Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: Ahoy there, me hearties! Back from my holiday, and here's the first of the two chapters I finished writing and typing up - they're both long ones, I hope you approve. As ever, comments and critique very much appreciated.
----
The Black Pearl made good time until she reached the Cape of Good Hope, but the junction between two oceans lived up to its alternative name, Cabo Tormentoso, the Cape of Storms. The ship was tossed on giant waves and hammered by tropical rainstorms, and the crew battled to keep her from foundering on the treacherous rocks. Jack spent several cold, wet, dangerous hours tied to the masts, reefing sails as fast as he could go until all that was left were small squares of tight canvas.
Eventually, the storms abated and Captain Flint took stock of his ship's damage. They had lost one sail, and several others were ripped; lines were frayed; but the actual fabric of the ship seemed to be in good condition. The decision was made to press on to India.
A week after rounding the Cape, the pirates came upon their first merchant ship. Flying a Dutch flag, she was low in the water and moving slowly towards them. Captain Flint examined the vessel through his telescope and looked satisfied.
"She's carrying a good deal of cargo. We'll fire a round of cannon on her, close and board. Arm yourselves, men, and then starboard watch to the cannon and port watch to the sheets."
They ran to carry out his orders. Jack left his hat in his hammock and put his sword on, tucking his knife into his sash, before going to his post by the foremast. André was waiting by the stern with the piratical Jolly Roger ready to raise on Flint's command.
The Pearl closed. The captain swung the wheel round. "Raise the flag. Lower topsails!" he shouted, and O'Connell relayed the order.
"Lower topsails. Ready? Two, six, heave!"
They heaved, pulling together on the ropes, and the topsails started to drop. Men on the masts folded as the canvas came down, and the ship began to slow even as she turned.
"Fire a shot across her bows!" Flint called, and the order was passed down below decks. The cannon boomed, and the shot hit the water just before the bows of the Dutch ship.
Now the Black Pearl came alongside the Dutch vessel. Men on board the other ship had swords drawn; some of them had pistols and as the grappling irons were thrown and caught, a shot came whistling across the divide. Jack ducked and heard the shot graze the decking. Together with Joffo, he flung a plank across the gap, and drawing his sword crossed it nimbly.
The pirates fought to disarm rather than kill, binding their opponents' hands when they had knocked swords out of them. But injuries were sustained on both sides.
Jack fought his way past two sailors, aiming for a richly dressed merchant who was brandishing a thin rapier nervously.
"Leave my ship, pirate!" the merchant called in accented English, as Jack approached.
"Seems to me," Jack returned, darting the tip of his blade close to the merchant's face, "that you've misunderstood the word 'pirate', mate."
The merchant parried, badly, and Jack swept his sword up and flicked the merchant's weapon out of his hand, catching it as it fell towards the deck. He grinned, and gave the Dutchman a little bow. He tucked the captured blade under his arm, and began to strip the merchant of his jewellery and other valuables.
Half an hour later, the sailors were shut in the cargo hold - rather emptier now than before the Pearl's arrival. The group of merchants were bound hand and foot and had been tied together in a group around the mainmast. Captain Flint supervised the transfer of cargo from the merchant ship to the Black Pearl. They were taking ten large rolls of calico and silk as well as bags of spices; all valuable goods which would fetch a lot of money. The Dutchmen glared helplessly as the captain bowed his thanks and the pirates retreated, casting the captured vessel loose.
Aboard the Black Pearl there was much celebration. The captain ordered an extra ration of rum, and they moved their booty down to their own cargo hold. Jack settled down with some of the coins and beads he had taken from various merchants and began to add them to one of his braids.
He had chased one particularly fiddly yellow bead across the deck three times, and was scowling at it, when André came and sat cross-legged next to him.
"You are having problems," he commented.
"No, lad, I'm fine. Really." Jack tried again to thread the bead on to the thin plait, and failed. André held out his hand.
"Let me help."
Jack regarded the cabin boy quizzically for a moment, and then passed him the bead. André took it, and nimbly threaded it on to Jack's hair, tying the end off with a scrap of cotton.
"Can you do the others?" Jack asked, passing André his remaining trinkets.
Nodding, the boy knelt and quickly separated three strands of hair, twisting them together and attaching beads and coins.
"You're not bad at this," Jack said. André smiled.
"I used to help Maman with her hair."
Jack's eyes narrowed. "Funny sort o' thing for a lad to do."
There was a pause. André threaded the plait through a hole in a coin. Eventually he said: "You are the one with beads in his hair and painted eyes."
"I don't remember me mum," Jack returned. "Maybe it's a'cause of that."
"What, you want to be your mum?" Carpenter asked, coming over to them and flopping to the deck with his rum. "Always knew you were touched in the head, Jack."
Jack met Carpenter's gaze seriously. "Yes, Elias, I've always wanted to be my mother. I missed her that bad when I was young, and it's affected me deeply." He dabbed at his eyes and sniffed theatrically. "Anyway," he added, dropping the act, "look around you. We've all got swag from raids - I just choose to keep mine where I can't lose it."
He looked round to include André in his point, but the cabin boy had disappeared.
"Now where's he got to?" Jack wondered.
"Ah, ye're wasting your time, lad," Carpenter said, offering his rum. Jack took the bottle, swigged a gulp, and handed it back. "That boy'll ne'er make a pirate. Too quiet."
"I reckon he's hiding somethin'," Jack said. "It ain't natural for a lad his age to be that tight-lipped."
Carpenter laughed. "Sez the aged old man of what - sixteen, aren't you?"
"Ah, but me - I'm an old sixteen," Jack said. "That boy's a young whatever he is."
"Well," said Carpenter, "I still think you're wasting your time. 'Pon the other hand, I know you'll not give up trying to get him to talk."
"That I won't," Jack agreed.
And he did not. At every opportunity, Jack talked to André, and slowly the boy gave away pieces of his history. A childhood spent scraping a living from the soil, hard work in hot fields with his mother and, it seemed, a host of aunts. He never mentioned a father, and Jack did not press the issue. After all, he barely thought of his own father, save for occasional bouts of daydreaming. These usually involved him returning to Portsmouth as the master of his own vessel, rich and popular, and magnanimously offering his father something. The daydreams were never specific as to what, exactly, to offer the elder Sparrow, apart from a healthy dose of words. In any case, Jack felt that he could empathise with whatever ill-feeling the cabin boy bore for his absent parent. Instead he concentrated on getting André to explain why he had chosen to join the Pearl. Little by little, the two struck up a kind of uneven camaraderie, with Jack playing the role of mentor and talker, and André that of listener and pupil.
They continued sailing the ocean, attacking whatever vessel they came upon. The usual injuries and damage were sustained, but nothing serious enough to make Captain Flint decide to head for land. Supplies were found on each ship that fell victim to the pirates - sometimes fresh produce, more often dried meat or fish, or grains, together with barrels of water, rum and wine. The weather held fair and warm, and when the wind was low the captain was content to let the Black Pearl drift for a day or so before ordering the great sweeps to be unshipped.
Eventually, however, the lookout called a lusty "Land ho!" from the crow's nest, and the crew rushed to the side of the ship to catch their first glimpse of shoreline for many weeks. The captain's telescope was passed around and the men took it in turns to examine the coast of India for themselves.
"Not bad," Jack decided, after his turn with the telescope. "Where's that cabin boy? I reckon he should have a look at this." He glanced around, expecting André to be with the rest of the crew, but the lad was nowhere in sight. Jack gave the telescope to Joffo, and went to find the younger boy.
He was not on deck, and neither, it seemed, was he in the sleeping quarters. Jack slipped down the ladder into the hold. "Oy there, André!" he called. "We've land in sight - don't you want to see it?"
There was silence. Jack frowned to himself, and set off to explore the darkness of the hold. Every now and then he paused to listen, and after a short while he heard a distinct sniff. He nodded, grinned to himself and went in the direction of the sniff.
André had curled himself behind a barrel, a rolled-up wedge of material clutched to his chest.
"There you are," Jack said.
In the dim light, the cabin boy's eyes were large and round with tears. "Go 'way," he said.
"There's land," Jack said. "But if you don't want to see it, suit yourself. Captain might want you for something, though."
"I can't come." The voice was small.
Jack folded his arms, and sat down on a handy roll of calico. "Why not?"
"I ... I just ... I cannot come," André said.
"No such word as 'can't', mate," Jack said. "It's a word for landlubbers, that, not for pirates - savvy?"
"I don't think I can be a pirate."
Jack opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again on second thoughts. He waited. André sniffed again, and wiped his face with the end of his sleeve.
"Girls aren't normally pirates," he said, after a pause.
"Not usually, no," Jack agreed. "Wait ... hang on, there, André ..."
Another sniff. "Anamaria."
For perhaps the first time since joining the Black Pearl, Jack Sparrow was speechless. He sat in the darkness of the hold and considered the cabin boy's words. Then he recalled his - no, her - hesitation when originally asked her name; her skill at braiding hair; and her fond memories of her mother.
"You've led us a merry dance," he said, eventually. "Can't say as the captain'll be best pleased. Why wait until now to tell us?"
"I was not going to tell you at all!" Anamaria snapped, a catch still in her voice. "But ... but I ... it's the moon curse, if you must know."
Jack ran this through his mind, and found vague memories of the men discussing this strange female condition, usually in connection with a woman they had been unable to bed. "Oh," he said.
"I hoped to hide it," she went on, her former silence broken with a wave of words, "but I do not think I can."
"Terrible bad luck to have a woman on board ship," Jack said. "Even a miniature one."
"Why?" Anamaria returned, heatedly. "We have had good luck so far. Look at this." She waved her arm, dingy white cotton in the darkness.
"It's pitch black, love," Jack said reasonably. "Can't see a bleedin' thing, can I? Look, I'll have to tell the captain. You can't stay down here, and I suppose you need ... something ... for the curse, right? Some o' the men have wives, they might help."
"I don't want to tell anyone," Anamaria insisted.
"To my mind, that's really rather stupid," Jack said, shrugging. "I reckon old Flint'll be better pleased if you tell him yourself, come clean; and I can't see him putting you off ship here. He's a good man."
"He's a pirate."
"We're all pirates, love," said Jack. "He's a good pirate, and a good man. Come on." He held out his hand to Anamaria, and after another pause she took it. He squeezed. "'Sides, you should see the coast. Sight for sore eyes, that."
He stood up, and the cabin boy who was really a cabin girl followed him.
Author's note: Ahoy there, me hearties! Back from my holiday, and here's the first of the two chapters I finished writing and typing up - they're both long ones, I hope you approve. As ever, comments and critique very much appreciated.
----
The Black Pearl made good time until she reached the Cape of Good Hope, but the junction between two oceans lived up to its alternative name, Cabo Tormentoso, the Cape of Storms. The ship was tossed on giant waves and hammered by tropical rainstorms, and the crew battled to keep her from foundering on the treacherous rocks. Jack spent several cold, wet, dangerous hours tied to the masts, reefing sails as fast as he could go until all that was left were small squares of tight canvas.
Eventually, the storms abated and Captain Flint took stock of his ship's damage. They had lost one sail, and several others were ripped; lines were frayed; but the actual fabric of the ship seemed to be in good condition. The decision was made to press on to India.
A week after rounding the Cape, the pirates came upon their first merchant ship. Flying a Dutch flag, she was low in the water and moving slowly towards them. Captain Flint examined the vessel through his telescope and looked satisfied.
"She's carrying a good deal of cargo. We'll fire a round of cannon on her, close and board. Arm yourselves, men, and then starboard watch to the cannon and port watch to the sheets."
They ran to carry out his orders. Jack left his hat in his hammock and put his sword on, tucking his knife into his sash, before going to his post by the foremast. André was waiting by the stern with the piratical Jolly Roger ready to raise on Flint's command.
The Pearl closed. The captain swung the wheel round. "Raise the flag. Lower topsails!" he shouted, and O'Connell relayed the order.
"Lower topsails. Ready? Two, six, heave!"
They heaved, pulling together on the ropes, and the topsails started to drop. Men on the masts folded as the canvas came down, and the ship began to slow even as she turned.
"Fire a shot across her bows!" Flint called, and the order was passed down below decks. The cannon boomed, and the shot hit the water just before the bows of the Dutch ship.
Now the Black Pearl came alongside the Dutch vessel. Men on board the other ship had swords drawn; some of them had pistols and as the grappling irons were thrown and caught, a shot came whistling across the divide. Jack ducked and heard the shot graze the decking. Together with Joffo, he flung a plank across the gap, and drawing his sword crossed it nimbly.
The pirates fought to disarm rather than kill, binding their opponents' hands when they had knocked swords out of them. But injuries were sustained on both sides.
Jack fought his way past two sailors, aiming for a richly dressed merchant who was brandishing a thin rapier nervously.
"Leave my ship, pirate!" the merchant called in accented English, as Jack approached.
"Seems to me," Jack returned, darting the tip of his blade close to the merchant's face, "that you've misunderstood the word 'pirate', mate."
The merchant parried, badly, and Jack swept his sword up and flicked the merchant's weapon out of his hand, catching it as it fell towards the deck. He grinned, and gave the Dutchman a little bow. He tucked the captured blade under his arm, and began to strip the merchant of his jewellery and other valuables.
Half an hour later, the sailors were shut in the cargo hold - rather emptier now than before the Pearl's arrival. The group of merchants were bound hand and foot and had been tied together in a group around the mainmast. Captain Flint supervised the transfer of cargo from the merchant ship to the Black Pearl. They were taking ten large rolls of calico and silk as well as bags of spices; all valuable goods which would fetch a lot of money. The Dutchmen glared helplessly as the captain bowed his thanks and the pirates retreated, casting the captured vessel loose.
Aboard the Black Pearl there was much celebration. The captain ordered an extra ration of rum, and they moved their booty down to their own cargo hold. Jack settled down with some of the coins and beads he had taken from various merchants and began to add them to one of his braids.
He had chased one particularly fiddly yellow bead across the deck three times, and was scowling at it, when André came and sat cross-legged next to him.
"You are having problems," he commented.
"No, lad, I'm fine. Really." Jack tried again to thread the bead on to the thin plait, and failed. André held out his hand.
"Let me help."
Jack regarded the cabin boy quizzically for a moment, and then passed him the bead. André took it, and nimbly threaded it on to Jack's hair, tying the end off with a scrap of cotton.
"Can you do the others?" Jack asked, passing André his remaining trinkets.
Nodding, the boy knelt and quickly separated three strands of hair, twisting them together and attaching beads and coins.
"You're not bad at this," Jack said. André smiled.
"I used to help Maman with her hair."
Jack's eyes narrowed. "Funny sort o' thing for a lad to do."
There was a pause. André threaded the plait through a hole in a coin. Eventually he said: "You are the one with beads in his hair and painted eyes."
"I don't remember me mum," Jack returned. "Maybe it's a'cause of that."
"What, you want to be your mum?" Carpenter asked, coming over to them and flopping to the deck with his rum. "Always knew you were touched in the head, Jack."
Jack met Carpenter's gaze seriously. "Yes, Elias, I've always wanted to be my mother. I missed her that bad when I was young, and it's affected me deeply." He dabbed at his eyes and sniffed theatrically. "Anyway," he added, dropping the act, "look around you. We've all got swag from raids - I just choose to keep mine where I can't lose it."
He looked round to include André in his point, but the cabin boy had disappeared.
"Now where's he got to?" Jack wondered.
"Ah, ye're wasting your time, lad," Carpenter said, offering his rum. Jack took the bottle, swigged a gulp, and handed it back. "That boy'll ne'er make a pirate. Too quiet."
"I reckon he's hiding somethin'," Jack said. "It ain't natural for a lad his age to be that tight-lipped."
Carpenter laughed. "Sez the aged old man of what - sixteen, aren't you?"
"Ah, but me - I'm an old sixteen," Jack said. "That boy's a young whatever he is."
"Well," said Carpenter, "I still think you're wasting your time. 'Pon the other hand, I know you'll not give up trying to get him to talk."
"That I won't," Jack agreed.
And he did not. At every opportunity, Jack talked to André, and slowly the boy gave away pieces of his history. A childhood spent scraping a living from the soil, hard work in hot fields with his mother and, it seemed, a host of aunts. He never mentioned a father, and Jack did not press the issue. After all, he barely thought of his own father, save for occasional bouts of daydreaming. These usually involved him returning to Portsmouth as the master of his own vessel, rich and popular, and magnanimously offering his father something. The daydreams were never specific as to what, exactly, to offer the elder Sparrow, apart from a healthy dose of words. In any case, Jack felt that he could empathise with whatever ill-feeling the cabin boy bore for his absent parent. Instead he concentrated on getting André to explain why he had chosen to join the Pearl. Little by little, the two struck up a kind of uneven camaraderie, with Jack playing the role of mentor and talker, and André that of listener and pupil.
They continued sailing the ocean, attacking whatever vessel they came upon. The usual injuries and damage were sustained, but nothing serious enough to make Captain Flint decide to head for land. Supplies were found on each ship that fell victim to the pirates - sometimes fresh produce, more often dried meat or fish, or grains, together with barrels of water, rum and wine. The weather held fair and warm, and when the wind was low the captain was content to let the Black Pearl drift for a day or so before ordering the great sweeps to be unshipped.
Eventually, however, the lookout called a lusty "Land ho!" from the crow's nest, and the crew rushed to the side of the ship to catch their first glimpse of shoreline for many weeks. The captain's telescope was passed around and the men took it in turns to examine the coast of India for themselves.
"Not bad," Jack decided, after his turn with the telescope. "Where's that cabin boy? I reckon he should have a look at this." He glanced around, expecting André to be with the rest of the crew, but the lad was nowhere in sight. Jack gave the telescope to Joffo, and went to find the younger boy.
He was not on deck, and neither, it seemed, was he in the sleeping quarters. Jack slipped down the ladder into the hold. "Oy there, André!" he called. "We've land in sight - don't you want to see it?"
There was silence. Jack frowned to himself, and set off to explore the darkness of the hold. Every now and then he paused to listen, and after a short while he heard a distinct sniff. He nodded, grinned to himself and went in the direction of the sniff.
André had curled himself behind a barrel, a rolled-up wedge of material clutched to his chest.
"There you are," Jack said.
In the dim light, the cabin boy's eyes were large and round with tears. "Go 'way," he said.
"There's land," Jack said. "But if you don't want to see it, suit yourself. Captain might want you for something, though."
"I can't come." The voice was small.
Jack folded his arms, and sat down on a handy roll of calico. "Why not?"
"I ... I just ... I cannot come," André said.
"No such word as 'can't', mate," Jack said. "It's a word for landlubbers, that, not for pirates - savvy?"
"I don't think I can be a pirate."
Jack opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again on second thoughts. He waited. André sniffed again, and wiped his face with the end of his sleeve.
"Girls aren't normally pirates," he said, after a pause.
"Not usually, no," Jack agreed. "Wait ... hang on, there, André ..."
Another sniff. "Anamaria."
For perhaps the first time since joining the Black Pearl, Jack Sparrow was speechless. He sat in the darkness of the hold and considered the cabin boy's words. Then he recalled his - no, her - hesitation when originally asked her name; her skill at braiding hair; and her fond memories of her mother.
"You've led us a merry dance," he said, eventually. "Can't say as the captain'll be best pleased. Why wait until now to tell us?"
"I was not going to tell you at all!" Anamaria snapped, a catch still in her voice. "But ... but I ... it's the moon curse, if you must know."
Jack ran this through his mind, and found vague memories of the men discussing this strange female condition, usually in connection with a woman they had been unable to bed. "Oh," he said.
"I hoped to hide it," she went on, her former silence broken with a wave of words, "but I do not think I can."
"Terrible bad luck to have a woman on board ship," Jack said. "Even a miniature one."
"Why?" Anamaria returned, heatedly. "We have had good luck so far. Look at this." She waved her arm, dingy white cotton in the darkness.
"It's pitch black, love," Jack said reasonably. "Can't see a bleedin' thing, can I? Look, I'll have to tell the captain. You can't stay down here, and I suppose you need ... something ... for the curse, right? Some o' the men have wives, they might help."
"I don't want to tell anyone," Anamaria insisted.
"To my mind, that's really rather stupid," Jack said, shrugging. "I reckon old Flint'll be better pleased if you tell him yourself, come clean; and I can't see him putting you off ship here. He's a good man."
"He's a pirate."
"We're all pirates, love," said Jack. "He's a good pirate, and a good man. Come on." He held out his hand to Anamaria, and after another pause she took it. He squeezed. "'Sides, you should see the coast. Sight for sore eyes, that."
He stood up, and the cabin boy who was really a cabin girl followed him.