Passage to St. Kitts

Chapter 12

The next morning dawned calm and bright. Perfect weather for what Jack had in mind. The crews of both the Black Pearl and the Defender gathered on the main deck to watch. Gillette had protested Jack's plan, but in the end had acquiesced. Two husky members of the Pearl's crew held Carey's arms. Jack swaggered forward into center stage. "You all know that this man," he indicated Carey, "insulted my lady. And for this insult, I demand satisfaction." Taking out a pair of leather gloves, he strolled up to Carey, adding an additional swish to his stride, and slapped him with the gloves across the face. "Are you man enough to take up the challenge?"

Carey's fair skin flushed with rage. "Aye, I'll meet you, you filthy knave!"

Jack grinned in feral satisfaction and flourished the gloves. "Ah, excellent! I propose that we meet immediately." He turned to Will, who was standing, arms folded against the rail. "Mr. Turner, sir! Will you do me the honor of being my second?"

Will raised his eyebrow. Jack was in rare form this morning. "The honor is mine, Captain Sparrow," he answered formally. "Mr. Carey, have you a second?"

Carey looked over at one of the sailors who nodded. "Jensen will act for me."

Will nodded. "Very good. Mr. Jensen, shall we measure out the field?" If Jack wanted to do this with meticulous and foppish formality, Will would oblige. Carefully he and Jensen paced off the clear space on the deck. The crew of the Pearl watched in anticipation, snickering among themselves. Will distinctly saw money changing hands. He was sure the crew wasn't betting on the outcome of the fight, only how long it would take Jack to completely humiliate his opponent.

Returning to the center of the cleared area, Will announced the size of the field, and requested the two combatants to step forward. Carey stomped forward, holding his sword ready. Jack minced forward, and bowed elaborately before drawing his weapon. Will drew his own sword and held it between the two opponents. "Are you ready gentlemen?" With Carey's brusque nod and Jack's precisely inclined head, Will raised his sword out of the way and stepped back. "Then do your battle, gentlemen."

Carey attacked at once, and Jack neatly parried his blade. Again Carey attacked, and again Jack parried the thrust without going on the offensive. Elizabeth edged over to where Gwen was watching and asked uneasily "He's not going to kill him, is he?"

Gwen shook her head slightly. "I don't think so. He just wants to make him look like a fool."

Elizabeth smiled. "He's already done that." Spying a bit of lace peeking out of Gwen's bodice, she twitched the handkerchief out before Gwen could stop her. "Captain Sparrow," she called dulcetly, "a favor from your lady." She presented the handkerchief with a flourish.

Laughter gleamed in Jack's eyes, and between parries of almost textbook preciseness, he took the lace-trimmed handkerchief from Elizabeth's hand and pressed it reverently to his lips. "Thank you, my dear," he called, waving the handkerchief foppishly. The sight was too much for the gravity of most of the Pearl's crew, and they collapsed in laughter. Will, trying to maintain the seriousness expected of a second, was unable to keep a straight face and had to turn away. Most of the Defender's crew was fighting laughter as well. Carey, knowing himself to be the butt of the joke turned even redder, and redoubled the ferocity of his attacks.

Jack merrily blocked thrust after thrust, skipping nimbly over the deck. His sword slipped under Carey's guard, and a thin red line appeared on the front of Carey's shirt. "Oh!" he said in feigned concern. "You aren't hurt are you?" When Carey merely growled and swung his sword again, Jack merely said in false relief "Oh, good," waved his handkerchief and continued fighting. By this time the majority of the spectators, privateers and military alike, were laughing so hard tears were streaming down their faces.

"For God's sake make an end, Jack!" called Gwen, laughing uncontrollably. "We can't endure much more!"

"For you, my love," called Jack extravagantly, "I would conquer the world!" Flourishing the handkerchief, he leapt forward and pressed the attack, his sword flashing in the sunlight. Carey parried as best he could, but the deadly point seemed to be everywhere at once. Four times the point flicked over his face, before he felt a ribbon of fire burn through his shoulder. Dropping his sword, Carey fell senseless to the deck.

Will walked over and looked down at Jack's fallen opponent. Out of the corner of his eye he could see money changing hands again as bets were paid off. He glared at the four neat lines on the man's face; two parallel cuts on each side. "You had to do me one better, didn't you?" he asked disgustedly.

Jack flourished the handkerchief again. "Three better, my dear boy. A nice concept, but it needed a bit of improvement." He wiped his sword on Carey's coat and carefully sheathed it, then fell to his knees in front of Gwen, extravagantly taking her hand and kissing it before pressing the handkerchief back into it. "For your gentle inspiration, darling, my undying thanks."

"Get up you idiot," said Gwen blushing furiously and pulling her hand away.

Jack grinned wolfishly and got to his feet, leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. "As my lady commands." He kissed her again and said in a more serious tone. "You'll look at his shoulder, won't you luv?" With a final grin tossed over his shoulder, Captain Jack Sparrow strode off. "Back to work, mates! The entertainment is done for today."

--

Cautiously, Antonia crept down the stairs to the brig. Norrington lay within the cell, his face turned away. "Commodore?" she said tentatively. "Commodore, are you all right?" She stifled a gasp as Norrington turned his head her way. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and his lip was split, trickling blood down his chin. "Dear lord, what have they done to you?"

Norrington raised himself painfully onto his elbow, and tried to smile reassuringly at the horrified girl on the far side of the cell bars. "Friendly persuasion. Think nothing of it Miss de Salazar. As far as coercion goes, this is fairly mild."

"Mild?" she said indignantly. "You look dreadful! And from how you're moving I wouldn't be surprised if they'd broken your ribs!"

"Cracked, only." Said Norrington. "Please forgive me for not rising."

"You had better not!" snapped Antonia, suddenly out of patience with him. "You wait right there!" Turning, she ran up the stairs.

The Commodore chuckled weakly. What a ridiculous thing to say to a man locked in a cell.

It seemed only a moment later when Antonia was back. She held a basket in one hand, and a ring of keys in the other. "I stole these from the Captain's cabin, " she said matter-of-factly as she unlocked the door.

"Are you mad, girl?" hissed Norrington. "Do you realize what sort of trouble you'll get into if he notices these gone?"

"He won't," said Antonia confidently. "It's his watch at the helm. I'll have them back before he notices." She looked at him apologetically. "I can't let you out of course."

Norrington shrugged. "Since we're at sea, it scarcely matters if you did."

Antonia set down the basket and got out clean rags and jars of ointment, and proceeded to doctor his hurts as best she could. "Take off your shirt, please," she ordered.

Norrington looked affronted. "Miss de Salazar, I hardly think it appropriate for you."

"Spare me your concern for my maidenly modesty," she said dryly, "and take off your shirt so I can bind your ribs." When he still made no move to do so, she shrugged. "Very well then," and began unbuttoning his waistcoat herself. Norrington pushed her hands away and began unbuttoning it himself, hoping that he wasn't blushing. Antonia merely sat back on her heels and watched as he stripped off the waistcoat and shirt. Running her fingers along his ribs she prodded them here and there. "Tell me when it hurts," she murmured. After a moment she nodded. "You were correct, one or two are cracked, but that is all." Taking a roll of cloth from the basket she wrapped it around him tightly enough to support the injured ribs. "I have a draught here that will help with the pain," she said as she finished binding. "I wish I was able to offer you a more comfortable bed, but I don't dare bring anything here that they could see. As it is, keep the bindings hidden beneath your clothing so they aren't visible." Antonia helped him back into his shirt and waistcoat.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Norrington curiously. "Shouldn't you rejoice in the downfall of an enemy?"

Antonia handed him the cup with the draught and watched him drink it. "Enemy? Who is my enemy? You? You have always treated me with courtesy."

Norrington drained the cup and handed it back to her. "I am English. That makes me an enemy of the Spanish."

Antonia put the cup back into the basket. "My father, my real father that is, was English."

Norrington stared in surprise. "I thought your father was Don Bartolome de Salazar?"

Antonia smiled bitterly. "My mother eloped with an Englishman. Her father and brothers followed, killed him and brought her back. She was forced to wed Don Bartolome six weeks later," Antonia looked up at him, "already carrying me. In truth I should not call myself Senorita de Salazar. They were married, my real parents, though not for more than a day or so."

Norrington smiled at her. You should go, my dear, before you're discovered in here with me. I would not like to be the cause of you getting in trouble." He took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you, Miss de Salazar."

She smiled, "Since I don't really have a right to that name, perhaps you should call me Antonia."

He kissed her hand again, stroking her fingers and touching the gold ring she wore. "Perhaps I shall."