Mark The Earth With Ruin
Chapter 9
Emmy sat down on the narrow wooden plank that served for a bench in the small rowboat that had been moored to the side of the HMS Triton. She dusted off her hands with a grin for her companions. "This is exceedingly satisfactory. Thank you, Lizbet."
The small girl smiled sunnily up at her in the light of the lantern that sat at her feet. "You're very welcome. Papa told me my mother did it once."
Emmy tilted her head and looked up at the long rope made of braided strips of petticoat and skirt that hung from the cabin window of the Triton. "A very effective trick. She would be proud of you for remembering it."
Belle scooted over to make room for Emmy next to her. "I think, Emmy, if you takes one oar and I the other, we can make good time to shore. And you, ma p'tite, you keeps the lantern hid, all right?"
There were a few exciting moments as Emmy carefully made her way to the seat next to Belle; but once down, she and the nanny found an easy rhythm, pulling together.
"Where will we be landing, do you know?" Emmy asked, panting slightly.
Belle grinned at her. "No idea." She sobered, looking over her shoulder toward shore. "There be a house there on the hill; you can see the lights. And cabins down below." She shook her head. "Slave cabins, I has no doubt. Some kind of plantation, then."
Emmy made a moue of distaste. "I dislike slavery both in concept and in practice. But perhaps the people who live there can offer us assistance to return to Port Royal." She shrugged. "It can't hurt to ask, at any rate."
~*~
Ana floated quietly under the dock, the white of her shirt effectively camouflaged by the huge piling in front of her. She saw the prisoners unloaded, their bare feet plodding listlessly over her head, followed by a pair of feet as big as oars and two pairs of familiar boots. Her dark eyes narrowed, but she bided her time.
Port Royal could wait until she was sure there was nothing she could do herself, she thought. Ana waited until she was sure she was clear, then waded carefully to shore, hugging the shadows.
There were cabins near the beach a short way off; a silhouetted crowd was being herded that way. Ana nodded to herself and crept toward the main house, looking for any sign of Jack.
There he was, being taken down those steps. Ana's lips thinned in irritation. 'Twould be nigh impossible to break him out of a dungeon. She moved quickly back toward cover, thinking carefully as she circled the area.
Like Gibbs, Ana had recognized the coast of Jamaica as they approached; by her reckoning 'twould be a fairish journey to attempt on foot. Even if help was to be had, she'd return no sooner than the following day, and that was not acceptab—
Her eyes went wide. Surely that was a whipping post, not a poteau-mitan, and yet – Ana approached the clearing cautiously. Aye, she thought. This was indeed a peristyle, a vodoun temple. But not like any she'd ever seen. This one was for Petro, the left-handed magic. The way of evil.
Ana shivered. There was no time to go to Port Royal, or anywhere else. She had to get Jack away from here. Now.
~*~
Jack shook his head, disbelieving. "You can't be her. 'Tis impossible."
Annie smiled. "Unlikely, perhaps, but clearly not impossible. As you see."
"She – you – no. She was a woman grown when I was just a lad. And Maman killed her. I was there. I remember," he protested.
She nodded. "Aye, Jack, you were there. You were mine, for a little. And now you'll be mine again." Annie glanced at Nicodemus. "Mark him. And then bring him to me." She disappeared into the shadows again; after a few moments they could hear a door being shut.
The four crewmen tightened their grasp, dragging Jack forward, toward the brazier. Jack struggled and cursed, his eyes wild.
"You'll not do this!" he spat out. "Damn you all!"
They silenced him by forcing a piece of wood between his teeth and tying it secure with a rag around his head. Jack's arms were jerked behind him and a large plank was slid between them and his torso, pulling the shackles taut across his abdomen. Nicodemus hit at the backs of Jack's knees with an iron bar he'd picked up from somewhere, and Jack went down hard.
He roared with rage around the wood clenched in his jaw. His captors shoved his shoulders forward, so that Jack's face was nearly in the hot coals. He began to sweat, his breath coming harshly through his nose.
Nicodemus lifted the brand, twirling it in front of Jack's eyes. "Scared, are ye, Jack Sparrow?"
Hell yes. Jack watched the brand as Nicodemus lifted it up and out of sight.
He felt the fabric of his shirt give way as they grasped the collar and tore it down his back, exposing a shoulder blade. Jack could feel the heat coming off the glowing iron as the metal hovered over his shoulder.
"Heh," said Nicodemus, and brought the brand down.
There was a searing explosion of burning agony as Jack's skin blistered and blackened and shriveled; he bit down on the wood hard, screaming his throat raw against the excruciating torture.
Below him, the small muslin bag he wore fell abruptly from the tatters of his shirt and dangled in the brazier, beginning to smoke.
Nicodemus stepped back and Jack was dragged to his feet. They untied the rag and he spat out the wood, breathing hard. The muslin bag swung against his chest, still smoldering slightly.
The captain of the Seraph turned to Zaid. "Ye're next, laddie," he said, leering. "'Tis lucky ye are, t' have the mistress notice ye. Means she's got somethin' special in mind fer ye."
The crewmen pulled an unresisting Zaid toward the brazier. Meekly he knelt for them, clasping his hands in front of him. They looked at each other and shrugged, discarding the plank and the wooden gag.
And then Zaid gave Jack the merest glance from the corner of his dark eyes.
Jack tensed.
Nicodemus leaned over the huge slave, the branding iron in his hand.
With a sudden roar Zaid erupted like a small volcano, jerking forward the legs of the tripod on which the brazier was balanced and leaping over it as it crashed to the floor, igniting the hay strewn there. The astonished crewmen jumped back from the blazing coals. Zaid spun neatly and lashed out with one callused foot, kicking the scorching brazier through the air toward Nicodemus and his cohorts in a huge shower of sparks.
Jack took the opportunity to fling the chains of his shackles around the throat of one of the crewmen and twisted sharply, snapping the man's neck. He put his boot at the base of the new corpse's spine and shoved the dead weight into the other two facing him, knocking them to the blazing floor.
The door to the smaller cell burst open; several more of Nicodemus' crew surged forward, swords at the ready. Behind them Jack could see his bo'sun and the others, still imprisoned.
"Gibbs!" he shouted.
"Get out o' here, Cap'n! Get out if ye can!"
An enormous brown hand covered the top of his head and pushed Jack down as a massive fist followed it, turning the face of the sailor nearest Jack into a red mess. Jack turned to see Zaid looking down at him.
"Time to go," the huge slave said with a nod. He bent and grabbed the iron bar Nicodemus had dropped and gave an eager attacker a thwack.
"Aye," said Jack shortly, scooping up the plank, the end of which was now ablaze, and swinging it in a wide arc as he and the black man backed away. "I'll be back for you, Gibbs!" he shouted, throwing the blazing lumber toward the enemy.
Jack then had the disconcerting experience of being picked up and tucked under a mammoth arm as though he were no more than a small valise, as Zaid ran down the passage into which Annie Palmer had disappeared.
They found another heavy wooden door a short distance away; Zaid dodged through and slammed down the bar.
He wanted to protest, but Jack couldn't find the breath as Zaid pounded through the tunnel, carrying Jack under his arm. There seemed to be several forks and twists, all of which the African navigated at top speed and at random, as far as Jack could tell, effectively confusing the path of their flight.
Zaid was not an ungraceful runner, but he was preternaturally large, and Jack's head began to feel as though it would rattle off momentarily and roll away. At last they burst from the dank underground into the middle of a forest, and Zaid slowed long enough to put the pirate captain down.
Jack gulped in air, bent double, his palms on his thighs. "Damme, lad, you nearly bounced me to death." He reached out a hand and clasped the larger man's forearm. "I'll not forget what you've done for me, Zaid. You have my thanks."
"I am only sorry I could not act sooner," Zaid rumbled quietly. "If they had taken me first you would not have had to bear such pain, but I could think of no way to encourage them to do so without arousing their suspicions."
"Aye." Jack gulped a bit more, then prodded the other man in the back. "We'd best keep moving." His companion nodded, and they sought the refuge of the shadowed forest surrounding Rose Hall.