AN: I'm a bad author. Bad, bad author. I'm so sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long, but a million things were happening, and, well, I'm sorry. There are only two more chapters left to this story, and I'll try to get them out ASAP. For the few of you that I know are reading my LotR one, I'll then devote my free time (free time? What is that?) to finishing it. So . . .hope you enjoy.
To Love and Protect
Part 26
It was already clear that the Intrepid had the strategic advantage. The wind filled her sails, urging her onward, pushing her to greater speeds, closer and closer to her target . . .a target that they wanted to take intact.
A target that it was taking an eternity to reach, the distance far too wide between the two ships for any communication to be possible, though thanks to the Intrepid's speed the distance was closing fast.
"God, if I'm to stand a prayer again Hallson, I need that ship. Please . . ." Brian knew that his officers couldn't have heard the whisper, not over the scramble of well-trained men who armed the guns and manned their stations, preparing for a battle that he'd rather not engage in.
Someone pressed the speaking cone into his hand and he eyed the closing distance between the ships, the sluggish movements as the Jade struggled to find a favorable wind, the scurry as every other gun-port was opened, the other half left closed.
A half-crew? Only enough for half the guns? Or a trick, with the other ports ready to be opened at a moments notice?
"Ahoy the Jade! This is the HMS Intrepid! You are ordered to stand down and furl your sails for inspection!" Brian strained his ears to hear the response from the other ship, simply shouted over the surf, no speaking cone or other device used to amplify the gravelly voice.
"This is Captain Compson of the Jade, and we will not stand for an inspection from the British navy! We are not British citizens—"
"No. Yet your ship is implicated in attacks on several British vessels. You are outgunned, outnumbered, and outmaneuvered. Any man who stands down I will see receives a fair trial."
The ships were closer now, and the young captain could see with his unaided eyes the man that he was talking to. The other captain's hair was so very fair that it appeared white, a striking contrast to his dark tan. A pistol was clutched in one hand, his other hanging to one of the lines as he stared across at the British warship, apparently hoping that just by scowling deeply enough he could make it simply vanish.
"We're not surrendering, Captain."
Brian frowned slightly. He had expected this, but still . . .
"Fire a warning shot, across the bow."
Gunners scurried to follow his orders, halting a moment later in confusion as another voice cut across the water, also lacking amplification but still not seeming strained or hoarse.
"Come on now, Jason. Don't be so bloody quick to end what could be the most important parley in your pathetic life."
This was the voice of a man used to shouting orders and striking bargains no matter what was raging around him.
He was also treading a precarious line at the moment, having no right to speak in this matter. Only Brian's quick hand on Rollin's shoulder kept him from striding to the pirate captain and either shoving him overboard or running him through on the spot.
"Belay that order." The gunners stood down uncertainly, looking between their captain and the flamboyant pirate leaning over the railing, hands moving in a hypnotizing rhythm as he talked.
"Sparrow." There was a new venom in the privateer captain's voice.
Brian watched in fascination as the crew of the enemy vessel shifted uncomfortably, people bending towards each other, pointing across the water.
It was a different voice that yelled across the churning sea between the ships now, slightly younger, curious and somewhat awe-struck rather than venomous. "You really Jack Sparrow?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, son, and aye, that's me, in the living flesh."
Brian understood the light tinge of irony that infiltrated Jack's voice and smiled despite the situation.
"Aren't you s'posed t' have a beard with funny things tied into it?"
Jack's grin didn't falter. "Decided to see if shaving made me look younger."
"Oh." The younger man hesitated. "Does it?"
"Does it matter?"
Compson broke in before the absurd conversation could continue to the point where Brian couldn't help but laugh. "Where's yer ship, Sparrow? Never thought I'd see your sorry hide off your ship."
The hesitation was only for a fraction of a second, and Brian almost convinced himself that it hadn't been present at all.
"The Pearl's somewhere safe, somewhere where you can't find her."
Compson's eyes narrowed. "Did you lose her again, Sparrow? On another mad hunt across the world for a ship that should've been reduced to kindling long ago?"
"No, Jason. I know exactly where my ship is. As for ship's being reduced to kindling, that's what yours is going to be if you don't suddenly develop a bit of sense."
"I've got all the sense I need. If I surrender to your bloody British playmate, my men will be dead, as will I be, and God only knows what he'll do with my ship."
"He intends to use it to mutiny against a madman who threw him out of his garrison, where, I might add, he was quite well-liked."
Brian's officers shifted nervously at the use of the word 'mutiny', and the young captain again took over negotiations. "I guarantee that any man who surrenders will not be hung . . .or shot, starved or otherwise encouraged to meet their Maker." It took a supreme effort of will not to roll his eyes or otherwise show contempt as the crew of the Jade stiffened and then relaxed, muttering among themselves.
"He means it, Jason. He needs your ship, not your life. He's a good man, keeps his word."
"He's British Navy." The words were spat as though they were poison. "He'll kill us, word or no word. The British are not exactly well-known for the kindly treatment of anyone they see as their enemy."
"Nor are they monsters. I've been safe with him. Would I be allowed on deck, allowed to negotiate, if he was just a bloodthirsty captain out for promotion? I know there's some sense somewhere in that mind of yours, Compson. Shake it loose."
Again the crew of the Jade shifted, people whispering to each other, and Brian could sense them shifting to his point of view.
"You'll not set foot on my ship, any of you. I swear I'll be dead before I see her in your hands."
"Does your crew agree with you, Jason? Are you willing t' die defending that boat, lads? Doesn't hardly seem worth it, when you've got a guarantee of your life, your freedom—"
Rollin seemed about to protest again, but a swift glance from Brian stilled his tongue.
" Simply by laying down your arms and letting this man here do what needs to be done." Jack's tone changed as he turned his eyes from Jason to the other privateers visible on deck. "Do you really owe him your lives? Has he earned that much allegiance? Last I heard his mistakes got you driven from your normal hunting grounds, and now he's guided you right into the British Royal Navy. Not exactly the most brilliant of captains, now is he?"
"Sparrow . . ." Compson's voice was more of a growl than an actual language.
"He hasn't earned your loyalty. If you want to die for no reason, be my guest, but remember that you don't owe—"
The sound of the pistol discharging was strangely flat, the vastness of the ocean deadening the sound, but Brian could hear the impact as it struck the railing inches from the pirate captain, sending splinters flying. He also caught a sharp cry of alarm and the sounds of a brief struggle behind him as he turned and signaled to one of his marines before turning his full attention to the now-fuming captain of the Jade.
"-oody hypocrite! Everyone hears how Jack Sparrow hates mutinies, how Jack Sparrow was mutinied against for no reason, how Jack Sparrow—"
Sparrow simply tilted his head and continued to stare at the other man, not so much as twitching a muscle when a rifle fired across the still-diminishing distance between the ships, cutting Jason Compson off mid-thought. The privateer swayed for a moment, one hand going to his chest as though to staunch the flow of blood, before he collapsed.
"You were never worthy of that ship, Jason." Jack shook his head and turned to survey the rest of the privateer crew, all still fully armed.
Brian decided to try one more time to end the conflict without blood being shed or ships damaged. "If I have to kill every man aboard that ship to take it, I shall. I do not wish to shed blood if it can be avoided, though. Set down your weapons and allow my men to board and nothing shall happen to you."
"Y'promise ye'll take good care o' the lads? Promise on yer mother and any gods ye follow that ye'll no' hurt them, none of them, not e'en once ye've done whate'er it is ye need t' do?" The man who stepped forward to speak for the crew of the Jade seemed completely unperturbed by his late captain's body lying at his feet.
"I swear to it."
"And ye vouch fer him, aye, Jack Sparrow?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, and aye, I vouch for him. He'll do as he says."
The man nodded slowly and turned to the other crewmen on deck. For what seemed an interminable amount of time their voices rose and fell in contained argument before the spokesman again stepped forward.
"We agree t' yer terms, Captain. See that none o' the lads are hurt, and we promise not t' put up any resistance." The crew of the Jade continued to look between Jack and Brian, their uneasiness showing.
"I thank you gentlemen for seeing reason, and as I said before, your safety is guaranteed."
Brian stepped back and issued the orders that would bring them within easy boarding range of the Jade, relief making him nearly giddy.
"You've got a bloody good marksman there, lad."
"I know. I rather take affront to people attempting to pick off my negotiators, even if they weren't exactly appointed the job."
"We got you your ship, didn't we, without a scratch to either her or your lovely lass here."
The young captain couldn't help but grin at the pirate. "We did indeed, and I thank you for that. Just try to be more careful, all right? If he'd been any better of a shot . . ."
"He was always a bad shot." Jack shrugged. "Just keep your word to those men."
"I will, Jack. You know that."
Jack's grin reappeared. "Aye, I do."
"Then don't worry about it. And if you're looking for Will, Elizabeth dragged him down below."
The grin faded slightly. "I know. I've got something to take care of, all right?"
"All right." Brian watched the pirate quickly wend his way through the crew.
They had the extra ship that could make all the difference in the battle that he knew was coming. The Intrepid could outmaneuver the Defender, but when it came to firepower she was sorely outclassed. With two ships, though, harassing from either side, wolves of the sea hunting in a pack . . .aye, this would be much, much better.
* * *
"—certain everything will be fine. Just stay calm. He'll understand." Elizabeth gently rubbed her hands over her husband's taught shoulders and upper back, a short, bitter laugh the only answer Jack could hear.
"Elizabeth, I'd like to talk to your husband. Alone."
Elizabeth hesitated, looking between the two men uncertainly, opening her mouth to protest.
"Please, love. I promise not to eat him for dinner or some such."
Finally Elizabeth nodded and, skirting the pirate with as much distance as she could, slipped past him and upstairs.
"Will."
The blacksmith turned away, rubbing one hand through his hair as he watched his children work, their faces intent in the way that only the young who feel they have something to prove can master.
"Will, what in hell was that up there?"
"I'm sorry."
"That doesn't explain much. Elizabeth had to physically restrain you, didn't she, to keep you from running at me? And that didn't stop you from screaming in my head. Good thing I already knew what Jason's response would be, because I definitely wasn't able t' hear much of it."
Even without the link Will would have recognized the contained frustration and anger by the abbreviated hand gestures that the pirate used unconsciously.
The blacksmith pulled his arms in closer to his chest and lowered his head. "I'm sorry. It was just . . .when he shot at you . . .God, it was like the Brotherhood and Nerla all over again, only worse, because even in my head I didn't want you to die, it wasn't just forced on me . . .and I should've thought, been in better control . . .I didn't mean to react like that. I'll be more careful."
The aura of barely contained energy and fury seemed to evaporate in the space of a few seconds as Jack stared hard at the younger man. "You really couldn't help yourself."
"No. I'm sorry."
"You've already said that. Several times. I am, too. I hadn't thought about it bein' anything like when you were with the Brotherhood."
"You weren't moving. You weren't planning on it. You were just standing there while he shot at you."
"He was always a bad shot, Will. It was a well-calculated risk. I gambled. I won."
"You could have just as easily lost." Some of the guilt was fast turning to righteous indignation.
Jack simply grinned, spreading his left hand open and pointing upward with his right. "It's much easier for me to win than lose. Somethin' about the people up there havin' an interest in me because over the years I've had this bad habit of meddling in their affairs."
Will grinned half-heartedly. "You've a bad habit of meddling in everyone's affairs, Jack."
The pirate affected an affronted look. "Me? Only if there's good profit in it. If the gods could learn not to tempt us mere mortals by involving riches, eternal life or other fun things like that in their plans, they wouldn't have as big a problem."
"Gamble a few more times like you did out there and you can explain that theory in person."
"I don't make it a habit of risking my life for no profit, William."
"There isn't any profit in it for you . . .oh . . ." Will trailed off, a faint grin appearing on his face. "Brian is really not going to pleased with you, you know."
"I'm going to help him take care of problems first. Then I'm just going to relieve him of a bit of anxiety by taking any concerns for my welfare far, far, far from the results of British Navy power struggles."
"Do you think you can take Michael? All he has to do is cut you and you're good as dead."
"Where is your faith lately? Besides, whoever said I was going to get close enough for him to cut me?"
"It's what you want." Will turned back around to watch his children, more relaxed than when Jack had first found him but with tension still haunting his lean frame.
"What I want to do and what I'll do are two very different things. I didn't become a good shot for no reason. Give me your hand."
"No." Will didn't turn to face the pirate.
"William, give me your hand."
"No. You're not going to cut me, or yourself. It'll be better when there's actually a fight. I'll be expecting it. I'll have Elizabeth and the children to think about. Besides, you don't know what breaking the link will do to either of us."
"I'm not used to fighting with a distraction literally inside my head, and you aren't either. We're going to have to break it sometime." Jack's voice was a half-growled whisper as he moved closer to Will.
"Not now, Jack. We've had this link for how long, five days? Six? Already I'm used to it. It felt . . .wrong . . .earlier, when you weren't there. I'll be more careful, you won't do anything stupid, which, by the way, is supposed to be my job, and we'll be fine. Besides, you don't even know if sharing blood again will break it, you're just assuming such, and you don't know what it'll do to us if it breaks before it's supposed to."
"And when is it supposed to break, then, if you've got everything figured out?"
"I don't know, Jack, but it's not now. Trust me on this."
Jack was silent and still for a moment, head tilted slightly as he again contemplated the younger man. "You're certain you can handle this?"
"I'm certain."
"All right then. Stay out of my head unless you're specifically invited in, and I won't decide to jump you and fix this mess myself. Mental autonomy is not a bad thing."
"You never have to worry about that, Jack. You've enough defenses in that head of yours to keep even reality away if you want to."
"Which I never have."
"Never?"
The pirate shifted uncomfortably. "Almost never."
"After we take out Hallson, then we'll try to break it, all right? It could be helpful, though. You're the reason I'm still alive. I'm the reason your head isn't killing you at the moment. Two are stronger than one. Besides, I don't want to go into this any more off-balance than I already am with what's been happening."
"All right. After the battle."
"After the battle."
* * *
"Sir, it's dangerous for you to stay here. If you had been standing a few inches further to the left—"
"I will not run away like a bloody coward!"
"It wouldn't be cowardice, it'd be common sense!" Jenkin purposefully calmed his breathing, his hands balled into fists behind his back. "Sir."
"If I run now, I'll never get them back in control. Captain."
"If you're dead, you'll never have to worry about having them in control. A rifle blast that ends up going less than a foot from your head is not something to be taken lightly."
"I've dealt with the perpetrator." Hallson smiled thinly, turning his back on his distraught officer and casually pacing his office, appearing to focus more on the artwork displayed on the walls than on the matter at hand.
"Seeing one of their companions gunned down by the firing squad will hardly have earned you their loyalty. Especially not when the companion was little more than a boy."
"A boy old enough to bear arms in service to the King's Navy and turn them on his superior is a boy more than old enough to be executed as a traitor."
"Sir, if you simply came with me on the Defender for a few weeks, gave the men a chance to calm down and see that you're in the right . . ."
"They'll see that just as well with me here maintaining order."
Before Jenkin could find another argument in his quickly emptying repertoire, sounds of a scuffle and the noisy discharge of a rifle spoke for him.
Hallson stopped dead at the sound, his face quickly growing red with rage as he paced to the door and threw it open . . .only to start back in surprise with a cry of pain as the report from a second rifle heralded a slow flood of blood down his arm.
Jenkin had his commander back in the room with the door tightly shut and bolted before anything more than happen.
The Commodore's face was a pasty white as he watched his captain staunch the flow of blood.
"This is all Lanebridges' fault."
Jenkin kept quiet, knowing that the hardly hovering on the tip of his tongue would not be appreciated.
"If we get rid of him, we'll stop this thing at the source."
Again Jenkin refrained from answering. Any logic, no matter how twisted, that convinced his commander to take all actions necessary to safeguarding his life and preventing full-scale riots and mutinies would be acceptable to him.
"Once they've dealt with the . . .problem . . .out there, find Michael and tell him to meet us at the Defender in an hours time. Bring Markson, as well. We're going hunting. Best to have some decent bait and bargaining strategies."
* * *
"Robert. Come on, now is not the time to sleep soundly."
"Wha—" The blacksmith shook his head slightly and pulled away from the insistent hands that attempted to pull him to his feet.
"Robert, this is your chance to get out of here!"
"Adam . . ."
"That's right, Adam, now get up!" This time the belligerent redcoat managed to drag the groggy blacksmith all the way to his feet, supporting most of the other man's weight.
"What's happening?" Robert's balance improved quickly and he was able to bear more of his own weight as Adam slowly maneuvered them through the cell and towards the door to the guardroom.
"Something that could be both good and bad, but it gives me the chance I've been looking for to get you out of here."
No sooner had the redcoat uttered those words than the door to the guardroom burst open and another marine stood panting in the doorway.
"So you heard Captain Jenkin's orders. Let me help you get him to the Defender."
Adam firmly told himself that screaming denial to the fates would not improve the situation much. "Do you know why they want him on board?"
"Commodore's orders. Who knows why he does anything? Something about a bargaining tool against Lanebridges."
"I am standing here, you know." Robert lifted one eyebrow, already sweating from the simple exercise of getting upright and moving the short distance to the door.
"If we let go, you'd drop like a sack of stones." The other marine shifted his hold to get a better grip on the shaky blacksmith.
"Doesn't mean I'm not still standing here."
Adam smiled slightly as Robert's somewhat pouting response drew a snort of laughter from the other man.
Maybe there was a chance . . .
* * *
"Is very potent. When they shoot the monkey, only take two hops before it fall down dead. This worth a small fortune to any man, mi amigo."
Michael watched the tiny vial of liquid, a small part of his mind wishing the glass would shatter and cut off the man's heavily-accented bargaining. Then, though, there would be no point to his suffering the humiliation of bargaining with the foreigner.
"Twenty gold pieces. That's all I have, and I sincerely doubt that you will find a more accommodating buyer of your heathen brew in this rat's-nest. Mutinous they might be at times, but they still have this unfortunate tendency of living by an unhealthy code of honor that causes them to . . .take offense to trades of this nature. I'm sure we don't need to involve anyone from the fort in our business, though, now do you? Twenty gold pieces. Take it or leave it . . .friend."
The Spanish merchant considered for what, to Michael, was far too long a time before finally nodding reluctantly.
It was true . . .finding a market for a poison as strong and as unique as curare in any of the civilized colonies would be difficult, in some portions illegal. It was better to take a profit now than gamble on what-might-be.
Curare. The perfect poison, able to stop a man in under half a minute. The savages that brewed the poison coated not only their arrows, darts, spears, and sword with the poison, but their nails as well, literally clawing until they drew blood. It was a battle tactic that disgusted and, to an extent, terrified many of the Europeans who fought them.
And now it was his.
A scratch, a half a minute, and the danger would be past.
"Michael."
The mercenary whirled around as his name was shouted, attempting not to look guilty as he pocketed the poison. There was nothing wrong with his being at the merchant docks.
"You're to report to the Defender. The Commodore says we sail as soon as possible." Jenkin spoke with an obvious disdain that grated on the mercenary's nerves.
"What, pray tell, are we doing on the Defender?" The mercenary was a master at matching tones, but the captain only sneered more.
"We're going hunting."
Michael nodded dumbly, his heart skipping a beat, following behind the navy man as he made his way back to his ship.
Hunting Lanebridges.
Hunting Sparrow.
Suddenly, curare or not, Michael felt a sense of impending doom settle over him. Meeting two captains, one young but intelligent, the other crazy, brilliant, and highly experienced, on their own turf, on open water, with no room to run should things work out differently than they were supposed to . . .
This was a recipe for disaster.
