A/N: To answer some concerns that have been raised: I have found conflicting information on the real Annie Palmer, with some sources claiming French ancestry for her, others saying Scottish. I have chosen to go with Scottish for the extremely feeble reason that I did the French thing in the last fic.

Mark The Earth With Ruin

Chapter 5

"Hard a-port, gents," Gibbs called, his eyes steely as he swung the wheel of the Black Pearl. "Careful now. Mr. Swale, scramble aloft 'n' keep a sharp eye fer white water."

Jack ambled up the companionway with a characteristic lurch. "I gave no orders to change course, Gibbs," he called, frowning. "Oy!" he added, grabbing at his nose. "What is that bloody pong?"

"Th' Seraph, t' my way o' thinkin'," said Gibbs, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Stench o' blackbirdin'."

"Christ!" said Jack, and Gibbs nodded in emphatic agreement. Death and excrement and blood… not a pretty smell, but a distinctive one, if you happened to be looking for a slave ship.

A piercing whistle from Swale made both men look up. The young pirate gestured to a commotion in the water several yards off the port bow. Gibbs cursed succinctly and Jack slid down the gangway rail and ran forward, grabbing a gaffing hook on the way.

"Luff 'em, boys," the captain cried, and almost instantly the sails were flapping ineffectively, letting the Pearl slow. Gibbs tied off the wheel and ran to help Jack, holding his captain's belt firmly while Jack leaned far over the gunwale.

It was all Gibbs could do not to vomit at the sight before them. Bodies filled the immediate area: half-naked, starved, beaten. Slaves, poor devils, ill or rebellious. It wasn't unusual for a captain to rid himself of excess cargo this way; everyone knew the insurance on a merchant ship would cover goods lost at sea, not in port. And in blackbirding there were always goods lost, one way or another.

Sharks were at play among the dead and the near-dead alike. Jack was using the gaffing hook to tug at the bodies, trying to find any alive before the sharks got to them, but was having no luck, and Gibbs could hear his mood darkening as the gruesome task went on.

Another whistle from Swale got their attention. This time the sailor was gesturing off the starboard bow, and Gibbs and Jack ran to investigate.

"Alive, thank God," said Gibbs quietly as Jack hooked gently under the fellow's arm. He was alert enough to grab hold of the pike, and Jack pulled him quickly over and up; between him and Gibbs they had the man aboard easily.

Two of the crew lifted the weakened slave and carried him gently to the captain's cabin under Jack's barked orders, while he and Gibbs scoured the area, in vain.

Jack tossed down the hook with a curse and a sigh. "Have Ana see to him. And follow that pong. Nicodemus will pay. Tonight."

"Aye, Cap'n," Gibbs nodded.

~*~

Ana left the cabin quietly, closing the door gently behind her. Jack was at the helm; she climbed up to join him. "Any sign?" she said.

"Aye," he nodded. "On the horizon. We're hove-to for a bit."

That was odd. It wasn't like Jack to sit and wait. "Why?"

Jack took out his spyglass and peered through it. "Becalmed, they are. Or… I don't know, love, and I don't like what I don't know. So we go soft and canny." She nodded; after a moment he looked at her. "How's the lad?"

She folded her arms. "Asleep. Couldn't get a word out of him. I don't think he speaks English."

Jack nodded as though he'd expected as much. "Keep him comfortable, poor devil."

Ana smiled involuntarily. She rather liked this side of Jack. Of course it was usually after seeing this softer side that the rotten scallywag inevitably talked her into things she generally regretted.

And then she thought about the still, dark form in the bunk below.

Probably not this time.

~*~

Jack clambered up the rigging and hooked an arm around the gaff. "Anything?"

Swale nodded. "Aye, Cap'n. She's adrift fer sure. Sails a-luff, rudder swingin' free."

Jack pursed his lips. "Then we'll board her. May be more of those poor souls aboard."

Night wings in swiftly on the open sea; Jack directed the Pearl toward the drifting ship just as the sun sank below the yardarm. The sky was streaked with purple and black as she drew up along the Seraph.

Jack rubbed his nose. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something… The rest of that thought was chased away as a chorus of moans rose from the hold of the slave ship. "Gents! Grapples over; we're boarding!" In a normal tone he added to Gibbs, "Just you and I to begin with, eh?"

Gibbs nodded. "Aye, soft an' canny, Cap'n."

Two lines arced through the air, one aft and one forward, securing the gunwale of the abandoned ship to the side of the Pearl. Jack gave his mate a nod, and he and Gibbs swung across.

~*~

Anamaria leaned against the frame of the door to the captain's cabin, trying to keep an eye on her patient and on Jack at the same time, and failing. She opted to concentrate on the slave instead, for the time being; at least he was stationary. He was also, she mused, extremely large. And brawny. He wore only a loincloth, and a blanket she'd covered him with; Ana studied the ropy muscles stretched over the big man's frame. The blackbirders must have had a time keeping that one down, she thought. He'd tower over even young Will, and he's no midget.

Without warning the young black man sat up, the light blanket falling to his waist. He looked around, blinking owlishly, as though uncertain of his bearings. Ana glanced back over her shoulder, couldn't see Jack or Gibbs, and gave it up as a bad job, crossing instead to the bewildered slave.

"It's all right," she said gently. "You're safe." He stared at her blankly, and Ana sighed. She'd been right; he clearly had no idea what she was saying. She endeavored with gestures and expression to reassure him and got a weak smile in return.

Swale came in, giving their passenger a nod. "They've boarded," he said shortly to Ana. "Just the two of 'em. I don't like it."

Ana snorted. "You want to try to tell him anything? All you'll get is 'I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?' like it's some kind of armor." She huffed out a frustrated sigh. "Idiot." Swale looked affronted, and in spite of herself Ana laughed. "Not you, Swale. Sorry."

She saw, rather belatedly, that her guest was following the conversation much too closely for a man who spoke no English.

"I beg your pardon," he said. His voice was deep and resonant, his accent polished. Ana stared, her mouth dropping open as the tall slave went on. "Did I hear you correctly? You said 'Captain Jack Sparrow'?"

Ana closed her mouth with an audible snap. "I did," she said acidly, "not that I expected you to understand me."

He smiled, showing large, white teeth. "My apologies. On some occasions I have found it expedient to appear stupider than I hope, in fact, I actually am." Beyond muttering under her breath, Ana said nothing, merely staring at the man, her arms folded across her chest. He held out a hand. "My name is Zaid," he pronounced it zi-yeed, "and you are?"

For all the world as though we were at one of those bloody posh parties in Port Royal Jack makes me go to, Ana thought, taking his large hand. It folded around her slender one like a stuffed ham. "Anamaria," she said shortly. "What about Jack?"

Zaid swung his legs off the edge of the bunk, nearly taking out the captain's desk along the way. "I trust we are a goodly distance from the ship Seraph?"

"No," she replied, and dodged as Zaid got rapidly to his feet and ran to the door, narrowly avoiding several lanterns hanging from the beams overhead. Ana followed. "Hey! Come back here! What do you think you're – " but before she finished the man had crossed the deck in about three giant steps, grasped a rope, and swung out toward the Seraph.

There was sudden thunder from below, and the world shook, and tilted.

~*~

Jack whirled at the sound of cannonfire below decks, looking back toward the shuddering Pearl. Astonishment gave way to horror as a large shape hit the deck nearby with an unceremonious thud, while Jack's ship heeled hard away from the Seraph, pulling the grappling ropes taut. He had time to take two steps, no more, before he felt the unmistakable chill of a pistol muzzle at the base of his neck. He froze, his dark eyes wide.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the deck, and a figure came into Jack's line of sight. He was a big man, with skin as dark as the pitch Jack used to seal his hull, and from what Jack had heard, a soul nearly so.

"Well now," said Nicodemus around a cheroot clenched in his yellow teeth. He poked Jack in the chest. "Ye don't look so dead t' me, Jack Sparrow." He chuckled. "Not yet, anyway."

"Captain Jack Sparrow," said Jack automatically, his eyes on the Pearl.

"Is that so?" Nicodemus chuckled. "Captain o' what, I wonder? Cut 'er loose, gents, we've got what we came fer," he added. Jack made a feint toward his beloved ship as the crew of the Seraph hacked through the grappling lines and the Pearl heeled even more ominously. In a flash there was a pistol in each of Nicodemus' hands: one aimed at the center of Jack's forehead, and the second…

Ana had appeared over the gunwale of the Pearl, a musket to her shoulder. "Let them go!" she cried. The ball from Nicodemus' pistol caught her before Jack realized the man had fired. Anamaria fell into the ocean without another sound.

Her name caught in Jack's throat and he swallowed, hard. From the corner of his eye he could see Gibbs, surrounded by an array of muskets and swords. The lump on the deck, which Jack realized was their erstwhile rescuee, was hustled to his feet. Jack himself was surrounded by more of the Seraph's crew.

The slave caught Nicodemus' interest. "Ah," he said, puffing out a huge cloud of smoke. "I wondered where ye'd got to. Jumped fer it, did we?" The hulking slave made no reply, bowing his leonine head meekly and holding out his wrists for shackles. "Tch," said Nicodemus in obvious disgust. "Take the brute below, and the old man." Gibbs bridled at the description but was ignored.

Nicodemus turned his attention to Jack. "My lady will be pleased t' see ye again, Captain Sparrow."

"What do you want with me?" Jack asked angrily, struggling against the two men who held his arms. "Who are you talking about?"

The captain of the Seraph laid a long finger against his nose and took a puff from his cheroot. "Now that, Jack – I may call ye Jack, mayn't I? – that would be tellin'. I've spent too much time getting' hold of ye t' spoil things right off."

Jack glared at him, his mind ticking over quickly. "You were after me? Those poor souls in the water – "

"Bait, Jack." Nicodemus grinned. "Ye can't catch a shark without chum, eh?"

Oh, my God. Anyone who'd do something like that, just to catch one man… it boggled Jack's mind. "What does she want of me, this lady of yours?"

Nicodemus thought about it. "Let's jus' say – she wants ye t' give her a Hand." He threw back his head in glee; the laughter was still echoing as Jack was shackled and pushed into the crowded hold.