ocean.
Jack spent most of the voyage teaching the new cabin boy, André, the ropes. He proved an adept pupil, quick to learn and relatively fearless. However he refused to say much about where he had come from, and he guarded his privacy fiercely, what there was of it aboard ship. The crew had tried drawing him out, but to no avail.
André had been left behind now, as Jack hurried to catch the other men up. It was hot and sunny, and he had left his coat on board. Around them, men dressed in long white robes hurried past, casting brief looks at the scruffy pirates.
"Anyone know where we're off to?" Elias Carpenter, a seasoned member of the crew, asked. "Anyone been here afore?"
"I think we follow the people," the Frenchman Joffo suggested, gesturing at the steady stream heading out of the harbour area and into the town centre.
"Yeah, but what're we lookin' for?" Carpenter persisted. "Vittles? Drink?"
"This doesn't look like the sort o' place that does drink," Jack observed, glancing up at the solid walls of the Portuguese fortress that dominated the town. "Too many soldiers, savvy?"
"Soldiers need to drink, lad," Thornton said.
They bickered amiably over the subject all the way into the busy market in the town centre, which Joffo said knowledgeably was called a "souk". There they found a sort of inn selling bowls of a spicy stew and coarse red wine, which all the men agreed was a sight better than the rotten meat and fermenting porridge they had been eating on board ship for the last few weeks.
Afterwards, some of the crew announced they were going to stay where they were, while the rest of them stepped out into the street. Jack hooked his thumbs into his belt, and strolled off towards the market.
It was full of noise and interesting, unusual smells, unlike anything Jack had experienced before. The people bustling around were mainly men, the few women clad in robes covering their bodies, a heavy veil on their heads. In his loose shirt, breeches and gaudy sash, Jack stood out.
He wandered along, examining the stalls from a slight distance. First came food - exotic vegetables and fruit, grains and pulses, and wooden tubs filled with mounds of coloured spices. The pirate in Jack Sparrow wondered how much the goods were worth; the man breathed in the pungent scents and wondered what they tasted like.
Further along, another stall held more wooden tubs with different powders, as well as flasks containing various liquids. These did not look like spices, and Jack was intrigued enough to go a little closer and examine them.
The old woman squatting on the ground behind the stall said something from behind her black veil, and Jack spread his hands to show incomprehension. She reached out and touched his beaded braids with wrinkled fingers, and seemed to laugh, before scooping up a small amount of a black powder in a little wooden scoop and holding it out.
Jack bent, and sniffed, and discovered that the powder was almost odourless. He shrugged at the old woman, who laughed again and let it fall back into the tub before picking up a small wooden stick and dabbing it into the substance. Frowning at her, Jack watched, and stepped back in alarm when she stood up and leaned forward.
She cackled again, and shook her head at him before grasping his arm and pulling him to her. Her strength was impressive, and despite his efforts to extricate himself she swept the stick beneath his left eye.
"Ow!" Jack said. "Look, mistress, I know you don't understand me, but that's not a polite thing to do."
She had let go of his arm and was holding up a round mirror now, shining dully in the sunlight. Jack peered into it, wondering what on earth had been done to him, and blinked.
He took the mirror from the woman, and covered the right side of his face with his hand before looking again. He turned his head from side to side, and slowly a grin spread across his face.
"Now that," said Jack, "isn't half bad."
The old woman took the mirror from him, and this time he allowed her to spread powder below his other eye before he looked again. He nodded, pleased.
She pantomimed being on the sea, and shaded her eyes as if the sun was glaring down into them, and then pointed at the powder, running her fingers underneath her eyes, and looking upwards once more.
Jack considered her actions for a moment, and realised what she was telling him. The new dark shadows underneath his eyes would help reduce the glare of the water. He smiled, and nodded at the old woman, who picked up a small leather bag and scooped some of the powder into it. She pressed the bag into Jack's hands together with the wooden stick.
He felt in his pockets and found some silver pennies, and passed them over. "Thank you," he said, and gave the old woman a bow. She cackled her strange laugh again, and Jack shook his head in amusement before wandering onwards.
Back on the ship, the crew found his new embellishment hilarious.
"Makes your eyes look right big," Thornton commented, sniffing the powder.
"It's called kohl," Joffo offered, a tiny bit of the powder on his fingertip. "I have seen it before, en Afrique."
André, watching from the rail, said: "I think it looks good."
"Must say it's ... it's you, somehow," Carpenter said, scratching his head. "Goes with the trinkets."
"Pirates are supposed to be plain folk," O'Connell put in. "In case of gettin' caught, ye know?"
"I don't plan on getting caught," said Jack. "I'm Jack Sparrow - savvy?"
They laughed, and cuffed him good-naturedly around the head.
Joking aside, though, Jack found that the kohl did help reduce the light off the sea, and soon it became second nature to reapply the powder in the morning. It proved remarkably resistant to the sea-spray too, as the Black Pearl sailed south along the African coast. These were Portuguese waters, patrolled by their naval ships, and Flint did nothing to aggravate the few that they saw.
So the days passed, with the watches rotating. They mended sails and trimmed ropes, scrubbed the deck every day, and practised fighting. The cabin boy André got better at climbing the rigging, and, just like Jack used to do, spent hours practising tying knots.
He was sitting in a corner on deck one day concentrating fiercely over a thin piece of rope when Jack resolved to try again at livening the lad up a little. He crossed to the boy and settled down beside him.
"How're they going?"
André pulled the ends of the rope. "All right."
"How're you going?" Jack persisted.
"All right."
"I believe you're the most talkative person on board," Jack said, resting his head against the rail. André looked at him as if he were mad.
"Me? No, you."
"Ah, that was what you'd call sarcasm, you see," Jack said. "Seeing as how you're certainly the least talkative on board." He tilted his hat back. "And I reckon you've a rare tongue in your head, if you chose to use it."
"You do?"
"Them as have 'em, know 'em when they see 'em in other people," Jack nodded.
André shook his head. "I think you're mad, Jack."
"No, see," Jack said, "when I was your age and came to the Pearl, it was because I'd got like you. Wasn't able to talk because my old man gave me a hiding. I left to become meself. To get some freedom." He ran his hand over the smooth planks of the deck. "And I found it."
The cabin boy twisted the rope between his fingers. "I wanted freedom also."
"Well?"
"And so can't I be free to keep my own secrets?" André said, something flashing in his eyes.
Jack grinned. "That's more like it. Show some spirit. A pirate has to have life in him, fire to keep him going. Take what ye can and give nothing back."
André returned his smile. "Take what I can?"
"And give nothing back," Jack repeated. "Pirate's code, lad. We pull together as a team, but if the team breaks up it's one for one. You look after yourself, savvy? We're not lasses that need someone carin' for them all hours of the day."
At this, André nodded sharply. "I don't need anyone to care for me," he said.
"Ship needs care, though," O'Connell said, crossing to them. "How're those knots comin' on, André?"
"Good, sir," the boy said, looking up. The Irishman offered a brief smile.
"Jack, Cap'n wants the mainsail trimmin' a little. Ye don't seem busy."
Jack slipped his boots off, the better to climb the rigging, and sprang to his feet. "I'm not."
"Off ye go, then," O'Connell said, and Jack gave him a mock salute before heading off into the shrouds. From below, André watched him with rapt attention, before the mate cuffed him gently round the head. "Cook wants some help, lad, filletin' fish."
André cast a last look upwards, and disappeared into the galley. From his spot halfway up the main mast, Jack paused in tying quick knots and frowned to himself. There was something strange about the cabin boy, and he was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery.
----
TBC: but it might be a while as I'm going away. I'll write, but I won't be able to upload for a week or so.
Author's note: In answer to Kayden's review - this story will go at least as far as Jack assuming the captaincy of the Pearl. At this stage, I can't be more precise than that.
In the mid 1600s, the town now known as Casablanca was in Portuguese control and called Casa Branca. The Portuguese also had other colonies on the West African coast, with other parts of the continent controlled by the Dutch, the French and the British. At least this is what I've been able to find out - if anyone has more precise historical knowledge regarding this period, I'd be thrilled to hear it.
The information about kohl, and how to apply it, was gained from the following website: bdancer.com/ med-guide/ suppl/ makeup.ht ml. Close the gaps and add a triple w at the beginning - ff.net strips everything else. Kohl was apparently used by men and women in the desert to reduce the glare of the sun, and it stands to reason that it'd be equally effective at sea.
Now, all aboard and on with the show!
----
"The town's Portuguese," Flint said. "So don't cause any upset, right? You've five hours shore leave while we take on supplies, and then we're heading south."
"What's wrong with the Portuguese?" Jack asked, leaning on the rail.
"Don't take kindly to the British," the captain returned shortly.
"But we're not British, are we?" Jack pressed. "Not strictly, exactly, on account of our mixed nations."
"Ye're English," O'Connell pointed out. "And ye're wastin' your leave, Jack. Get on wi' ye."
"Aye, sir!" Jack doffed his hat smartly, put it back on, and walked briskly down the gangplank on to Moroccan soil.
Casa Branca was the first landfall the Black Pearl had made since they left Tortuga some seven weeks before. It had been a quiet crossing, with a few relatively simple attacks on some small merchant ships. Flint had not wanted to take on too much cargo, as he planned to target the richer vessels plying the waters of the Indian Ocean.
Jack spent most of the voyage teaching the new cabin boy, André, the ropes. He proved an adept pupil, quick to learn and relatively fearless. However he refused to say much about where he had come from, and he guarded his privacy fiercely, what there was of it aboard ship. The crew had tried drawing him out, but to no avail.
André had been left behind now, as Jack hurried to catch the other men up. It was hot and sunny, and he had left his coat on board. Around them, men dressed in long white robes hurried past, casting brief looks at the scruffy pirates.
"Anyone know where we're off to?" Elias Carpenter, a seasoned member of the crew, asked. "Anyone been here afore?"
"I think we follow the people," the Frenchman Joffo suggested, gesturing at the steady stream heading out of the harbour area and into the town centre.
"Yeah, but what're we lookin' for?" Carpenter persisted. "Vittles? Drink?"
"This doesn't look like the sort o' place that does drink," Jack observed, glancing up at the solid walls of the Portuguese fortress that dominated the town. "Too many soldiers, savvy?"
"Soldiers need to drink, lad," Thornton said.
They bickered amiably over the subject all the way into the busy market in the town centre, which Joffo said knowledgeably was called a "souk". There they found a sort of inn selling bowls of a spicy stew and coarse red wine, which all the men agreed was a sight better than the rotten meat and fermenting porridge they had been eating on board ship for the last few weeks.
Afterwards, some of the crew announced they were going to stay where they were, while the rest of them stepped out into the street. Jack hooked his thumbs into his belt, and strolled off towards the market.
It was full of noise and interesting, unusual smells, unlike anything Jack had experienced before. The people bustling around were mainly men, the few women clad in robes covering their bodies, a heavy veil on their heads. In his loose shirt, breeches and gaudy sash, Jack stood out.
He wandered along, examining the stalls from a slight distance. First came food - exotic vegetables and fruit, grains and pulses, and wooden tubs filled with mounds of coloured spices. The pirate in Jack Sparrow wondered how much the goods were worth; the man breathed in the pungent scents and wondered what they tasted like.
Further along, another stall held more wooden tubs with different powders, as well as flasks containing various liquids. These did not look like spices, and Jack was intrigued enough to go a little closer and examine them.
The old woman squatting on the ground behind the stall said something from behind her black veil, and Jack spread his hands to show incomprehension. She reached out and touched his beaded braids with wrinkled fingers, and seemed to laugh, before scooping up a small amount of a black powder in a little wooden scoop and holding it out.
Jack bent, and sniffed, and discovered that the powder was almost odourless. He shrugged at the old woman, who laughed again and let it fall back into the tub before picking up a small wooden stick and dabbing it into the substance. Frowning at her, Jack watched, and stepped back in alarm when she stood up and leaned forward.
She cackled again, and shook her head at him before grasping his arm and pulling him to her. Her strength was impressive, and despite his efforts to extricate himself she swept the stick beneath his left eye.
"Ow!" Jack said. "Look, mistress, I know you don't understand me, but that's not a polite thing to do."
She had let go of his arm and was holding up a round mirror now, shining dully in the sunlight. Jack peered into it, wondering what on earth had been done to him, and blinked.
He took the mirror from the woman, and covered the right side of his face with his hand before looking again. He turned his head from side to side, and slowly a grin spread across his face.
"Now that," said Jack, "isn't half bad."
The old woman took the mirror from him, and this time he allowed her to spread powder below his other eye before he looked again. He nodded, pleased.
She pantomimed being on the sea, and shaded her eyes as if the sun was glaring down into them, and then pointed at the powder, running her fingers underneath her eyes, and looking upwards once more.
Jack considered her actions for a moment, and realised what she was telling him. The new dark shadows underneath his eyes would help reduce the glare of the water. He smiled, and nodded at the old woman, who picked up a small leather bag and scooped some of the powder into it. She pressed the bag into Jack's hands together with the wooden stick.
He felt in his pockets and found some silver pennies, and passed them over. "Thank you," he said, and gave the old woman a bow. She cackled her strange laugh again, and Jack shook his head in amusement before wandering onwards.
Back on the ship, the crew found his new embellishment hilarious.
"Makes your eyes look right big," Thornton commented, sniffing the powder.
"It's called kohl," Joffo offered, a tiny bit of the powder on his fingertip. "I have seen it before, en Afrique."
André, watching from the rail, said: "I think it looks good."
"Must say it's ... it's you, somehow," Carpenter said, scratching his head. "Goes with the trinkets."
"Pirates are supposed to be plain folk," O'Connell put in. "In case of gettin' caught, ye know?"
"I don't plan on getting caught," said Jack. "I'm Jack Sparrow - savvy?"
They laughed, and cuffed him good-naturedly around the head.
Joking aside, though, Jack found that the kohl did help reduce the light off the sea, and soon it became second nature to reapply the powder in the morning. It proved remarkably resistant to the sea-spray too, as the Black Pearl sailed south along the African coast. These were Portuguese waters, patrolled by their naval ships, and Flint did nothing to aggravate the few that they saw.
So the days passed, with the watches rotating. They mended sails and trimmed ropes, scrubbed the deck every day, and practised fighting. The cabin boy André got better at climbing the rigging, and, just like Jack used to do, spent hours practising tying knots.
He was sitting in a corner on deck one day concentrating fiercely over a thin piece of rope when Jack resolved to try again at livening the lad up a little. He crossed to the boy and settled down beside him.
"How're they going?"
André pulled the ends of the rope. "All right."
"How're you going?" Jack persisted.
"All right."
"I believe you're the most talkative person on board," Jack said, resting his head against the rail. André looked at him as if he were mad.
"Me? No, you."
"Ah, that was what you'd call sarcasm, you see," Jack said. "Seeing as how you're certainly the least talkative on board." He tilted his hat back. "And I reckon you've a rare tongue in your head, if you chose to use it."
"You do?"
"Them as have 'em, know 'em when they see 'em in other people," Jack nodded.
André shook his head. "I think you're mad, Jack."
"No, see," Jack said, "when I was your age and came to the Pearl, it was because I'd got like you. Wasn't able to talk because my old man gave me a hiding. I left to become meself. To get some freedom." He ran his hand over the smooth planks of the deck. "And I found it."
The cabin boy twisted the rope between his fingers. "I wanted freedom also."
"Well?"
"And so can't I be free to keep my own secrets?" André said, something flashing in his eyes.
Jack grinned. "That's more like it. Show some spirit. A pirate has to have life in him, fire to keep him going. Take what ye can and give nothing back."
André returned his smile. "Take what I can?"
"And give nothing back," Jack repeated. "Pirate's code, lad. We pull together as a team, but if the team breaks up it's one for one. You look after yourself, savvy? We're not lasses that need someone carin' for them all hours of the day."
At this, André nodded sharply. "I don't need anyone to care for me," he said.
"Ship needs care, though," O'Connell said, crossing to them. "How're those knots comin' on, André?"
"Good, sir," the boy said, looking up. The Irishman offered a brief smile.
"Jack, Cap'n wants the mainsail trimmin' a little. Ye don't seem busy."
Jack slipped his boots off, the better to climb the rigging, and sprang to his feet. "I'm not."
"Off ye go, then," O'Connell said, and Jack gave him a mock salute before heading off into the shrouds. From below, André watched him with rapt attention, before the mate cuffed him gently round the head. "Cook wants some help, lad, filletin' fish."
André cast a last look upwards, and disappeared into the galley. From his spot halfway up the main mast, Jack paused in tying quick knots and frowned to himself. There was something strange about the cabin boy, and he was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery.
----
TBC: but it might be a while as I'm going away. I'll write, but I won't be able to upload for a week or so.