Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: Zwarte Perel asked for an update on the chronology of the piece. So: it's now 1663, Jack is 19 going on 20, and Anamaria thinks she's about 14. Back in England, Elsie Turner's just discovered she's pregnant, and the local midwife is making predictions that it's a boy. Hope that helps!
----
It was a clear, hot day when the Black Pearl limped into Tortuga harbour. The voyage across the Atlantic had been long and arduous, the ship wracked by storms. She had come the last few hundred miles under very little canvas, after several sails had been ripped to shreds in the wind. It was with a sigh of devout relief that Captain Flint ordered the anchor to be lowered in the shelter of the bay.
"Home again!" said Anamaria, gladly, as she secured a shroud with an efficient knot.
"Land!" said Carpenter, by her side.
Jack stuck his fingers in his sash. "Only Tortuga."
"Someone should have been born a fish," Anamaria observed.
"Going to have to get used to land, lad," Thornton said, crossing to them. "Captain wants her hauled out for repairs."
"What?" Jack stared. "Take the Pearl out of the water?"
"Come now, you've been a sailor long enough to know what 'hauled out' means," Thornton remonstrated.
"I know what it means," Jack said. "What I don't like is how it sounds. How long?"
"Got to talk to a shipwright, negotiate a price," Thornton said. "Could be a few weeks. Could be a few months."
Jack looked aghast, his kohl-rimmed eyes even larger than usual. "Months?! But what do we do?"
"Have a rest?" Carpenter suggested. "Bit o' time ashore, use some of that tidy profit we've made?"
"Ashore?!" Jack threw his hands up in the air. "Ashore's for a few nights, here 'n' there. Not for months!"
The others exchanged glances, and Anamaria folded her arms and faced her friend.
"Jack, don't be ridiculous. You cannot spend the rest of your life afloat."
"Why not?" Jack returned her stare, hands now resting on his hips. "Why not, Ana? Apart from the odd foray ashore for food, and ..." he caught her look, and changed what he was going to say, "and to trade, I would be blissfully happy if I never saw a single piece of land. Where's there's land, there's people, and where there's people, there's trouble - savvy? Mark me words."
"Consider them marked," Thornton said. "But it won't be for a day or so, lad. You'll have a few nights aboard afore then."
Sure enough, when the ship was settled and the captain was satisfied with her cleanliness and tidiness, he called his crew together and gave them the news. It was met with resigned sighs from the men.
"I'll pay you all," Flint said. "We've had a good run, recent, and there's enough for all o' ye to do what you wish wi' the time here. I won't stop you joining another vessel. I know some o' you want to go home. I heard that the Lady Margaret and the Sea Breeze are leaving Tortuga afore the sennight is out. The Margaret's sailing for London town, the Sea Breeze for Dublin after Bilbao. Good ships. Take passage, if you will. There are other ships here staying in the West Indies. I'll know by tomorrow night how long the Pearl'll be hauled out, should you wish to rejoin her. I'd be glad to have any of ye. Thank you, gentlemen."
The pirates dispersed, some of them going to Flint's cabin to collect their winnings before heading ashore in the boats.
Jack leant on the rail, morosely looking out to sea. Anamaria, her pocket jingling with coins, came up to him. "Jack."
"What?"
"I'm going ashore. Do you not want something to eat?"
"Not hungry, love." His gaze returned to the open horizon, now lit by a rosy sunset that cast bands of light on the water.
Anamaria frowned to herself, and shrugged. "Your loss. Goodnight, then."
"'Night," Jack said, absently. She frowned again, and hurried off to climb into the boat that was just leaving.
The splash of the oars faded, and Jack was left with the lap of the water against the ship's hull, and the call of seabirds high above as they went to their night's rest. With the sun gone, the air was chilly, and he hurried below decks to fetch his blanket. On the way back up he came across Captain Flint, carrying a cup of water from the galley to his cabin.
"Not gone ashore, Jack?"
"No sir," Jack said.
"Thought you'd want to, after that crossing."
"Oh," said Jack, pulling the blanket around his shoulders, "I'm glad we're out of that weather. Nasty weather. No sailor in his right mind'd like such a storm. But why would any sailor wish to be tied down to land, if he could be out free with the wind under his sails?"
Flint gave Jack a hard, appraising look, and then laughed freely. "You ought to have been a poet, lad." He sipped his water, grimaced, and added, "Not that I won't be glad for fresh water." He turned to go, and paused. "Are you sleeping aboard tonight?"
"Aye, cap'n, if you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind." Flint smiled at him. "I'll be in my cabin, if there's a problem."
Jack nodded, and the captain went off down the corridor.
Back on deck, Jack shimmied out to the end of the bowsprit and sat there, as the stars and the moon came out and the lights in the town flickered into life.
The next morning, after a night out in the cool air with the stars above him, he felt a little more philosophical about the whole matter of the Pearl being out of the water. He resolved to go and collect his earnings from Captain Flint, spend some of them, and then find himself a ship that would take him until his beloved Black Pearl was back afloat.
Accordingly, once he had returned his blanket to his hammock and jammed his hat on his sleep-tousled head, he tapped on the captain's door.
"Come to fetch your money?" Flint asked, opening it.
"Aye, sir," Jack said. "I'm going to find another vessel."
Leaving the door open, Flint turned back to the table in the centre of the cabin, and began to count coins out of a chest. "Sensible lad. I'll put in a word for you round about. But you'll come back to the Pearl when she's ready for you?"
Jack took his winnings, and stowed them away carefully. There was a sizeable handful of coins, enough to last him for a good long time.
"If she'll have me, captain."
"She'll have you. Good luck, Mr Sparrow."
Bowing gravely, Jack said: "Thank you, cap'n."
Captain Flint returned the bow with an inclination of his head and a smile. "Off you go, Jack. Swag to spend and ships to find."
Jack patted his pocket, heard a reassuring jingle, and nodded. "Certainly."
He turned, and strolled off, the coins accompanying him with cheerful music.
There were no boats left to row ashore in, so Jack leant over the rail of the ship and hailed the first one he saw crossing the harbour. The occupant seemed quite happy to ferry him to land in return for a gold doubloon, and Jack soon found himself rolling into Tortuga. He always found it especially tricky to walk when first on land - Bootstrap Bill had once explained it to him, saying that limbs and body got used to the constant motion of the sea, and simply could not cope with the stability of dry land. Jack compensated by exaggerating the roll anyway, and now ambled contentedly along, blissfully unaware of the glances he was getting from passers-by.
He paused first at a tavern, and ordered ale and a bowl of meat stew with bread. The food smelt incredible, and Jack suddenly found he was starving and wolfed it down. The bowl empty, he sat and cradled his ale for a while, enjoying the feeling of being actually full, and dry, and warm; for a few moments he decided that perhaps being ashore was not so bad after all.
Eventually he got up, paid for his meal, and strolled out into the street. It was another beautiful Caribbean day, and Tortuga was, belatedly, beginning to wake up. Sailors rubbing their heads ruefully staggered outside, girls leaned in doorways and taunted them in a good-natured sort of way, shopkeepers propped open doors and set their wares out to attract custom.
Jack folded his hands behind his back and wandered along, stopping now and then to examine something in a shop, or to grin at a girl. After a bit, he found a clothes shop, and went in, fingering his money thoughtfully.
The shopkeeper was nodding over his counter, but as the bell over the door jangled, he sat up and greeted Jack.
"Morning."
"Morning," Jack returned, feeling the material of a dark fitted coat. "How much is this?"
"Oh ..." the shopkeeper emerged from behind his counter and hurried over. "A trifle, good sir, a trifle."
"How much?" Jack repeated.
The shopkeeper's eyes focused quickly. "How much do you want it to be?"
"One pound," Jack suggested, pulling a figure from the air. It had been so long since he had actually paid for anything other than food and drink that he had no idea how much he should say.
Taking the coat from the shelf, and shaking it out, the shopkeeper laughed indulgently. "You'll bankrupt me, sir. Couldn't take less than three."
"One gold guinea," Jack offered, taking the coat from the other man, and holding up against himself.
The shopkeeper's eyes glinted. "Gold?"
"Gold," Jack agreed. He tried the coat on, turning in it and holding out his arms. It fitted beautifully, the skirt flaring in a pleasing manner as he moved. The shopkeeper smiled, ingratiatingly.
"Lovely, sir."
"It is, isn't it?" Jack said. He tapped his fingers against his pocket, and coins tinkled. "One gold guinea, then?"
"You're robbing me!" the shopkeeper protested, weakly.
"No," said Jack, "if I were robbing you, I'd have left the shop already, savvy? You've not been in Tortuga long, have you?"
"Six months," the other man admitted.
Jack produced a coin and flicked it through his fingers. "If you've got such a thing as a shirt that would fit me, I'll double this one. Feeling generous today, me."
The shopkeeper nodded, and from another shelf produced a good linen shirt. "Anything else, sir?"
"Hmmm. Gloves! Have you got any gloves?"
Gloves were duly found, well-fitting leather ones, and Jack put them on and flexed his fingers before drawing his sword and trying out a few parries with the gloves on. The shopkeeper, noticeably nervous, retreated behind his counter, and looked distinctly relieved when Jack put the sword away.
"Two guineas it is," Jack said, tucking the gloves in his sash and keeping the coat on. He passed the coins over, and the shopkeeper carefully bit each one before putting them away. Jack picked up his shirt, tied up with twine, and paused. "I suggest you get a little backbone, mate. Can't survive in Tortuga if you jump every time someone draws a sword. Backbone." He patted the man on the shoulder, and sauntered out, humming to himself.
He was on his way back to the harbour when he heard a call from behind him, and running footsteps. He paused, and turned.
"Jack!"
"Hello, Anamaria," he said.
"Nice coat," she approved. "Are you ... how are you?"
"Same as ever," Jack said.
"Where are you staying?" she asked, falling into step beside him.
"Me? I'm going to join another ship, love." Anamaria's thin face looked downcast. "I couldn't stay ashore for longer than a few weeks, Ana. You know me, I'm ..."
"Jack Sparrow," she finished for him. "Yes, I know. I was ... I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me."
"Where are you going?"
"I have an aunt, in a village near here," Anamaria said. "I am going to stay with her."
"Not going to find another vessel yourself?"
She frowned at him, as if the reason were obvious. "Not all captains are like Captain Flint, Jack. I am a girl, I am bad luck. I would not be able to find another ship to join. I will wait, for the Pearl to sail once more."
"Won't be too long," Jack said, hopefully.
She stopped walking. "I'll miss you, Jack."
"Me too. I'll miss me too." She hit him playfully on the arm. "Ow! I don't think I deserved that."
"You always deserve it.
Jack tucked his new shirt under his arm and gave her a hug. "I suspect I do. See you in a bit, then, shall I?"
Anamaria returned the hug, and surreptitiously wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Have fun."
He grinned.
"Oh, I will, love. You know I will."
She shook her head in mock exasperation, and then turned and walked away determinedly not looking back. Jack watched her go, and began slowly to make his way to the harbour, and to find himself a ship.
Author's note: Zwarte Perel asked for an update on the chronology of the piece. So: it's now 1663, Jack is 19 going on 20, and Anamaria thinks she's about 14. Back in England, Elsie Turner's just discovered she's pregnant, and the local midwife is making predictions that it's a boy. Hope that helps!
----
It was a clear, hot day when the Black Pearl limped into Tortuga harbour. The voyage across the Atlantic had been long and arduous, the ship wracked by storms. She had come the last few hundred miles under very little canvas, after several sails had been ripped to shreds in the wind. It was with a sigh of devout relief that Captain Flint ordered the anchor to be lowered in the shelter of the bay.
"Home again!" said Anamaria, gladly, as she secured a shroud with an efficient knot.
"Land!" said Carpenter, by her side.
Jack stuck his fingers in his sash. "Only Tortuga."
"Someone should have been born a fish," Anamaria observed.
"Going to have to get used to land, lad," Thornton said, crossing to them. "Captain wants her hauled out for repairs."
"What?" Jack stared. "Take the Pearl out of the water?"
"Come now, you've been a sailor long enough to know what 'hauled out' means," Thornton remonstrated.
"I know what it means," Jack said. "What I don't like is how it sounds. How long?"
"Got to talk to a shipwright, negotiate a price," Thornton said. "Could be a few weeks. Could be a few months."
Jack looked aghast, his kohl-rimmed eyes even larger than usual. "Months?! But what do we do?"
"Have a rest?" Carpenter suggested. "Bit o' time ashore, use some of that tidy profit we've made?"
"Ashore?!" Jack threw his hands up in the air. "Ashore's for a few nights, here 'n' there. Not for months!"
The others exchanged glances, and Anamaria folded her arms and faced her friend.
"Jack, don't be ridiculous. You cannot spend the rest of your life afloat."
"Why not?" Jack returned her stare, hands now resting on his hips. "Why not, Ana? Apart from the odd foray ashore for food, and ..." he caught her look, and changed what he was going to say, "and to trade, I would be blissfully happy if I never saw a single piece of land. Where's there's land, there's people, and where there's people, there's trouble - savvy? Mark me words."
"Consider them marked," Thornton said. "But it won't be for a day or so, lad. You'll have a few nights aboard afore then."
Sure enough, when the ship was settled and the captain was satisfied with her cleanliness and tidiness, he called his crew together and gave them the news. It was met with resigned sighs from the men.
"I'll pay you all," Flint said. "We've had a good run, recent, and there's enough for all o' ye to do what you wish wi' the time here. I won't stop you joining another vessel. I know some o' you want to go home. I heard that the Lady Margaret and the Sea Breeze are leaving Tortuga afore the sennight is out. The Margaret's sailing for London town, the Sea Breeze for Dublin after Bilbao. Good ships. Take passage, if you will. There are other ships here staying in the West Indies. I'll know by tomorrow night how long the Pearl'll be hauled out, should you wish to rejoin her. I'd be glad to have any of ye. Thank you, gentlemen."
The pirates dispersed, some of them going to Flint's cabin to collect their winnings before heading ashore in the boats.
Jack leant on the rail, morosely looking out to sea. Anamaria, her pocket jingling with coins, came up to him. "Jack."
"What?"
"I'm going ashore. Do you not want something to eat?"
"Not hungry, love." His gaze returned to the open horizon, now lit by a rosy sunset that cast bands of light on the water.
Anamaria frowned to herself, and shrugged. "Your loss. Goodnight, then."
"'Night," Jack said, absently. She frowned again, and hurried off to climb into the boat that was just leaving.
The splash of the oars faded, and Jack was left with the lap of the water against the ship's hull, and the call of seabirds high above as they went to their night's rest. With the sun gone, the air was chilly, and he hurried below decks to fetch his blanket. On the way back up he came across Captain Flint, carrying a cup of water from the galley to his cabin.
"Not gone ashore, Jack?"
"No sir," Jack said.
"Thought you'd want to, after that crossing."
"Oh," said Jack, pulling the blanket around his shoulders, "I'm glad we're out of that weather. Nasty weather. No sailor in his right mind'd like such a storm. But why would any sailor wish to be tied down to land, if he could be out free with the wind under his sails?"
Flint gave Jack a hard, appraising look, and then laughed freely. "You ought to have been a poet, lad." He sipped his water, grimaced, and added, "Not that I won't be glad for fresh water." He turned to go, and paused. "Are you sleeping aboard tonight?"
"Aye, cap'n, if you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind." Flint smiled at him. "I'll be in my cabin, if there's a problem."
Jack nodded, and the captain went off down the corridor.
Back on deck, Jack shimmied out to the end of the bowsprit and sat there, as the stars and the moon came out and the lights in the town flickered into life.
The next morning, after a night out in the cool air with the stars above him, he felt a little more philosophical about the whole matter of the Pearl being out of the water. He resolved to go and collect his earnings from Captain Flint, spend some of them, and then find himself a ship that would take him until his beloved Black Pearl was back afloat.
Accordingly, once he had returned his blanket to his hammock and jammed his hat on his sleep-tousled head, he tapped on the captain's door.
"Come to fetch your money?" Flint asked, opening it.
"Aye, sir," Jack said. "I'm going to find another vessel."
Leaving the door open, Flint turned back to the table in the centre of the cabin, and began to count coins out of a chest. "Sensible lad. I'll put in a word for you round about. But you'll come back to the Pearl when she's ready for you?"
Jack took his winnings, and stowed them away carefully. There was a sizeable handful of coins, enough to last him for a good long time.
"If she'll have me, captain."
"She'll have you. Good luck, Mr Sparrow."
Bowing gravely, Jack said: "Thank you, cap'n."
Captain Flint returned the bow with an inclination of his head and a smile. "Off you go, Jack. Swag to spend and ships to find."
Jack patted his pocket, heard a reassuring jingle, and nodded. "Certainly."
He turned, and strolled off, the coins accompanying him with cheerful music.
There were no boats left to row ashore in, so Jack leant over the rail of the ship and hailed the first one he saw crossing the harbour. The occupant seemed quite happy to ferry him to land in return for a gold doubloon, and Jack soon found himself rolling into Tortuga. He always found it especially tricky to walk when first on land - Bootstrap Bill had once explained it to him, saying that limbs and body got used to the constant motion of the sea, and simply could not cope with the stability of dry land. Jack compensated by exaggerating the roll anyway, and now ambled contentedly along, blissfully unaware of the glances he was getting from passers-by.
He paused first at a tavern, and ordered ale and a bowl of meat stew with bread. The food smelt incredible, and Jack suddenly found he was starving and wolfed it down. The bowl empty, he sat and cradled his ale for a while, enjoying the feeling of being actually full, and dry, and warm; for a few moments he decided that perhaps being ashore was not so bad after all.
Eventually he got up, paid for his meal, and strolled out into the street. It was another beautiful Caribbean day, and Tortuga was, belatedly, beginning to wake up. Sailors rubbing their heads ruefully staggered outside, girls leaned in doorways and taunted them in a good-natured sort of way, shopkeepers propped open doors and set their wares out to attract custom.
Jack folded his hands behind his back and wandered along, stopping now and then to examine something in a shop, or to grin at a girl. After a bit, he found a clothes shop, and went in, fingering his money thoughtfully.
The shopkeeper was nodding over his counter, but as the bell over the door jangled, he sat up and greeted Jack.
"Morning."
"Morning," Jack returned, feeling the material of a dark fitted coat. "How much is this?"
"Oh ..." the shopkeeper emerged from behind his counter and hurried over. "A trifle, good sir, a trifle."
"How much?" Jack repeated.
The shopkeeper's eyes focused quickly. "How much do you want it to be?"
"One pound," Jack suggested, pulling a figure from the air. It had been so long since he had actually paid for anything other than food and drink that he had no idea how much he should say.
Taking the coat from the shelf, and shaking it out, the shopkeeper laughed indulgently. "You'll bankrupt me, sir. Couldn't take less than three."
"One gold guinea," Jack offered, taking the coat from the other man, and holding up against himself.
The shopkeeper's eyes glinted. "Gold?"
"Gold," Jack agreed. He tried the coat on, turning in it and holding out his arms. It fitted beautifully, the skirt flaring in a pleasing manner as he moved. The shopkeeper smiled, ingratiatingly.
"Lovely, sir."
"It is, isn't it?" Jack said. He tapped his fingers against his pocket, and coins tinkled. "One gold guinea, then?"
"You're robbing me!" the shopkeeper protested, weakly.
"No," said Jack, "if I were robbing you, I'd have left the shop already, savvy? You've not been in Tortuga long, have you?"
"Six months," the other man admitted.
Jack produced a coin and flicked it through his fingers. "If you've got such a thing as a shirt that would fit me, I'll double this one. Feeling generous today, me."
The shopkeeper nodded, and from another shelf produced a good linen shirt. "Anything else, sir?"
"Hmmm. Gloves! Have you got any gloves?"
Gloves were duly found, well-fitting leather ones, and Jack put them on and flexed his fingers before drawing his sword and trying out a few parries with the gloves on. The shopkeeper, noticeably nervous, retreated behind his counter, and looked distinctly relieved when Jack put the sword away.
"Two guineas it is," Jack said, tucking the gloves in his sash and keeping the coat on. He passed the coins over, and the shopkeeper carefully bit each one before putting them away. Jack picked up his shirt, tied up with twine, and paused. "I suggest you get a little backbone, mate. Can't survive in Tortuga if you jump every time someone draws a sword. Backbone." He patted the man on the shoulder, and sauntered out, humming to himself.
He was on his way back to the harbour when he heard a call from behind him, and running footsteps. He paused, and turned.
"Jack!"
"Hello, Anamaria," he said.
"Nice coat," she approved. "Are you ... how are you?"
"Same as ever," Jack said.
"Where are you staying?" she asked, falling into step beside him.
"Me? I'm going to join another ship, love." Anamaria's thin face looked downcast. "I couldn't stay ashore for longer than a few weeks, Ana. You know me, I'm ..."
"Jack Sparrow," she finished for him. "Yes, I know. I was ... I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me."
"Where are you going?"
"I have an aunt, in a village near here," Anamaria said. "I am going to stay with her."
"Not going to find another vessel yourself?"
She frowned at him, as if the reason were obvious. "Not all captains are like Captain Flint, Jack. I am a girl, I am bad luck. I would not be able to find another ship to join. I will wait, for the Pearl to sail once more."
"Won't be too long," Jack said, hopefully.
She stopped walking. "I'll miss you, Jack."
"Me too. I'll miss me too." She hit him playfully on the arm. "Ow! I don't think I deserved that."
"You always deserve it.
Jack tucked his new shirt under his arm and gave her a hug. "I suspect I do. See you in a bit, then, shall I?"
Anamaria returned the hug, and surreptitiously wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Have fun."
He grinned.
"Oh, I will, love. You know I will."
She shook her head in mock exasperation, and then turned and walked away determinedly not looking back. Jack watched her go, and began slowly to make his way to the harbour, and to find himself a ship.