Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: Edward Howard was a real person, the 2nd Earl of Carlisle. He became a Whig MP in 1666 at the age of just 20. His son began the building of Castle Howard in North Yorkshire, which is the domed stately home seen in the TV drama Brideshead Revisited. I've no idea why I included him, I just wanted a real person!
There was shouting, and screaming, and yelling, and Jack swung through the air feeling purely alive. They had heaved to aside a new, heavily laden merchant vessel, and the captain of the Fiery Dragon had ordered them to board the other ship. The merchants seemed reasonably well prepared, and a bullet whizzed past Jack's head as he landed neatly on the deck of their ship. He drew his sword and met a blade whistling down towards his head, pushing the man wielding it back.
His opponent was young, even younger than Jack himself, and dressed in salt-stained velvet. He seemed wealthy, and his sword skills were impressive but mannered. Jack, his braids flying, threw himself into the fight. "You should be ashamed of yourself, sir!" his opponent panted, between thrusts. "Piracy is a despicable occupation."
"So despise me, mate," Jack returned, dodging a neat uppercut. "I'm sure I'm despicable." Their blades clashed. The young man stepped back and tripped over a pile of rope, and he went down, dropping his sword as he did so. Jack bent and retrieved it. "Nice sword."
"A gift from my father," the young man said, his tone bitter.
"Well off, is he?" Jack asked, examining the sword. It had a good leather grip and gold set into the pommel, and it balanced perfectly.
"He's the Earl of Carlisle," his opponent said, haughtily. "I am Lord Edward Howard."
Jack whistled. "Don't think I've ever robbed a lord before."
"I have never been robbed by a pirate before," Edward Howard said, rather miserably. He pulled out a leather bag full of money, and threw it to Jack. "All I have, I am afraid. My father was loath to send me away with much, for fear something like this would happen."
"Now that," said Jack, pocketing the bag, "is a sensible plan that more people should follow. Lucky for us they don't, eh?"
Lord Howard managed a weak smile, and sat up, rubbing his elbow. "Aye, indeed it is. And for me. What happens now?"
Jack tucked the stolen sword in his sash, and stepped back. "Nothing, y'r lordship. I've got your cash, that's all I want - savvy? You go back home to your dad and tell him pirates aren't so bad as they're made out to be." He bowed politely, and turned to find someone else to steal from. Lord Howard sat where he had fallen, confusion written all over his face.
The crew of the Dragon ransacked the merchant ship, hauling up crates and barrels and sacks from the hold and passing them over the gap between the two vessels. Half of them stayed guarding the merchant sailors, who had been subdued and rounded up. Jack was in the group of guards, his sword in his hand but resting on the ground, humming a shanty to himself under his breath. The last few barrels were being transferred to the Fiery Dragon, and some of the pirates were looking hopeful at the thought of a ration of rum with supper, when the captain of the merchant ship moved. He launched himself straight at his nearest guard, who happened to be Jack.
Jack dropped his sword and caught the man's arms. "None o' that," he said.
The captain opened his mouth to speak, but instead he gasped and his eyes widened. Looking down, Jack saw the end of a sword protruding from the captain's stomach.
"Bloody hell!" he swore. "There was no call for that!"
"You'd have let him escape, would you?" someone said.
"No. No!" Jack nodded at the body, which he was still holding. "Someone take the sword out of this poor wretch, won't you?"
The sword's owner, a heavily built Welshman, pulled the weapon out of the captain's body, and Jack let it fall to the deck.
They had no more trouble from the merchants, but Jack seemed to keep catching Lord Howard's eye, and he felt dreadful. In nine years of sailing with Captain Flint aboard the Black Pearl, nobody had ever been killed in cold blood. There had been deaths, on both the pirates' side and that of the ships they were raiding, but such deaths occurred in combat, a two-sided conflict. This - Jack knew he could have restrained the merchant captain, especially with a little help from his crewmates, and the death had been entirely unnecessary.
Shortly, the pirates were called back aboard their ship. Jack lingered as long as possible, and before crossing the plank he pulled Lord Howard's beautiful sword out of his belt and threw it back to its owner.
"I'm sorry, mate," he said, and hurried back to his ship.
They sailed away, leaving the merchants drifting. Watching them from the top of the mainmast as the sails were set, Jack muttered: "Poor blighters," to himself. His neighbour glanced at him.
"Poorer than you reckon," he said. "They'll be drifting there until someone picks 'em up. Cap'n cut the rudder chain, and anyway we only left 'em with some maggoty bread. Good, innit?"
"Great." Jack grinned, cheerfully, but inside he found himself feeling a little sick.
The next day was calm, and the captain set his crew to counting their gains from the raid. The hold was full to bursting with the loot, which proved to be a good selection of goods from England - some light furniture, fabric, weapons, coins, and other valuable items. Evidently the merchants had been on their way to Port Royal or another of the main colonial towns, their journey nearly over, when the Dragon attacked. Jack, despite himself, was impressed with the haul, and had his eye on a set of pistols. But it seemed than the pirates were not to get their share of the profits straight away, for once the money had been counted and the goods catalogued (in slow, painstaking writing by the captain himself) everything was stowed away again. Longing to ask about payment, Jack instead bit his tongue and said nothing.
The calm lasted all that day, and after the evening meal, supplemented by some of the rum from the merchants, some of the crew settled down to yet another game of cards. Jack declined to join in, but sat nearby and watched the game. There were the usual ribald jokes and caustic comments as the cards passed from hand to hand. A bottle of rum went round too, growing steadily emptier. Jack leant on his elbow and watched, and soon became aware that his enemy Ginger Beard was quite openly cheating. Some of the other pirates obviously noticed too, but instead of calling him on it, merely continued playing.
Jack watched for a little longer, and then, shaking his head, got up and slipped out of the galley, to sit on deck and wonder what his friends from the Black Pearl were doing. He was afloat, but he was not happy. It was a strange situation, and he found himself wishing that he had taken Anamaria up on her offer to stay with her aunt. He found himself missing the cheerful camaraderie of the Pearl, and Captain Flint's firm but fair command, as much as he missed the faded black sails of his ship. Indeed, Jack Sparrow was lonely. As he stood up to go down to his hammock and try to sleep, he resolved to leave the Fiery Dragon as soon as possible.
He was woken early the next morning, by someone shaking his shoulder.
"Sparrow."
"Eh?" Jack opened his eyes. "Have I missed my watch?"
"No more watches for you, mate," the pirate standing by his hammock said. "Cap'n wants to see you." He leered, unpleasantly. Jack frowned at him, and pushed back his blanket.
"All right. Coming. Give me some space, won't you?"
He dropped down to the floor, pulled on his boots and tied his headscarf around his head, and followed the other man to the captain's cabin.
To his surprise, it was full. The captain was seated at the table in the centre, surrounded by some of the more senior crewmembers. They fell silent as Jack was ushered in.
On the table was one of the bags of coins lifted from the merchant ship, the drawstring neck open; and the catalogue the captain had made of the swag. Jack took the scene in quickly, noting that Ginger Beard was at the captain's right hand.
"Sparrow," the captain said, his tone serious.
"Cap'n," Jack returned.
"Sparrow, some money's gone missing. How much was it, again, Mr Burns?"
The ginger-haired pirate said: "Ten guineas and thirty silver shillins, cap'n."
"Have you seen those ten guineas and thirty shillings, Sparrow?" the captain asked.
"Me?" Jack asked, genuinely bemused. "Aren't they in that bag?"
The crew round the captain roared with laughter.
"No, Sparrow, they are not in that there bag," said the captain. "Mr Burns here tells me that he saw you going down to the hold last night. You know it's out o' bounds."
"I went nowhere near the hold," Jack protested, seeing now that he had been set up by Burns. "Haven't touched the bloody money."
"Can anyone support you in that?" the captain asked.
Jack shrugged. "I don't know, cap'n. Didn't see anyone else after I left the galley last night. Maybe it were someone else down in the hold, and Mr Burns here mistook him for me."
The pirates all looked at Jack, at his braids and beads, and laughed again. This time, the captain laughed with them.
"Mistook someone else for you?" he said. "Frankly, Sparrow, I find that impossible to believe."
"I swear I was nowhere near," Jack said. "I watched the cards for a bit, went up on deck, then bedded down. I didn't take that money, sir."
The captain regarded him for a moment. "Search him," he ordered.
Two of the pirates came forward, and roughly began to pat Jack's clothes. One of them pulled off his headscarf, shaking it before throwing it on to the table.
"What're you doing?" Jack said. "I haven't taken it. And if I had, would I be so daft as to hide it in me clothes?"
"Daft?" said the captain. "Maybe. You don't seem so bright, Sparrow. Daft might be the word I'd use for you. You two ..." he glanced at two of his crew, "go and search his hammock."
The pirates disappeared. Jack folded his arms. "What would I want with a paltry ten guineas, cap'n? If I return to the Pearl, I'll get more of them. You've got one good raid here, I'll give you that, but it's naught compared to what we've done." He leaned on the table, and met the captain's eye. "And we don't kill prisoners. I joined this ship reckoning you were pirates, not murderers. If you want to throw me off the ship, cap'n, throw me off. I'll be glad to leave you."
"Will you indeed?" the captain said, his tone cold.
The door opened, and the two pirates who had been told off to search Jack's hammock came back. "We found this," one of them said, throwing a small leather bag on to the table. Burns opened it, and out tumbled the missing coins, clinking against each other.
Jack gaped. Burns spread the money out, and gave Jack a satisfied smile.
"What have you to say for yourself?" the captain asked.
"Nothing I say'll make you believe I didn't take it," Jack said. "Throw me in the brig, chuck me off the ship at the next port. You've got your guineas back." He cast a hard look at Burns. "You've got your own back for me beating you in that fight t'other day. I've had enough, cap'n."
"By rights I should maroon you."
"Keel haul him," Burns put in.
The captain frowned, his brow creasing. "Not for mere theft, Mr Burns, and not when the cash has been found. This lad wants to leave us. He shall leave us, next landfall we make. Wherever we make it." Jack put his hands together, and inclined his head in thanks. "Throw him in the brig," the captain said, wearily.
Jack was hauled down to the brig and locked inside it. Burns lingered outside.
"You've got your revenge," Jack said. "You can leave now."
"Mark my words," Burns said, his voice low. "If I ever see you again, Jack Sparrow, I'll run a sword through your cowardly guts. I won't forget this."
"Me either, mate," Jack said. "Me either."
Burns spat on the ground in front of him, and turned away. Jack sighed, and settled down to wait until the ship dropped anchor somewhere. His first foray away from the Black Pearl had not been successful.
Author's note: Edward Howard was a real person, the 2nd Earl of Carlisle. He became a Whig MP in 1666 at the age of just 20. His son began the building of Castle Howard in North Yorkshire, which is the domed stately home seen in the TV drama Brideshead Revisited. I've no idea why I included him, I just wanted a real person!
There was shouting, and screaming, and yelling, and Jack swung through the air feeling purely alive. They had heaved to aside a new, heavily laden merchant vessel, and the captain of the Fiery Dragon had ordered them to board the other ship. The merchants seemed reasonably well prepared, and a bullet whizzed past Jack's head as he landed neatly on the deck of their ship. He drew his sword and met a blade whistling down towards his head, pushing the man wielding it back.
His opponent was young, even younger than Jack himself, and dressed in salt-stained velvet. He seemed wealthy, and his sword skills were impressive but mannered. Jack, his braids flying, threw himself into the fight. "You should be ashamed of yourself, sir!" his opponent panted, between thrusts. "Piracy is a despicable occupation."
"So despise me, mate," Jack returned, dodging a neat uppercut. "I'm sure I'm despicable." Their blades clashed. The young man stepped back and tripped over a pile of rope, and he went down, dropping his sword as he did so. Jack bent and retrieved it. "Nice sword."
"A gift from my father," the young man said, his tone bitter.
"Well off, is he?" Jack asked, examining the sword. It had a good leather grip and gold set into the pommel, and it balanced perfectly.
"He's the Earl of Carlisle," his opponent said, haughtily. "I am Lord Edward Howard."
Jack whistled. "Don't think I've ever robbed a lord before."
"I have never been robbed by a pirate before," Edward Howard said, rather miserably. He pulled out a leather bag full of money, and threw it to Jack. "All I have, I am afraid. My father was loath to send me away with much, for fear something like this would happen."
"Now that," said Jack, pocketing the bag, "is a sensible plan that more people should follow. Lucky for us they don't, eh?"
Lord Howard managed a weak smile, and sat up, rubbing his elbow. "Aye, indeed it is. And for me. What happens now?"
Jack tucked the stolen sword in his sash, and stepped back. "Nothing, y'r lordship. I've got your cash, that's all I want - savvy? You go back home to your dad and tell him pirates aren't so bad as they're made out to be." He bowed politely, and turned to find someone else to steal from. Lord Howard sat where he had fallen, confusion written all over his face.
The crew of the Dragon ransacked the merchant ship, hauling up crates and barrels and sacks from the hold and passing them over the gap between the two vessels. Half of them stayed guarding the merchant sailors, who had been subdued and rounded up. Jack was in the group of guards, his sword in his hand but resting on the ground, humming a shanty to himself under his breath. The last few barrels were being transferred to the Fiery Dragon, and some of the pirates were looking hopeful at the thought of a ration of rum with supper, when the captain of the merchant ship moved. He launched himself straight at his nearest guard, who happened to be Jack.
Jack dropped his sword and caught the man's arms. "None o' that," he said.
The captain opened his mouth to speak, but instead he gasped and his eyes widened. Looking down, Jack saw the end of a sword protruding from the captain's stomach.
"Bloody hell!" he swore. "There was no call for that!"
"You'd have let him escape, would you?" someone said.
"No. No!" Jack nodded at the body, which he was still holding. "Someone take the sword out of this poor wretch, won't you?"
The sword's owner, a heavily built Welshman, pulled the weapon out of the captain's body, and Jack let it fall to the deck.
They had no more trouble from the merchants, but Jack seemed to keep catching Lord Howard's eye, and he felt dreadful. In nine years of sailing with Captain Flint aboard the Black Pearl, nobody had ever been killed in cold blood. There had been deaths, on both the pirates' side and that of the ships they were raiding, but such deaths occurred in combat, a two-sided conflict. This - Jack knew he could have restrained the merchant captain, especially with a little help from his crewmates, and the death had been entirely unnecessary.
Shortly, the pirates were called back aboard their ship. Jack lingered as long as possible, and before crossing the plank he pulled Lord Howard's beautiful sword out of his belt and threw it back to its owner.
"I'm sorry, mate," he said, and hurried back to his ship.
They sailed away, leaving the merchants drifting. Watching them from the top of the mainmast as the sails were set, Jack muttered: "Poor blighters," to himself. His neighbour glanced at him.
"Poorer than you reckon," he said. "They'll be drifting there until someone picks 'em up. Cap'n cut the rudder chain, and anyway we only left 'em with some maggoty bread. Good, innit?"
"Great." Jack grinned, cheerfully, but inside he found himself feeling a little sick.
The next day was calm, and the captain set his crew to counting their gains from the raid. The hold was full to bursting with the loot, which proved to be a good selection of goods from England - some light furniture, fabric, weapons, coins, and other valuable items. Evidently the merchants had been on their way to Port Royal or another of the main colonial towns, their journey nearly over, when the Dragon attacked. Jack, despite himself, was impressed with the haul, and had his eye on a set of pistols. But it seemed than the pirates were not to get their share of the profits straight away, for once the money had been counted and the goods catalogued (in slow, painstaking writing by the captain himself) everything was stowed away again. Longing to ask about payment, Jack instead bit his tongue and said nothing.
The calm lasted all that day, and after the evening meal, supplemented by some of the rum from the merchants, some of the crew settled down to yet another game of cards. Jack declined to join in, but sat nearby and watched the game. There were the usual ribald jokes and caustic comments as the cards passed from hand to hand. A bottle of rum went round too, growing steadily emptier. Jack leant on his elbow and watched, and soon became aware that his enemy Ginger Beard was quite openly cheating. Some of the other pirates obviously noticed too, but instead of calling him on it, merely continued playing.
Jack watched for a little longer, and then, shaking his head, got up and slipped out of the galley, to sit on deck and wonder what his friends from the Black Pearl were doing. He was afloat, but he was not happy. It was a strange situation, and he found himself wishing that he had taken Anamaria up on her offer to stay with her aunt. He found himself missing the cheerful camaraderie of the Pearl, and Captain Flint's firm but fair command, as much as he missed the faded black sails of his ship. Indeed, Jack Sparrow was lonely. As he stood up to go down to his hammock and try to sleep, he resolved to leave the Fiery Dragon as soon as possible.
He was woken early the next morning, by someone shaking his shoulder.
"Sparrow."
"Eh?" Jack opened his eyes. "Have I missed my watch?"
"No more watches for you, mate," the pirate standing by his hammock said. "Cap'n wants to see you." He leered, unpleasantly. Jack frowned at him, and pushed back his blanket.
"All right. Coming. Give me some space, won't you?"
He dropped down to the floor, pulled on his boots and tied his headscarf around his head, and followed the other man to the captain's cabin.
To his surprise, it was full. The captain was seated at the table in the centre, surrounded by some of the more senior crewmembers. They fell silent as Jack was ushered in.
On the table was one of the bags of coins lifted from the merchant ship, the drawstring neck open; and the catalogue the captain had made of the swag. Jack took the scene in quickly, noting that Ginger Beard was at the captain's right hand.
"Sparrow," the captain said, his tone serious.
"Cap'n," Jack returned.
"Sparrow, some money's gone missing. How much was it, again, Mr Burns?"
The ginger-haired pirate said: "Ten guineas and thirty silver shillins, cap'n."
"Have you seen those ten guineas and thirty shillings, Sparrow?" the captain asked.
"Me?" Jack asked, genuinely bemused. "Aren't they in that bag?"
The crew round the captain roared with laughter.
"No, Sparrow, they are not in that there bag," said the captain. "Mr Burns here tells me that he saw you going down to the hold last night. You know it's out o' bounds."
"I went nowhere near the hold," Jack protested, seeing now that he had been set up by Burns. "Haven't touched the bloody money."
"Can anyone support you in that?" the captain asked.
Jack shrugged. "I don't know, cap'n. Didn't see anyone else after I left the galley last night. Maybe it were someone else down in the hold, and Mr Burns here mistook him for me."
The pirates all looked at Jack, at his braids and beads, and laughed again. This time, the captain laughed with them.
"Mistook someone else for you?" he said. "Frankly, Sparrow, I find that impossible to believe."
"I swear I was nowhere near," Jack said. "I watched the cards for a bit, went up on deck, then bedded down. I didn't take that money, sir."
The captain regarded him for a moment. "Search him," he ordered.
Two of the pirates came forward, and roughly began to pat Jack's clothes. One of them pulled off his headscarf, shaking it before throwing it on to the table.
"What're you doing?" Jack said. "I haven't taken it. And if I had, would I be so daft as to hide it in me clothes?"
"Daft?" said the captain. "Maybe. You don't seem so bright, Sparrow. Daft might be the word I'd use for you. You two ..." he glanced at two of his crew, "go and search his hammock."
The pirates disappeared. Jack folded his arms. "What would I want with a paltry ten guineas, cap'n? If I return to the Pearl, I'll get more of them. You've got one good raid here, I'll give you that, but it's naught compared to what we've done." He leaned on the table, and met the captain's eye. "And we don't kill prisoners. I joined this ship reckoning you were pirates, not murderers. If you want to throw me off the ship, cap'n, throw me off. I'll be glad to leave you."
"Will you indeed?" the captain said, his tone cold.
The door opened, and the two pirates who had been told off to search Jack's hammock came back. "We found this," one of them said, throwing a small leather bag on to the table. Burns opened it, and out tumbled the missing coins, clinking against each other.
Jack gaped. Burns spread the money out, and gave Jack a satisfied smile.
"What have you to say for yourself?" the captain asked.
"Nothing I say'll make you believe I didn't take it," Jack said. "Throw me in the brig, chuck me off the ship at the next port. You've got your guineas back." He cast a hard look at Burns. "You've got your own back for me beating you in that fight t'other day. I've had enough, cap'n."
"By rights I should maroon you."
"Keel haul him," Burns put in.
The captain frowned, his brow creasing. "Not for mere theft, Mr Burns, and not when the cash has been found. This lad wants to leave us. He shall leave us, next landfall we make. Wherever we make it." Jack put his hands together, and inclined his head in thanks. "Throw him in the brig," the captain said, wearily.
Jack was hauled down to the brig and locked inside it. Burns lingered outside.
"You've got your revenge," Jack said. "You can leave now."
"Mark my words," Burns said, his voice low. "If I ever see you again, Jack Sparrow, I'll run a sword through your cowardly guts. I won't forget this."
"Me either, mate," Jack said. "Me either."
Burns spat on the ground in front of him, and turned away. Jack sighed, and settled down to wait until the ship dropped anchor somewhere. His first foray away from the Black Pearl had not been successful.