Chapter 6: Questioning

"Captain! Tom an' Robbie McGee are here, an' they want me to go home with 'em an' stay for the night! Can I please, sir?"

Jack turned to Owens and his two red-haired, freckled shadows and scowled at the three of them. "Well, I don't know. Last time you did that you brought back the blasted chicken pox!"

Tom said, "Oh, that was from Annie, our little sister, Captain Sparrow. She's all over it now!"

"Aye?" Jack said, dryly, "Well, give her my felicitations. An' tell her if she shares any more infantile maladies with me Cabin Boy we'll be usin' him for shark bait. Savvy?"

Tom and Robbie stared round eyed at Captain Sparrow, but Owens just grinned and told them, "I got it, an' then he ended up with it himself, y'see."

Jack's scowl was directed specifically at his Cabin Boy this time, as the red-haired minions tried unsuccessfully to stifle their amusement at the picture conjured up by Owens' simple words. "Not the soul of discretion today, are you, Owens?"

"Sorry, Captain," said Owens, sounding sincere in spite of his struggle to hide his own grin.

"Mmmm. Well, you can go, but be careful, an' give Annie a wide berth if she's ailin'. And be back here in the morning: I'll want your help."

"Aye, sir!"

Jack watched the three boys pound down the gangplank and break into a run as they hit the dock, heading into Tortuga and the Widow McGee's tavern. They slowed to a jaunty walk as they moved onto the street, and Jack smiled to see Owens so happy and sure of himself now. The first time Jack had taken him to meet the Widow and her offspring he'd nearly had to be dragged there, for the boy had still feared his Captain would leave him behind in spite of assurances to the contrary. Now, however, it was Owens' third visit to Tortuga (the fourth, if one counted the night they'd come for Harry at the Bride's Auction, although the boy had not been allowed off the ship that time), and he was far more confident of both Jack and himself. Still, in spite of Owens' growing friendship with the McGee boys, Jack expected his Cabin Boy would report back to the ship in the morning, as ordered. He was a good lad, and had an almost slavish admiration for Jack, a circumstance about which the pirate had mixed feelings: on the one hand it kept the boy in line, and useful as a lad his age could be; on the other, Jack was rather uncomfortable being 'set on a pedestal', as the saying went. The pirate sometimes thought he should harden his heart and send the boy off to a place where he could be raised with good schooling, and the chance of a career that did not run foul of the law. He was a bright boy, was Owens, and would do well, if given the chance. And Jack was very nearly in a position to give him such a chance.

The last month had been one of considerable success for the Black Pearl. They had not made it out to the western Caribbean, as Jack had originally planned. The Spanish treasure ship of his dreams would have to wait. They had run into no less than three heavily laden merchant vessels in the last few weeks, and the taking of each had been exciting and most profitable.

There had been a few deaths, one among the Pearl's crew which still haunted Jack a bit: a young fellow named Garrett who'd not been with them long and had unluckily run into a very experienced swordsman on the second ship. Jack had dispatched the swordsman, but it had been too late for Garrett, who had already been mortally wounded. Jack had ordered that the lad be taken back to the Black Pearl, thinking there might be a chance for him, but no: on closer inspection of the wound, he knew Garrett was a dead man. After seeing to the swag, Jack had gone down to the crew's quarters and had stayed until Garrett passed, at about midnight. The fellow hadn't been in terrible pain, fortunately; but his life just seemed to fade away somehow. And, as he'd wanted to talk, Jack had stayed to listen, and to oblige him with stories of treasure, and adventure, the Pearl and the sea, and, at the last, of home and loved ones waiting.

Still, that had been virtually the only black spot in the whole month, and at the end of it they'd made their way back to Tortuga, as heavy laden as a merchantman themselves! Definitely time to offload cargo: how could the Pearl be the fastest ship in the Caribbean when she was dragging about all that swag? Jack smiled to himself, thinking of the profit they'd made. He thought he'd go into town later, and look for a little gift he had in mind for Harry.

He had to admit, in spite of the excitement of the last month, he was very anxious to see her again. She would greatly enjoy the tales of their voyage. She was a most appreciative listener: other than making love, her favorite activity during their first two days alone together had been hearing the stories associated with each of the many scars he carried. He could see her now, sitting on the bed, eyes wide, kissable lips slightly parted, a rosy flush of excitement on her cheeks, and naked as the day she was born.

On the other hand, he'd best stop thinking about that, for the moment. It would be at least a couple of days before the Pearl would leave for St. Claire, as the rest of the crew considered Tortuga a much better spot for cutting loose and having a good time. He'd always thought so himself, until recently. Funny how things could change so quick.

o-o-o

"Captain! Captain! Open up!"

This demand, accompanied by the pounding of a fist on the door, roused Jack from sleep on their third morning in Tortuga. At least he thought it might be morning. Seemed like he'd just got to bed! He groaned, and dragged himself up, staggering a bit, still feeling the effects of the rum he'd been drinking—not two hours back! Bloody hell! It was barely dawn!

He unlatched the door and jerked it open. "What in blazes do you mean, wakin' me up this early?" he growled, and then stopped, for the seaman, whom he recognized as the nightwatch, was white as his shirt. "What is it?" he demanded, subduing the growl.

"Sir! It's the Dauntless! She's in the harbor and has her guns trained on the docks and the town!"

"What!" Jack exclaimed in disbelief.

He pushed past the man and stumbled up the passageway, climbed the steps two at a time and burst out the companionway doors to the main deck. He strode over to the railing, staring: sure enough, there was the Dauntless, looking utterly incongruous, a behemoth among the many smaller, faster pirate ships that were tied up in the harbor. Her gun ports were indeed open, and it was like looking into the face of many-eyed death.

"Mary Mother o' God!"

Jack turned to Gibbs, who had joined him at the rail.

"What do you think?" Jack demanded of the former Navy man. "Will they fire on the town?"

"I don't know! Bloody hell, how should I know? What the devil's gotten into Norrington? This ain't like him at all!"

"No, it's not," Jack said slowly. He again looked out at the enormous vessel, which showed surprisingly little activity considering the circumstances, then said to Gibbs, "I'm going below to get dressed." If they were all going to die, he'd be damned if he'd do it clad in only his breeches and shirt.

It was only a few minutes later when he came back on deck again in all his piratical splendor, but already a small crowd of townsfolk and visitors to the port had started to form on the waterfront.

"They're lowering a boat," Gibbs flung over his shoulder as Jack crossed the deck to rejoin him.

Jack, who had brought his spyglass, set it to his eye and studied the boat as it was manned. "Norrington's not with 'em." He closed the spyglass again, put it in the pocket of his coat and said, "I'm for the waterfront. Looks like they want to parley. You coming?"

"Aye."

By the time Jack and Gibbs made their way off the Pearl and reached the waterfront, many other ships' captains were joining them, and there was quite a fair-sized and colorful crowd on hand when the longboat from the Dauntless pulled up at the dock and tied off. There were five men in the boat, and three of them got to their feet and climbed the ladder up to the dock: two big, heavily armed men first, then the rather prissy Lieutenant Gillette, whom Jack recognized from his first stay on the Dauntless, during the Isla de Muerta affair.

"I am Lieutenant Gillette of His Majesty's Royal Navy. May I enquire as to the identity of the leader of this group?"

A burly man with bright red hair and whiskers, dressed in a worn but once fine suit of clothing, stepped forward and looked down at the lieutenant. "I'm the mayor of Tortuga. Phineas McCollough at yer service."

"Mayor McCollough, I bear greetings, and a message from my commanding officer, Commodore Norrington. A certain pirate, known to be staying in this port, is wanted for questioning. The matter is of some moment, and we request that the man come with us immediately, back to the Dauntless and thence to Port Royal, Jamaica. In the event said pirate does not give his full cooperation to this request, Commander Norrington desired me to inform you that the Dauntless will use any and all means of persuasion available to her. "

A ripple of outrage swept through the crowd, but after a moment Phineas McCollough held up his hand for quiet. When talk had died away, the mayor said to Gillette, "We understand the demand, though we're havin' some difficulty understandin' why the Navy chooses to put on such a show of force to bring in one bloody pirate for questioning!"

Gillette said, primly, "I am not privy to the machinations of the Commodore's mind, but it should suffice to say he does nothing without careful thought and planning."

"Is that so?" said Phineas, dubiously. "Well then, lad, what's the name o' this scallywag who's so vital to the Navy that they'd threaten a peace-lovin' town with annihilation to get their hands on 'im?"

"His name," Gillette announced, quite enjoying his role, "is Jack Sparrow, Captain of the Black Pearl."

The crowd murmured and turned as one, all eyes finding and fixing their gaze, whether of anger, pity, or amusement, on Jack, who gaped in disbelief. The crowd backed away a bit, so that Jack and Gibbs were isolated, facing the Lieutenant and his guards.

"Bloody hell!" Jack gasped, finally finding his voice. "I haven't touched an English ship or town in months!" He looked around at all the faces of his compatriots. "If I had a Letter of Marque they'd be handin' me a bleedin' medal, give you me word!"

Gillette raised his chin a bit and said, sharp and official, "Are you the pirate Jack Sparrow?"

Jack scowled at the pink-cheeked git and snapped, "You know bloody well I am!"

"You have heard the command issued by Commodore Norrington?"

"I've heard it."

"Then I must ask you to please board this vessel immediately, to avoid any further unpleasantness."

Jack knew he was trapped. Whether his friends and acquaintances felt sympathy for his plight or not, they would expect him to comply with the outrageous demand, for to refuse would put all their lives and property at risk.

His expression turning stony, he stood very straight and looked down his nose at Gillette. "I need an hour. I'll meet you here."

Gillette nodded briskly, as though he'd been told to expect this. "One hour, then. Do not be late."

Jack took one last glance at the crowd, and said, "Ye needn't worry: I'll be here."

o-o-o

"Jack! We could try to cut an' run," Gibbs said.

They were back on the Pearl, in Jack's cabin, where he was seeing to a few last minute details before returning to the dock and the waiting longboat.

"We couldn't and you know it. Don't be daft. They're positioned to blow us out of the water! And even if we got away, I couldn't take the chance of 'em firin' on the town, now could I?"

Gibbs was silent for a long moment. Then he said, in a falsely hearty tone, "Well, we'll be right on their tail then, Jack, don't you worry! You ain't destined to end dancin' the hempen jig."

Jack laughed shortly. "You think not? You think the whelp'll come through with another timely rescue, and Norrington let me sail away a second time unmolested? Bloody hell. What's the man thinkin'? He has it in for me, that's certain, and that he's willin' to risk bringin' the Dauntless right into Tortuga Bay says how set on it he is. So you, an' Ana, an' all o' you: keep to the code. Don't bring the Pearl any closer than the outer bay at Port Royal, and don't take chances tryin' to rescue me. If I can get away, fine, but if not…well, it's been a good run, aye?"

"Aye, it has. And it wouldn't have been half what it was if you'd not been at the helm o' this ship."

Jack shrugged. "You'll do fine without me." He hesitated. Then he said, "There's one more thing. Something you could do for me…if the worst happens. I've plenty of blunt set aside—everything I've made since getting the Pearl back. Well, I want Owens to have it. I want you to see he gets out of the sweet trade and gets an education. I've enough to frank him at one o' those schools that cater to the sons of rich men. Harry'll help you with it. Will you see that it's done?"

"Aye, Jack," Gibbs said, gruffly.

Jack looked around his cabin. "Well, that's it then. I'd better get back."

Most of the crew was waiting on deck to see him off, having been hastily found in various places in the town and rounded up to prepare to set sail.

"Ain't you takin' your sword, Cap'n?" asked O'Brien in a worried tone.

"No, they'd just take it, and I don't want the blighters touchin' it, thank 'ee. You'll keep it for me till I get back, eh?"

"Aye, Cap'n, that we will," O'Brien replied, more cheerfully.

Ana was standing on the dock by the Pearl's gangplank. She and Jack looked at each other as he walked down from the deck, and when he reached her he set his hands on her arms. "The Pearl's yours if I don't come back," he said, quietly.

"You're comin' back," she stated firmly, her eyes narrowing.

His lips quivered on a smile. "Aye, then. I am." His hands tightened briefly on her arms before he let her go.

He started down the Pearl's dock, away from his ship, alone. But when he'd gained the waterfront and turned toward the guest dock where the longboat lay, three figures tore around the corner of a building and headed straight for him. He stopped to watch them: Owens, and his McGee cohorts.

The McGee lads stopped, but Owens came on, slowing to a walk, his face set, his eyes full of fear. "Captain…it's true then?" The boy stopped a few feet away.

"Aye, it's true. I'll be leavin' the Pearl for a bit. You'll mind Gibbs, now, and AnaMaria."

Owens nodded. His fine mouth quivered slightly, and his voice was hoarse as he said, "You'll come back?"

How was Jack to answer that? Well, he was a pirate wasn't he? "Aye, lad, I'll be back," he said lightly. But then Owens' face lit with renewed hope, and Jack's own resolve wavered. "Come here, lad," he said, finally, holding up his arms. Owens came to him, and Jack pulled him into a brief, hard hug.

Jack released him, and the boy looked up, "You'll come back?" Owens said again.

"I'll try," said Jack.

o-o-o

Jack felt utterly cold inside as the longboat approached the huge ship, the only sounds coming from the dip of the oars as they slipped through the water. That Norrington had not even come ashore to make the demand himself was a bad sign, one that filled Jack with the gravest foreboding.

His fears were confirmed when he climbed onto the deck of the Dauntless. Norrington was waiting for him, with several burly representatives of the King's Finest. There was none of the amused camaraderie that had softened Norrington's expression the last time Jack had seen him, when 'Sir John Wainfleet' was mounted and ready to leave the Turner's wedding; the look on the man's face now was enough to freeze Jack to the marrow.

"Put him in irons, and lock him in the brig," the Commodore said in a clipped, emotionless tone, even before Jack could say anything, and the pirate was so surprised by this precipitate order that he barely noticed the manacles being locked around his wrists, and remained uncharacteristically silent as he was hustled roughly away, below decks, to the deepest part of the ship.

He sat in the dank cell for many hours, listening to the faint sounds that came to him, of the anchor being raised, and the creak of the great ship as it caught the wind, made its way out of the harbor and took to the open sea. The brig stank, and this, combined with the motion of the ship, which seemed oddly exaggerated in this dark hole, was making him a bit ill. Or maybe it was fear.

There was a guard, but he was outside the door of the brig, so there was no conversation to be had, no one to answer the questions that bumped about in his head, driving him near to madness. This was no good! He was bloody Captain Jack Sparrow! He'd faced down death too many times to let this instance undo him. So he sat on the damp floor, and closed his eyes, and concentrated on thinking positive thoughts. Of the Black Pearl. Of his crew. Of Will, and Elizabeth and the wedding. Of Harry. He wondered if he'd ever see her again. Or any of them. For the feeling he got from Norrington now precluded this hope.

After a long time the guard brought in some fresh water, and some ship's biscuit for Jack to eat. Jack said, "Thanks, mate!" sad, but friendly, but the fellow did not linger, and the pirate was left to his own devices for the rest of the day.

He fell asleep, finally, and when he woke to the sound of voices outside the door of the brig he had no idea what time it might be. He got to his feet and walked to the front of the cell as the door to the brig opened.

It was the Commodore. Neat as a pin, as always, in his elegant uniform and curled wig.

The officer closed the door, set the lantern he was holding on a chair and walked slowly over to the cell where Jack stood watching, expressionless but for the kohl-rimmed eyes, which narrowed, wary and puzzled, at the look of disgust being directed at him. Unlocking the door, Norrington opened it and walked in. The pirate backed to the middle of the cell, but then dug in his heels and faced down this potentially deadly foe.

"Am I to know what this is all about, then?" Jack asked, inwardly pleased at the steadiness of his voice.

Norrington looked down at him for a long moment. Then the man spoke, slowly, and with careful control. "How dared you--even you, Sparrow: a knave and charlatan of the first order! How dared you have the audacity to ravish the Governor's sister! The relation of those who spared your very life!"

Jack stared at Norrington, first knocked acock that the man knew, then debating briefly whether to lie and deny it. But no. Inwardly he stiffened, but he let a slight smile touch his lips and looked the Commodore straight in the eye as he said, "Aye, then, I did. But you must understand: the lady ravished me, as well."

From the Commodore's sudden change of expression, Jack knew the mildly humorous turn of his words had not been well received, but even so he was unprepared for the speed and violence of the retaliation. There was a blinding flash of pain as Norrington's fist connected with his jaw, then the blackness of unconsciousness took him, even before he slammed back against the bulkhead and sank to the floor of the cell.

But Norrington, having reacted out of instinct inspired by a variety of emotions, now stood for long seconds, staring down at the pirate. His sudden anger was receding as quickly as it had overwhelmed him, and now what he felt more than anything was, absurd as it seemed to him, regret. For he had no doubt that Sparrow had spoken the truth: Harry Fanshawe was certainly capable of such madness. And once she had determined an objective, it would take more resolve than Sparrow possessed to deny her. Indeed, he thought morosely, he doubted he could do it himself.

The Commodore turned abruptly, walked out and locked the door again. With a last glance at the pirate, who looked annoyingly pitiable lying in a still heap on the floor of the cell, a livid bruise and swelling already evident on his face, Norrington left the brig.

The guard was still waiting outside. Norrington addressed him, coolly. "Sparrow's had an accident. When he regains his senses, see that he gets a ration of rum."