Revenge of the Fox
Chapter 6
Norrington stood at the helm of the Black Pearl. He hated to admit it, but the ship was a honey to sail. She was much more responsive than the Dauntless. Jack walked up the steps to the quarterdeck and stood beside him. "How do you like her, Commodore?"
Norrington glanced at him. "Very much. She's very responsive."
Jack grinned delightedly as if Norrington had complimented his only child. "Aye, she is. A real beauty." He launched into an elaborate story about some ship he'd chased, or had the other ship been chasing him? Norrington wasn't paying a great deal of attention. It was probably half fantasy anyway. He returned to his thoughts. He was worried sick about Antonia. He spent half the night tossing and turning, imaging her frightened or hurt and needing him. Toward dawn his imagination had turned even darker and more lurid.
"Mate, you're not listening to me."
Norrington's attention snapped back to the present. "I'm sorry, Captain. I've a lot on my mind."
Jack regarded him. "It does no good to dwell on it. You can't help her by wallowing in worry and self pity." Norrington almost snarled at him, but bit back the impulse. Amusement lit in Jack's eyes. "Aye, you want to break me jaw, don't you?" He leaned closer. "Mate, the bastard's got my wife, my second mate and the wife of one of my closest friends. I don't know your lady very well, but I know that Gwen and Elizabeth are very fond of her. Don't think for a moment that I slept any better than you did last night."
"And Will and Joseph?" asked Norrington dryly.
"Joseph is all right. He's had a lot of practice with self-control. Will, however, is having a hard time. Look for yourself." Jack gestured toward the main deck. Will, Joseph and a few of the other crewmen not currently on duty were beginning a fencing lesson. "Will normally works with my crew when he's aboard. He's an excellent teacher."
"He is," agreed Norrington. "He works with several of the younger officers in Port Royal. They've all improved immensely."
"This lesson looks a bit different, however," Jack replied. "Watch."
As Norrington watched, Will engaged a young sailor. The bout lasted about five seconds before the sailor's sword spun out of his hands to clatter onto the deck. A second crewmember did no better. When Will and Joseph squared off the bout lasted considerably longer, but the end was the same. Even at this distance, Norrington could see the tension in Will's shoulders. Jack spoke again. "See what I mean? He's so wound up he can hardly stand it. I better go down there before he actually kills someone." With a nod, Jack descended to the main deck. Norrington saw him clap Will affectionately on the shoulder and speak to him quietly. Then Jack drew his own sword and the two squared off. Will attacked with ferocity, with Jack coolly defending himself without attempting to go on the offensive. Indeed, Will's offensive was so fast it was all Jack could do to keep up.
Sweat began to trickle down Will's face as he grimly fought on. He'd spent the previous twenty-four hours in a state of controlled panic and rage, which had built and intensified during a long, sleepless night. When one of the sailors had asked if he was going to teach this morning, he'd leapt at the chance to do something, anything that would occupy his mind. However, the exercise hadn't had the effect he'd expected. He'd nearly run his first opponent through before remembering that it was supposed to be a friendly lesson. Fighting with Joseph had been a little better, but not enough.
Little by little though, the weariness of his muscles was unlocking the frozen state of his brain. Fighting with Jack required a great deal of concentration. He was too good a swordsman to take for granted. Will could feel himself beginning to relax, to start to enjoy the contest. The red, bloodlust haze that had hovered before his eyes began to recede. He blinked and stepped back, disengaging. The sun was actually shining. He hadn't noticed that before.
Jack grinned at him, flashing his gold teeth. "Feeling better?"
Will smiled a little sheepishly. "Yes, thank you. I needed that."
Jack sheathed his sword. "Good. Don't kill any of my men, savvy? We may need them all before we're done." He clapped Will on the shoulder again and walked off.
Will sheathed his sword, wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked at the men watching him. "All right, Mike and Davy, why don't you two come up here? I think I'll just coach for a while."
--
"Time to halt for the night," announced Reynard, dismounting. "Bert, you make a fire. Smitty, you take care of the horses." He walked over to Gwen, put his hands on her waist and swung her out of the saddle. When he released her, she staggered to the side and sat down heavily against a tree. "Tired, my dear?" Reynard asked.
"I haven't ridden in years," said Gwen dryly. "You needn't worry about me running away at the moment. I don't think I can walk."
Reynard laughed and sat down beside her. "So, tell me what it's like to be married to Captain Jack Sparrow."
Gwen looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Why do you want to know?"
He laughed again. "Curiosity. A way to kill time."
"You said you used to know him. How long ago was it?
Reynard looked amused. "We were shipmates many years ago, back when he first became Captain of the Black Pearl. When he was promoted over the heads of some of the older and more experienced officers it caused quite a stir."
"I'm sure it did."
"My brother was first mate then. He was furious."
"Your brother.?"
"Why Barbossa, of course. Surely you've heard tales of Captain Barbossa."
Gwen started. "I have indeed. I had no idea that he was your brother."
Reynard shrugged. "I was much younger; ten years or more. I was just a common pirate in those days. Moved from ship to ship, governed by greed."
Gwen smiled sweetly. "Haven't changed much, have you?"
There was a flash of anger in Reynard's dark eyes. "Oh, but I have, Mrs. Sparrow, I have. I've learned the value of patience and planning. How to forgo the pleasure of the moment for the larger reward. Take my brother for instance. A lesser man might have left the ship in anger, but not he. Slowly over the course of three years he built up a façade. He convinced Jack he could be trusted, and he slowly and carefully chose new crewmembers who would be loyal to him, rather than their upstart Captain. When the time came, he was ready. When the mutiny happened, there were only a few who objected. And they were taken care of."
"Like Bootstrap Bill?"
"Ah, Bootstrap. He was an interesting one. He pretended to go along in order to save his own skin, but he didn't have the patience to see it through. He lost his temper one day and let slip that his sympathies were with Jack. Stupid impatient fool. If he'd kept his peace until the opportune moment it might have been different. I understand Bootstrap's son is just like him. Stupid, impatient and foolishly loyal."
"Is loyalty such a foolish virtue?"
"It can be, my dear. It can be."
"How is it that you escaped the curse?"
Reynard leaned back against the tree. "I wasn't on the ship at that time. I'd signed onto another pirate ship a few months before."
"Didn't you know what Barbossa was planning? Why weren't you there to support him?"
Reynard grinned. "As I said, my dear, loyalty can be foolish. Let's just say I was hedging my bets. I wasn't at all sure that Barbossa could succeed, and I didn't want to be around if he failed."
"If you aren't interested in loyalty, why do you want to revenge yourself against Jack, Will and Commodore Norrington?"
"Oh, part of it is a feeling of duty, I suppose. The man was my brother and he taught me the value of planning. I feel I owe him the satisfaction of seeing his murderer get what he deserves. Part of it is the thrill of the contest. Jack Sparrow is the trickiest pirate in the Caribbean. I want to prove I'm even more clever."
"Jack is the one who shot Barbossa. Why drag Will and Norrington into it?"
"Sparrow couldn't have done it alone. Without Turner and Norrington he'd still be marooned on that little island. Norrington is also the one who hung the rest of my brother's crew, the men who were loyal to Barbossa. Besides, my dear, it makes for a more interesting plan. I find it amusing to send them chasing all over the place after me. I left a note telling them to go to Tortuga."
"So where are you taking me?"
"Not to Tortuga, luv."
--
Norrington stood at the helm of the Black Pearl. He hated to admit it, but the ship was a honey to sail. She was much more responsive than the Dauntless. Jack walked up the steps to the quarterdeck and stood beside him. "How do you like her, Commodore?"
Norrington glanced at him. "Very much. She's very responsive."
Jack grinned delightedly as if Norrington had complimented his only child. "Aye, she is. A real beauty." He launched into an elaborate story about some ship he'd chased, or had the other ship been chasing him? Norrington wasn't paying a great deal of attention. It was probably half fantasy anyway. He returned to his thoughts. He was worried sick about Antonia. He spent half the night tossing and turning, imaging her frightened or hurt and needing him. Toward dawn his imagination had turned even darker and more lurid.
"Mate, you're not listening to me."
Norrington's attention snapped back to the present. "I'm sorry, Captain. I've a lot on my mind."
Jack regarded him. "It does no good to dwell on it. You can't help her by wallowing in worry and self pity." Norrington almost snarled at him, but bit back the impulse. Amusement lit in Jack's eyes. "Aye, you want to break me jaw, don't you?" He leaned closer. "Mate, the bastard's got my wife, my second mate and the wife of one of my closest friends. I don't know your lady very well, but I know that Gwen and Elizabeth are very fond of her. Don't think for a moment that I slept any better than you did last night."
"And Will and Joseph?" asked Norrington dryly.
"Joseph is all right. He's had a lot of practice with self-control. Will, however, is having a hard time. Look for yourself." Jack gestured toward the main deck. Will, Joseph and a few of the other crewmen not currently on duty were beginning a fencing lesson. "Will normally works with my crew when he's aboard. He's an excellent teacher."
"He is," agreed Norrington. "He works with several of the younger officers in Port Royal. They've all improved immensely."
"This lesson looks a bit different, however," Jack replied. "Watch."
As Norrington watched, Will engaged a young sailor. The bout lasted about five seconds before the sailor's sword spun out of his hands to clatter onto the deck. A second crewmember did no better. When Will and Joseph squared off the bout lasted considerably longer, but the end was the same. Even at this distance, Norrington could see the tension in Will's shoulders. Jack spoke again. "See what I mean? He's so wound up he can hardly stand it. I better go down there before he actually kills someone." With a nod, Jack descended to the main deck. Norrington saw him clap Will affectionately on the shoulder and speak to him quietly. Then Jack drew his own sword and the two squared off. Will attacked with ferocity, with Jack coolly defending himself without attempting to go on the offensive. Indeed, Will's offensive was so fast it was all Jack could do to keep up.
Sweat began to trickle down Will's face as he grimly fought on. He'd spent the previous twenty-four hours in a state of controlled panic and rage, which had built and intensified during a long, sleepless night. When one of the sailors had asked if he was going to teach this morning, he'd leapt at the chance to do something, anything that would occupy his mind. However, the exercise hadn't had the effect he'd expected. He'd nearly run his first opponent through before remembering that it was supposed to be a friendly lesson. Fighting with Joseph had been a little better, but not enough.
Little by little though, the weariness of his muscles was unlocking the frozen state of his brain. Fighting with Jack required a great deal of concentration. He was too good a swordsman to take for granted. Will could feel himself beginning to relax, to start to enjoy the contest. The red, bloodlust haze that had hovered before his eyes began to recede. He blinked and stepped back, disengaging. The sun was actually shining. He hadn't noticed that before.
Jack grinned at him, flashing his gold teeth. "Feeling better?"
Will smiled a little sheepishly. "Yes, thank you. I needed that."
Jack sheathed his sword. "Good. Don't kill any of my men, savvy? We may need them all before we're done." He clapped Will on the shoulder again and walked off.
Will sheathed his sword, wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked at the men watching him. "All right, Mike and Davy, why don't you two come up here? I think I'll just coach for a while."
--
"Time to halt for the night," announced Reynard, dismounting. "Bert, you make a fire. Smitty, you take care of the horses." He walked over to Gwen, put his hands on her waist and swung her out of the saddle. When he released her, she staggered to the side and sat down heavily against a tree. "Tired, my dear?" Reynard asked.
"I haven't ridden in years," said Gwen dryly. "You needn't worry about me running away at the moment. I don't think I can walk."
Reynard laughed and sat down beside her. "So, tell me what it's like to be married to Captain Jack Sparrow."
Gwen looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Why do you want to know?"
He laughed again. "Curiosity. A way to kill time."
"You said you used to know him. How long ago was it?
Reynard looked amused. "We were shipmates many years ago, back when he first became Captain of the Black Pearl. When he was promoted over the heads of some of the older and more experienced officers it caused quite a stir."
"I'm sure it did."
"My brother was first mate then. He was furious."
"Your brother.?"
"Why Barbossa, of course. Surely you've heard tales of Captain Barbossa."
Gwen started. "I have indeed. I had no idea that he was your brother."
Reynard shrugged. "I was much younger; ten years or more. I was just a common pirate in those days. Moved from ship to ship, governed by greed."
Gwen smiled sweetly. "Haven't changed much, have you?"
There was a flash of anger in Reynard's dark eyes. "Oh, but I have, Mrs. Sparrow, I have. I've learned the value of patience and planning. How to forgo the pleasure of the moment for the larger reward. Take my brother for instance. A lesser man might have left the ship in anger, but not he. Slowly over the course of three years he built up a façade. He convinced Jack he could be trusted, and he slowly and carefully chose new crewmembers who would be loyal to him, rather than their upstart Captain. When the time came, he was ready. When the mutiny happened, there were only a few who objected. And they were taken care of."
"Like Bootstrap Bill?"
"Ah, Bootstrap. He was an interesting one. He pretended to go along in order to save his own skin, but he didn't have the patience to see it through. He lost his temper one day and let slip that his sympathies were with Jack. Stupid impatient fool. If he'd kept his peace until the opportune moment it might have been different. I understand Bootstrap's son is just like him. Stupid, impatient and foolishly loyal."
"Is loyalty such a foolish virtue?"
"It can be, my dear. It can be."
"How is it that you escaped the curse?"
Reynard leaned back against the tree. "I wasn't on the ship at that time. I'd signed onto another pirate ship a few months before."
"Didn't you know what Barbossa was planning? Why weren't you there to support him?"
Reynard grinned. "As I said, my dear, loyalty can be foolish. Let's just say I was hedging my bets. I wasn't at all sure that Barbossa could succeed, and I didn't want to be around if he failed."
"If you aren't interested in loyalty, why do you want to revenge yourself against Jack, Will and Commodore Norrington?"
"Oh, part of it is a feeling of duty, I suppose. The man was my brother and he taught me the value of planning. I feel I owe him the satisfaction of seeing his murderer get what he deserves. Part of it is the thrill of the contest. Jack Sparrow is the trickiest pirate in the Caribbean. I want to prove I'm even more clever."
"Jack is the one who shot Barbossa. Why drag Will and Norrington into it?"
"Sparrow couldn't have done it alone. Without Turner and Norrington he'd still be marooned on that little island. Norrington is also the one who hung the rest of my brother's crew, the men who were loyal to Barbossa. Besides, my dear, it makes for a more interesting plan. I find it amusing to send them chasing all over the place after me. I left a note telling them to go to Tortuga."
"So where are you taking me?"
"Not to Tortuga, luv."
--
