Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: Zwarte Perel said in her last review "I wonder if Barbossa will be along soon". Now, I wasn't going to bring him in for another couple of chapters, but then once the suggestion had been made, I realised it did make sense for him to come in now. So here he is; thanks, Zwarte!
----
"Ahoy there! Ahoy!"
Jack took his telescope from his sash and put his eye to it, pointing it towards the source of the shouts.
"Ahoy!"
"What is it, cap'n?" Dick Welsh asked.
Squinting, Jack frowned. "Shipwreck. Men on shore ... lot of wreckage." He closed the telescope. "Seems someone wasn't as lucky as us in that storm the other night."
"We do seem to have uncommon luck," Welsh mused. "What'll you do, cap'n?"
"Take her in," Jack ordered. "We'll pick 'em up." He turned, and called to the nearest man. "I want depth sounding, mate."
The crew member nodded, and went to fetch the heavy lead weight on the end of a rope that measured the depth of the water.
They lowered the topsails and crept into shore, the short journey punctuated by the soundings: "Fifteen fathom! Eleven! Nine!" At five fathoms, Jack ordered the anchor to be released, and it rattled into the water. The Black Pearl came to a halt.
The boats were lowered, and rowed to shore. Jack went with one of them, keen to see the shipwrecked mariners up close before he allowed them on board his ship.
All along the beach there were bits of timber, once part of a vessel, now mere driftwood. The ship had obviously been dashed on the shoals further out, which the smaller longboats from the Pearl had negotiated easily, before the remains had been washed ashore. Jack shook his head in sorrow as he looked at the pieces; a once graceful vessel reduced to planks.
They pulled the boats up near the shipwrecked men, who had stood up to greet their rescuers. It was clear that they were neither naval men nor merchants - this was a ragtag group. Their clothes were well worn and their beards long and shaggy. Gold teeth gleamed as they smiled at the crew of the Pearl in relief.
"We be right glad to see you," the group's leader said. Standing to the forefront of the dozen or so men, he was taller than most, and sported a frizzy beard just beginning to go grey. "Saw a couple of other vessels pass by, but we didn't dare hail them for fear we'd be taken aboard and strung up."
"Of the buccaneer persuasion?" Jack asked, though it was obvious.
"Aye, we are," the leader said. He held out a hand. "Barbossa. Mate of the Endurance."
"That'd be the bonny ship scattered over this beach, would it?" Jack said.
Barbossa shrugged. "Aye, it would."
"And your captain?"
"Got washed overboard in the storm." The man who spoke was a tall, imposing black man covered in tattoos, his chest bare. He loomed over Jack, who leaned back to see his face, grinned at him, and stepped back.
"So you're the leader of this merry band, Barbossa?" he asked. "Looking for a way off this island, I guess?"
"You'd guess right," Barbossa replied. "Especially if you're bound for Tortuga."
"We'll take you," Jack said. "As far as Tortuga. You'll work your passage. Could maybe take a few men on after that, if you're looking for a ship, but not all of you."
"Your captain knows you're saying this, does he?" asked Barbossa, tipping his head on one side.
The men from the Pearl exchanged glances.
"Absolutely," said Jack, hand waving vaguely in the air. "We're of one mind, he and me. Are the terms agreeable?"
"They are," Barbossa said, looking round at the other shipwrecked pirates, and receiving their nods, shaking Jack's hand.
They rowed back to the Black Pearl, and the new sailors came aboard, looking over the ship with interest.
"Black sails, eh?" said Barbossa, gazing upwards.
"She's not called the Black Pearl for nothing," Jack returned. "There are spare hammocks below, if you want to stow your stuff."
Barbossa threw Jack a curious look, but followed Dick Welsh below decks. Jack turned to Bootstrap Bill. "We're taking them to Tortuga. When they come back up, tell 'em the captain wants to see them."
"All of them?" asked Bootstrap. Jack was already walking away, and he looked over his shoulder, and tossed back:
"Just their leader ... Barbed Toast, or whatever he calls himself."
"Aye, sir!" Bill called.
Going down to his cabin, and flinging open one of the windows, Jack settled down to writing up the ship's log. He had covered many pages since becoming captain two years earlier, and though they were splodged with ink and the spelling left something to be desired, the accounts made for interesting reading.
There was a knock on the door, and Jack put down his quill. "Come in!" he said.
The door swung open, and Barbossa stepped into the cabin. For a moment, a flash of surprise crossed his face on seeing Jack, but he mastered himself quickly and closed the door before standing with his hands behind his back.
"So you're the elusive captain, are you?" he said.
Jack closed the log, and stood up. "Aye. Captain Jack Sparrow, that's me. Found your quarters satisfactory, Mr Barbossa?"
"Perfectly, thank'ee," said Barbossa. "Just Barbossa."
Waving a hand, Jack sat down again. "Have a seat, Just Barbossa."
Barbossa pulled out a chair and sat down, while Jack reached for a banana from the bowl in the centre of the table, and peeled it slowly. Taking a bite, he gestured vaguely towards Barbossa with the fruit.
"So, the Endurance," he said. "Been aboard her long?"
"Five year or so," Barbossa replied. "Good ship."
"And you were, what? First mate?"
"Aye."
"Well," said Jack, swallowing a mouthful of banana and throwing the empty skin accurately out of the open window, "I've got a good couple o' mates and aren't looking for another. So you'll have to be a simple crewman aboard the Black Pearl, savvy?"
"Simple pirate it is," Barbossa drawled. Jack wondered why a man with such an unusual name had such a strong West Country accent, but then considered that he himself no longer appeared English, and put the incongruities down to a life at sea.
"Simple pirate," he agreed, and opened the log at the page he was writing. "If you could just inscribe your name on behalf of your men - ship's articles and so forth ..." He handed Barbossa the quill, and the other man signed, messily, underneath his name and the name of the wrecked Endurance.
Over the next week, as the Black Pearl beat her way towards Tortuga, Barbossa and his men made themselves useful aboard the ship. They were willing and able to fulfil all the tasks set to them, and indeed were invaluable when the ship hit another storm. With the extra men, the crew were able to reef all the sails in double-quick time, and the Pearl came out undamaged.
But Jack found himself not entirely trusting the shipwrecked pirates. Barbossa himself was polite and efficient and respectful, but some of his crewmates were less so. They looked askance at Jack, and barely spoke to the crew of the Pearl. Jack did not mind the odd looks - after all, by now he was used to people giving him curious glances - but he did mind affronts to his men. But when he voiced his concerns to Bootstrap, Bill Turner merely shrugged.
"Two crews bashed together, Jack. They're not going to make a whole, just like that."
"They could try to be friendly, at least," Jack said, trimming his nails with a dagger.
Bootstrap shook his head. "They're leavin' at Tortuga. Few days, we'll be rid of them. Don't let it worry you, Jack - t'ain't worrying the men."
He downed his cup of rum, and giving Jack a friendly grin, left the cabin.
Despite Bill's reassurance, Jack was glad to see the back of the extra men in Tortuga. He did not offer any of them a permanent berth on board the Black Pearl. But he did shake hands with Barbossa, and reckoned that should he need an experienced sailor in the future, he would know where to go.
They spent several days on the island. The vessel needed some minor repairs, and the men a rest, and there were more storms brewing. Jack, as usual, slept on board his beloved ship, while the men spent their time and their money in the town's taverns.
During the day, he supervised the repairs, and traded off some of the Black Pearl's hoard of loot. He saw Barbossa and some of his fellows sail off in the direction of the mainland. The time in harbour sped by, occupied as he was.
On the penultimate day in Tortuga, two things happened.
The first was at about ten in the morning. Jack was counting barrels of salt fish and cases of biscuits in the hold, when footsteps sounded on the steps, and Bootstrap appeared.
"Got to talk to you," he said. In his hand was a sheet of paper.
They went up on deck, where Bill paced and Jack leaned on the rail.
"Well?" said Jack.
"I got a letter from England," Bootstrap began, holding the sheet of paper up. "Dunno how it got to me - bloody miracle, if you ask my opinion - but I have to go home. Elsie's ill, and there's nobody to look after ..." he paused, and dragged a sleeve end over his eyes, "to look after me son. I have a son, Jack."
"Lad got a name?"
"Elsie called him after me. Little Will, she calls him, but he's William Turner like his dad. And I've never seen him. More'n five years away, and I've not seen my son. And I wanted to be a decent father to the lad, an' a good husband to Elsie. I've got to go home, Jack."
Jack nodded. "I suppose you do. I'm sorry, Bill. You'll come back, when you're ready. Always a place for you aboard the old Pearl, savvy?"
"Savvy." Bill smiled, ruefully. "Well, there's a ship bound for England this afternoon. I'd better go." He tucked his letter into a pocket. "Been a pleasure serving under you, Captain Sparrow."
"Pleasure having you aboard, Mr Turner," Jack replied in like fashion.
They shook hands, and Bill hurried down the gangplank and away. Jack turned morosely back to counting supplies.
But the afternoon brought better news. By this stage, Jack was halfway up the mainmast checking rigging, and so absorbed in the lines and canvas that he failed to notice the new arrival on the deck below him. He did, however, hear the call from the bottom of the mast, and was down the rigging in record time.
The figure waiting for him, in shirt, breeches and hat, was almost unrecognisable. But it took off the hat, shaking out a mane of black hair, and smiled nervously at Jack.
"Welcome aboard, Anamaria," Jack said.
She twisted the hat in her hands. "I heard you were back."
"As you see." He gestured, grandly. "As lovely as ever, ain't she?"
Anamaria fidgeted. Jack examined her, and privately decided that his former crewmate was decidedly more lovely than ever. The girl had become a woman; her figure had filled out and her features matured. A smile crossed Jack's lips as he looked her up and down, and Anamaria folded her arms across her chest defensively.
"Don't look at me like that, Jack Sparrow."
"Like what, love?"
She shook her head in exasperation. "You have not changed."
"Would you want me to?"
"No," she admitted. She put her hat back on her head. "I heard ... that Captain Flint was killed."
"Aye." Jack nodded. "Got revenge on the culprit, but we miss him sore."
"And I heard that you were captain, now," Anamaria continued. "True?"
"True," he confirmed. "Captain Jack Sparrow, of the fair ship the Black Pearl."
"Then, captain," Anamaria said, "I'd like to ask to join your crew. I'm a good sailor."
"Should be," said Jack, "as I taught you half o' what you know. Happens I have a space, and I'd be pleased if you'd take it."
She smiled, properly this time. "Thank you, Jack."
"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he reminded her.
"Thank you, captain," Anamaria repeated.
Jack grinned, and led her down to the captain's cabin to sign the ship's articles.
Author's note: Zwarte Perel said in her last review "I wonder if Barbossa will be along soon". Now, I wasn't going to bring him in for another couple of chapters, but then once the suggestion had been made, I realised it did make sense for him to come in now. So here he is; thanks, Zwarte!
----
"Ahoy there! Ahoy!"
Jack took his telescope from his sash and put his eye to it, pointing it towards the source of the shouts.
"Ahoy!"
"What is it, cap'n?" Dick Welsh asked.
Squinting, Jack frowned. "Shipwreck. Men on shore ... lot of wreckage." He closed the telescope. "Seems someone wasn't as lucky as us in that storm the other night."
"We do seem to have uncommon luck," Welsh mused. "What'll you do, cap'n?"
"Take her in," Jack ordered. "We'll pick 'em up." He turned, and called to the nearest man. "I want depth sounding, mate."
The crew member nodded, and went to fetch the heavy lead weight on the end of a rope that measured the depth of the water.
They lowered the topsails and crept into shore, the short journey punctuated by the soundings: "Fifteen fathom! Eleven! Nine!" At five fathoms, Jack ordered the anchor to be released, and it rattled into the water. The Black Pearl came to a halt.
The boats were lowered, and rowed to shore. Jack went with one of them, keen to see the shipwrecked mariners up close before he allowed them on board his ship.
All along the beach there were bits of timber, once part of a vessel, now mere driftwood. The ship had obviously been dashed on the shoals further out, which the smaller longboats from the Pearl had negotiated easily, before the remains had been washed ashore. Jack shook his head in sorrow as he looked at the pieces; a once graceful vessel reduced to planks.
They pulled the boats up near the shipwrecked men, who had stood up to greet their rescuers. It was clear that they were neither naval men nor merchants - this was a ragtag group. Their clothes were well worn and their beards long and shaggy. Gold teeth gleamed as they smiled at the crew of the Pearl in relief.
"We be right glad to see you," the group's leader said. Standing to the forefront of the dozen or so men, he was taller than most, and sported a frizzy beard just beginning to go grey. "Saw a couple of other vessels pass by, but we didn't dare hail them for fear we'd be taken aboard and strung up."
"Of the buccaneer persuasion?" Jack asked, though it was obvious.
"Aye, we are," the leader said. He held out a hand. "Barbossa. Mate of the Endurance."
"That'd be the bonny ship scattered over this beach, would it?" Jack said.
Barbossa shrugged. "Aye, it would."
"And your captain?"
"Got washed overboard in the storm." The man who spoke was a tall, imposing black man covered in tattoos, his chest bare. He loomed over Jack, who leaned back to see his face, grinned at him, and stepped back.
"So you're the leader of this merry band, Barbossa?" he asked. "Looking for a way off this island, I guess?"
"You'd guess right," Barbossa replied. "Especially if you're bound for Tortuga."
"We'll take you," Jack said. "As far as Tortuga. You'll work your passage. Could maybe take a few men on after that, if you're looking for a ship, but not all of you."
"Your captain knows you're saying this, does he?" asked Barbossa, tipping his head on one side.
The men from the Pearl exchanged glances.
"Absolutely," said Jack, hand waving vaguely in the air. "We're of one mind, he and me. Are the terms agreeable?"
"They are," Barbossa said, looking round at the other shipwrecked pirates, and receiving their nods, shaking Jack's hand.
They rowed back to the Black Pearl, and the new sailors came aboard, looking over the ship with interest.
"Black sails, eh?" said Barbossa, gazing upwards.
"She's not called the Black Pearl for nothing," Jack returned. "There are spare hammocks below, if you want to stow your stuff."
Barbossa threw Jack a curious look, but followed Dick Welsh below decks. Jack turned to Bootstrap Bill. "We're taking them to Tortuga. When they come back up, tell 'em the captain wants to see them."
"All of them?" asked Bootstrap. Jack was already walking away, and he looked over his shoulder, and tossed back:
"Just their leader ... Barbed Toast, or whatever he calls himself."
"Aye, sir!" Bill called.
Going down to his cabin, and flinging open one of the windows, Jack settled down to writing up the ship's log. He had covered many pages since becoming captain two years earlier, and though they were splodged with ink and the spelling left something to be desired, the accounts made for interesting reading.
There was a knock on the door, and Jack put down his quill. "Come in!" he said.
The door swung open, and Barbossa stepped into the cabin. For a moment, a flash of surprise crossed his face on seeing Jack, but he mastered himself quickly and closed the door before standing with his hands behind his back.
"So you're the elusive captain, are you?" he said.
Jack closed the log, and stood up. "Aye. Captain Jack Sparrow, that's me. Found your quarters satisfactory, Mr Barbossa?"
"Perfectly, thank'ee," said Barbossa. "Just Barbossa."
Waving a hand, Jack sat down again. "Have a seat, Just Barbossa."
Barbossa pulled out a chair and sat down, while Jack reached for a banana from the bowl in the centre of the table, and peeled it slowly. Taking a bite, he gestured vaguely towards Barbossa with the fruit.
"So, the Endurance," he said. "Been aboard her long?"
"Five year or so," Barbossa replied. "Good ship."
"And you were, what? First mate?"
"Aye."
"Well," said Jack, swallowing a mouthful of banana and throwing the empty skin accurately out of the open window, "I've got a good couple o' mates and aren't looking for another. So you'll have to be a simple crewman aboard the Black Pearl, savvy?"
"Simple pirate it is," Barbossa drawled. Jack wondered why a man with such an unusual name had such a strong West Country accent, but then considered that he himself no longer appeared English, and put the incongruities down to a life at sea.
"Simple pirate," he agreed, and opened the log at the page he was writing. "If you could just inscribe your name on behalf of your men - ship's articles and so forth ..." He handed Barbossa the quill, and the other man signed, messily, underneath his name and the name of the wrecked Endurance.
Over the next week, as the Black Pearl beat her way towards Tortuga, Barbossa and his men made themselves useful aboard the ship. They were willing and able to fulfil all the tasks set to them, and indeed were invaluable when the ship hit another storm. With the extra men, the crew were able to reef all the sails in double-quick time, and the Pearl came out undamaged.
But Jack found himself not entirely trusting the shipwrecked pirates. Barbossa himself was polite and efficient and respectful, but some of his crewmates were less so. They looked askance at Jack, and barely spoke to the crew of the Pearl. Jack did not mind the odd looks - after all, by now he was used to people giving him curious glances - but he did mind affronts to his men. But when he voiced his concerns to Bootstrap, Bill Turner merely shrugged.
"Two crews bashed together, Jack. They're not going to make a whole, just like that."
"They could try to be friendly, at least," Jack said, trimming his nails with a dagger.
Bootstrap shook his head. "They're leavin' at Tortuga. Few days, we'll be rid of them. Don't let it worry you, Jack - t'ain't worrying the men."
He downed his cup of rum, and giving Jack a friendly grin, left the cabin.
Despite Bill's reassurance, Jack was glad to see the back of the extra men in Tortuga. He did not offer any of them a permanent berth on board the Black Pearl. But he did shake hands with Barbossa, and reckoned that should he need an experienced sailor in the future, he would know where to go.
They spent several days on the island. The vessel needed some minor repairs, and the men a rest, and there were more storms brewing. Jack, as usual, slept on board his beloved ship, while the men spent their time and their money in the town's taverns.
During the day, he supervised the repairs, and traded off some of the Black Pearl's hoard of loot. He saw Barbossa and some of his fellows sail off in the direction of the mainland. The time in harbour sped by, occupied as he was.
On the penultimate day in Tortuga, two things happened.
The first was at about ten in the morning. Jack was counting barrels of salt fish and cases of biscuits in the hold, when footsteps sounded on the steps, and Bootstrap appeared.
"Got to talk to you," he said. In his hand was a sheet of paper.
They went up on deck, where Bill paced and Jack leaned on the rail.
"Well?" said Jack.
"I got a letter from England," Bootstrap began, holding the sheet of paper up. "Dunno how it got to me - bloody miracle, if you ask my opinion - but I have to go home. Elsie's ill, and there's nobody to look after ..." he paused, and dragged a sleeve end over his eyes, "to look after me son. I have a son, Jack."
"Lad got a name?"
"Elsie called him after me. Little Will, she calls him, but he's William Turner like his dad. And I've never seen him. More'n five years away, and I've not seen my son. And I wanted to be a decent father to the lad, an' a good husband to Elsie. I've got to go home, Jack."
Jack nodded. "I suppose you do. I'm sorry, Bill. You'll come back, when you're ready. Always a place for you aboard the old Pearl, savvy?"
"Savvy." Bill smiled, ruefully. "Well, there's a ship bound for England this afternoon. I'd better go." He tucked his letter into a pocket. "Been a pleasure serving under you, Captain Sparrow."
"Pleasure having you aboard, Mr Turner," Jack replied in like fashion.
They shook hands, and Bill hurried down the gangplank and away. Jack turned morosely back to counting supplies.
But the afternoon brought better news. By this stage, Jack was halfway up the mainmast checking rigging, and so absorbed in the lines and canvas that he failed to notice the new arrival on the deck below him. He did, however, hear the call from the bottom of the mast, and was down the rigging in record time.
The figure waiting for him, in shirt, breeches and hat, was almost unrecognisable. But it took off the hat, shaking out a mane of black hair, and smiled nervously at Jack.
"Welcome aboard, Anamaria," Jack said.
She twisted the hat in her hands. "I heard you were back."
"As you see." He gestured, grandly. "As lovely as ever, ain't she?"
Anamaria fidgeted. Jack examined her, and privately decided that his former crewmate was decidedly more lovely than ever. The girl had become a woman; her figure had filled out and her features matured. A smile crossed Jack's lips as he looked her up and down, and Anamaria folded her arms across her chest defensively.
"Don't look at me like that, Jack Sparrow."
"Like what, love?"
She shook her head in exasperation. "You have not changed."
"Would you want me to?"
"No," she admitted. She put her hat back on her head. "I heard ... that Captain Flint was killed."
"Aye." Jack nodded. "Got revenge on the culprit, but we miss him sore."
"And I heard that you were captain, now," Anamaria continued. "True?"
"True," he confirmed. "Captain Jack Sparrow, of the fair ship the Black Pearl."
"Then, captain," Anamaria said, "I'd like to ask to join your crew. I'm a good sailor."
"Should be," said Jack, "as I taught you half o' what you know. Happens I have a space, and I'd be pleased if you'd take it."
She smiled, properly this time. "Thank you, Jack."
"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he reminded her.
"Thank you, captain," Anamaria repeated.
Jack grinned, and led her down to the captain's cabin to sign the ship's articles.