Disclaimer: see chapter 1
----
Less than a week later, the Black Pearl set sail from Tortuga with a crew of thirty, including Bill Turner. Anamaria was not on board - she had sent a message saying she was happy, for the moment, with her aunt. They had found a young local boy to act as cabin boy instead. Captain Flint set the watches and told his mates to make for Jamaica.
Jack's port watch grumbled to begin with, finding themselves under the command of a man most of them regarded as a mere boy. They muttered to each other, commenting on Jack's steering or his orders, and cast irritated glances in his direction. But Jack had sharp ears and a quick tongue, and he used the latter to useful effect. None of the other pirates knew how to cope with his comments, being more used to physical violence than clever words, and after a couple of weeks at sea, the port watch were quiet and under Jack Sparrow's control.
And so they sailed and looted, drank and fought. With the repairs done, the Black Pearl was indeed faster than ever, and she outran every ship that attempted to give chase. They terrorised the Caribbean for two years, becoming more and more daring as they attacked merchant ships and Navy vessels alike. Jack soon forgot his disappointment at spending less time aloft, with the joy of feeling the ship respond to his touch as he stood at the helm. His fingers caressed the wheel, adjusting course gently, slightly, and he called to his men to trim the sails so that they caught the best wind. The Black Pearl surged forward, and Jack's wild hair streamed behind him. In those moments he felt as though he was master of the world and none could harm him.
After two years in the West Indies, they struck south and sailed along the coast of Latin America. Putting into port here, they heard a mixture of Spanish or Portuguese and a variety of native languages, and the goods on sail were exotic and colourful. Pickings were good, the crew was happy, and life, thought Jack, was pretty near perfect.
It continued in this way for another two years or so. The Black Pearl voyaged around the Caribbean and the Atlantic, changing crew members every now and then at Tortuga. Jack, of course, stayed with the ship, as did Belaying Pin and Bootstrap Bill. Elias Carpenter, who had originally rejoined the crew after the repairs, went home to England. Whenever they stopped in Tortuga, Jack went to visit Anamaria, but their conversations grew awkward as they got older. On his fourth visit, she was no longer living with her aunt, who said she did not know where Anamaria had gone. Jack was sorry, but he had other things to think about.
And now, it was 1669. The Black Pearl had paused at Tortuga for supplies, to empty her hold, and to take on new men, before setting sail again and heading eastwards, to hover off the Windward Islands and prey on ships limping in from the Atlantic. They were doing well, the weather was good, and spirits were high.
Jack's watch was on duty, some of the men cleaning or mending, others lounging around waiting for something to do. Jack was at the helm, Captain Flint's compass in hand, and a course of east-south-east set. The years had taken little toll on him - his hair was a little longer, and a little more weighed down with beads, but he still wore his red headscarf and a striped sash, and his eyes were still rimmed in kohl. Currently they were dark with concentration as he held the Pearl to her course.
Captain Flint came up the steps to the helm, and watched Jack silently for a few minutes.
"How are ye?" he asked.
"Good, captain," Jack said, turning the wheel a fraction.
"No sight of any quarry?"
"Not yet," Jack replied. "Soon as we get any, I'll be sure to let you know, sir."
"You've done well, lad," Flint said. "I reckoned, all them years ago, that you'd be a good sailor; but being a good sailor and being a good pirate are not the same thing. I'm glad I took you on."
Jack grinned. "Not as glad as me, cap'n."
Flint nodded. "Found your element, didn't you? Well, I'm going below. Should you sight any vessel, call me."
"Aye, sir," Jack said. Flint gave him a friendly thump on the shoulder and disappeared.
They sailed for another three hours without seeing anything. The port watch was coming to an end, and the sun starting to set, when the lookout called from aloft, "Sail ho!"
Jack glanced at the compass, and then up towards the crow's nest. "What sail?" he shouted.
"Merchant frigate!" came the reply. "Laden. Off to the east."
Turning the wheel, Jack changed course. "Arm yourselves!" he ordered. "Someone fetch the captain. We're going after her." One of the crew hurried off to find Flint. "Hoist the fore topsail!" Jack called.
They put on all their canvas, and on her new course the Black Pearl surged forwards. Flint came up on deck, buckling on his sword belt, and someone handed Jack his.
"Merchant," said Jack, hand stroking the wheel, tenderly.
"Good lad," Flint approved, taking a look through his telescope. "Let's rouse the starboard watch, get them on deck. Arm the cannon. Keep her on this course, Jack."
Soon, all the crew were on deck and receiving their orders from Flint. They were to sail in close, heave to and fire before boarding the other vessel. It was a plan they had carried out many a time, and everyone knew what to do and when to do it.
Belaying Pin emerged on deck, rubbing his forehead in a tired sort of way, and came up to Jack. "Ship?"
"Merchant," Jack said.
"Want me to take the helm so you can fight?" Belaying Pin asked, yawning. "Truth be that I've no energy to wave a sword today."
Nodding, Jack let go of the wheel and moved aside for the first mate to take his place. "Thanks. We're holding a steady easterly course."
Pin took the wheel. "East it is. Off you go, lad."
Jack hurried to join the rest of the crew. Flint gave him a quick glance, looked to check that the ship was being looked after, and continued with his briefing. Leaning against the rail next to Bootstrap Bill, Jack flexed his fingers and tightened his headscarf, in preparation for the fight to come.
They closed quickly. Flint had chosen to go for the direct approach, and the Jolly Roger was flying from the stern. The sun shone off the bone-white skull, and aboard the merchant vessel they could see men rushing around, preparing to defend their ship.
Everything was going entirely to plan, a well-oiled routine. As they came alongside, Belaying Pin spun the wheel and called for the Black Pearl to heave to. Flint ordered the cannon to fire. The grapples flew, catching on the rail of the merchant ship. Jack seized a shroud and launched himself through the air, drawing his sword as he landed and searching for the richest-looking target. About him was the usual chaos, as the pirates began to ransack the merchants, and the merchants did their best to fight back.
Jack was doing well, having knocked out a sailor and taken a rather nice dagger from him, before moving on to battling a merchant who was handy with his sword. He was enjoying the fight, throwing out comments as he circled the other man, when a shot rang out from behind him, quickly followed by another.
He parried, not letting the noise distract him, but then he heard Bill Turner's voice. "Jack! Jack!"
Jack ducked the other man's sword and turned. "Bit busy, William!"
"Back to the Pearl!" Bootstrap called. "Retreat!"
"Damn it!" Jack cursed, pushing back his opponent and grasping a handy shroud. As he swung back across the gap between the ships, another shot whizzed past his ear, and he rolled on to the deck of the Black Pearl, dropping his sword as he did so.
Bootstrap was bent over a prone figure, huddled under the rail on the starboard side of the ship. Jack hurried across to his friend, and discovered with a jolt that the man lying on the deck, motionless, was Captain Flint.
"Bloody hell, Bill - what happened?"
"He was goin' to board, and got himself shot, the daft idiot," Bill said, his hands covered in blood. He was holding a wad of cloth to Flint's chest, but it was already damp and red.
Jack bent over his captain. "Captain? Captain, wake up. Anyone got any rum?"
"It's all below," Bootstrap said. "There's worse, Jack."
"What?" Jack was tearing off his waistcoat to use as a bandage.
"Pin," said Bill.
Jack looked round, and saw that one of the older pirates was at the helm, a crumpled figure next to him on the deck. "Dead?" he asked.
"Shot to the head," Bill confirmed. "Jack ..."
"I know," Jack said, nodding. He took a deep breath. "Keep holding that there, Bill. Don't let him go."
"I won't."
"Good." Jack stood up, risked a brief look at the merchant ship, and saw that a man was still standing with a musket on the foredeck, aiming at the Black Pearl. There did not seem to be any pirates left on the other vessel; evidently they had all retreated at Bill's call.
Looking up, Jack saw that none of the bullets had hit the Pearl's sails, and that some of the men were already aloft. "All right, you dogs!" he called. "Lower topsails, hoist the jib, let's take her away. Going west, Dick!" he added, to the helmsman.
With all the crew pulling together, the sails caught the wind. The ship turned, picked up speed and was soon pulling away from the merchant vessel. One last shot came from their enemy, and then they were out of range.
Jack hurried back to Captain Flint. Bootstrap was still pressing on the captain's wound, but he looked up and shook his head as Jack approached.
"It's too bad, Jack."
Squatting down by the captain's side, Jack took a limp hand in his. "Captain? Captain?"
Flint's eyes flickered, and opened. "Jack?"
"S'me, cap'n."
"Is the Pearl ... how is she?"
"She's fine," Jack reassured Flint. "Fine."
"Pin?"
Jack squeezed the captain's hand. "Not fine. He's gone, Captain."
"Well," Flint said, and coughed, bringing up blood, "at least he'll be waiting for me."
"You can't say that, savvy?" Jack said, insistent. "Just hang on."
"I'm done for, Jack," Flint said. His skin was pale and greyish, and his grip on Jack's hand failing. "It's been a good life, I've no regrets." He coughed again. "The Black Pearl's yours, lad." Jack found he had no words, and squeezed the captain's hand again. "Captain ... Jack Sparrow ... sounds good, don't it?" Flint laughed, weakly. "Look after the old lady."
"I will," Jack said, forcing the words out. "Promise. I'll look after her."
Flint smiled, and his eyes closed. A moment later he exhaled, and breathed no more.
----
Less than a week later, the Black Pearl set sail from Tortuga with a crew of thirty, including Bill Turner. Anamaria was not on board - she had sent a message saying she was happy, for the moment, with her aunt. They had found a young local boy to act as cabin boy instead. Captain Flint set the watches and told his mates to make for Jamaica.
Jack's port watch grumbled to begin with, finding themselves under the command of a man most of them regarded as a mere boy. They muttered to each other, commenting on Jack's steering or his orders, and cast irritated glances in his direction. But Jack had sharp ears and a quick tongue, and he used the latter to useful effect. None of the other pirates knew how to cope with his comments, being more used to physical violence than clever words, and after a couple of weeks at sea, the port watch were quiet and under Jack Sparrow's control.
And so they sailed and looted, drank and fought. With the repairs done, the Black Pearl was indeed faster than ever, and she outran every ship that attempted to give chase. They terrorised the Caribbean for two years, becoming more and more daring as they attacked merchant ships and Navy vessels alike. Jack soon forgot his disappointment at spending less time aloft, with the joy of feeling the ship respond to his touch as he stood at the helm. His fingers caressed the wheel, adjusting course gently, slightly, and he called to his men to trim the sails so that they caught the best wind. The Black Pearl surged forward, and Jack's wild hair streamed behind him. In those moments he felt as though he was master of the world and none could harm him.
After two years in the West Indies, they struck south and sailed along the coast of Latin America. Putting into port here, they heard a mixture of Spanish or Portuguese and a variety of native languages, and the goods on sail were exotic and colourful. Pickings were good, the crew was happy, and life, thought Jack, was pretty near perfect.
It continued in this way for another two years or so. The Black Pearl voyaged around the Caribbean and the Atlantic, changing crew members every now and then at Tortuga. Jack, of course, stayed with the ship, as did Belaying Pin and Bootstrap Bill. Elias Carpenter, who had originally rejoined the crew after the repairs, went home to England. Whenever they stopped in Tortuga, Jack went to visit Anamaria, but their conversations grew awkward as they got older. On his fourth visit, she was no longer living with her aunt, who said she did not know where Anamaria had gone. Jack was sorry, but he had other things to think about.
And now, it was 1669. The Black Pearl had paused at Tortuga for supplies, to empty her hold, and to take on new men, before setting sail again and heading eastwards, to hover off the Windward Islands and prey on ships limping in from the Atlantic. They were doing well, the weather was good, and spirits were high.
Jack's watch was on duty, some of the men cleaning or mending, others lounging around waiting for something to do. Jack was at the helm, Captain Flint's compass in hand, and a course of east-south-east set. The years had taken little toll on him - his hair was a little longer, and a little more weighed down with beads, but he still wore his red headscarf and a striped sash, and his eyes were still rimmed in kohl. Currently they were dark with concentration as he held the Pearl to her course.
Captain Flint came up the steps to the helm, and watched Jack silently for a few minutes.
"How are ye?" he asked.
"Good, captain," Jack said, turning the wheel a fraction.
"No sight of any quarry?"
"Not yet," Jack replied. "Soon as we get any, I'll be sure to let you know, sir."
"You've done well, lad," Flint said. "I reckoned, all them years ago, that you'd be a good sailor; but being a good sailor and being a good pirate are not the same thing. I'm glad I took you on."
Jack grinned. "Not as glad as me, cap'n."
Flint nodded. "Found your element, didn't you? Well, I'm going below. Should you sight any vessel, call me."
"Aye, sir," Jack said. Flint gave him a friendly thump on the shoulder and disappeared.
They sailed for another three hours without seeing anything. The port watch was coming to an end, and the sun starting to set, when the lookout called from aloft, "Sail ho!"
Jack glanced at the compass, and then up towards the crow's nest. "What sail?" he shouted.
"Merchant frigate!" came the reply. "Laden. Off to the east."
Turning the wheel, Jack changed course. "Arm yourselves!" he ordered. "Someone fetch the captain. We're going after her." One of the crew hurried off to find Flint. "Hoist the fore topsail!" Jack called.
They put on all their canvas, and on her new course the Black Pearl surged forwards. Flint came up on deck, buckling on his sword belt, and someone handed Jack his.
"Merchant," said Jack, hand stroking the wheel, tenderly.
"Good lad," Flint approved, taking a look through his telescope. "Let's rouse the starboard watch, get them on deck. Arm the cannon. Keep her on this course, Jack."
Soon, all the crew were on deck and receiving their orders from Flint. They were to sail in close, heave to and fire before boarding the other vessel. It was a plan they had carried out many a time, and everyone knew what to do and when to do it.
Belaying Pin emerged on deck, rubbing his forehead in a tired sort of way, and came up to Jack. "Ship?"
"Merchant," Jack said.
"Want me to take the helm so you can fight?" Belaying Pin asked, yawning. "Truth be that I've no energy to wave a sword today."
Nodding, Jack let go of the wheel and moved aside for the first mate to take his place. "Thanks. We're holding a steady easterly course."
Pin took the wheel. "East it is. Off you go, lad."
Jack hurried to join the rest of the crew. Flint gave him a quick glance, looked to check that the ship was being looked after, and continued with his briefing. Leaning against the rail next to Bootstrap Bill, Jack flexed his fingers and tightened his headscarf, in preparation for the fight to come.
They closed quickly. Flint had chosen to go for the direct approach, and the Jolly Roger was flying from the stern. The sun shone off the bone-white skull, and aboard the merchant vessel they could see men rushing around, preparing to defend their ship.
Everything was going entirely to plan, a well-oiled routine. As they came alongside, Belaying Pin spun the wheel and called for the Black Pearl to heave to. Flint ordered the cannon to fire. The grapples flew, catching on the rail of the merchant ship. Jack seized a shroud and launched himself through the air, drawing his sword as he landed and searching for the richest-looking target. About him was the usual chaos, as the pirates began to ransack the merchants, and the merchants did their best to fight back.
Jack was doing well, having knocked out a sailor and taken a rather nice dagger from him, before moving on to battling a merchant who was handy with his sword. He was enjoying the fight, throwing out comments as he circled the other man, when a shot rang out from behind him, quickly followed by another.
He parried, not letting the noise distract him, but then he heard Bill Turner's voice. "Jack! Jack!"
Jack ducked the other man's sword and turned. "Bit busy, William!"
"Back to the Pearl!" Bootstrap called. "Retreat!"
"Damn it!" Jack cursed, pushing back his opponent and grasping a handy shroud. As he swung back across the gap between the ships, another shot whizzed past his ear, and he rolled on to the deck of the Black Pearl, dropping his sword as he did so.
Bootstrap was bent over a prone figure, huddled under the rail on the starboard side of the ship. Jack hurried across to his friend, and discovered with a jolt that the man lying on the deck, motionless, was Captain Flint.
"Bloody hell, Bill - what happened?"
"He was goin' to board, and got himself shot, the daft idiot," Bill said, his hands covered in blood. He was holding a wad of cloth to Flint's chest, but it was already damp and red.
Jack bent over his captain. "Captain? Captain, wake up. Anyone got any rum?"
"It's all below," Bootstrap said. "There's worse, Jack."
"What?" Jack was tearing off his waistcoat to use as a bandage.
"Pin," said Bill.
Jack looked round, and saw that one of the older pirates was at the helm, a crumpled figure next to him on the deck. "Dead?" he asked.
"Shot to the head," Bill confirmed. "Jack ..."
"I know," Jack said, nodding. He took a deep breath. "Keep holding that there, Bill. Don't let him go."
"I won't."
"Good." Jack stood up, risked a brief look at the merchant ship, and saw that a man was still standing with a musket on the foredeck, aiming at the Black Pearl. There did not seem to be any pirates left on the other vessel; evidently they had all retreated at Bill's call.
Looking up, Jack saw that none of the bullets had hit the Pearl's sails, and that some of the men were already aloft. "All right, you dogs!" he called. "Lower topsails, hoist the jib, let's take her away. Going west, Dick!" he added, to the helmsman.
With all the crew pulling together, the sails caught the wind. The ship turned, picked up speed and was soon pulling away from the merchant vessel. One last shot came from their enemy, and then they were out of range.
Jack hurried back to Captain Flint. Bootstrap was still pressing on the captain's wound, but he looked up and shook his head as Jack approached.
"It's too bad, Jack."
Squatting down by the captain's side, Jack took a limp hand in his. "Captain? Captain?"
Flint's eyes flickered, and opened. "Jack?"
"S'me, cap'n."
"Is the Pearl ... how is she?"
"She's fine," Jack reassured Flint. "Fine."
"Pin?"
Jack squeezed the captain's hand. "Not fine. He's gone, Captain."
"Well," Flint said, and coughed, bringing up blood, "at least he'll be waiting for me."
"You can't say that, savvy?" Jack said, insistent. "Just hang on."
"I'm done for, Jack," Flint said. His skin was pale and greyish, and his grip on Jack's hand failing. "It's been a good life, I've no regrets." He coughed again. "The Black Pearl's yours, lad." Jack found he had no words, and squeezed the captain's hand again. "Captain ... Jack Sparrow ... sounds good, don't it?" Flint laughed, weakly. "Look after the old lady."
"I will," Jack said, forcing the words out. "Promise. I'll look after her."
Flint smiled, and his eyes closed. A moment later he exhaled, and breathed no more.