"Though we're poor as, hungry church-mice, and our bones are growin' old, ohhh my darlin', look around thee, to the love and the life I have brought thee, for my words are, true as silver, and my heart is made of gooooooold." Jack hollered, box-stepping to his own song, with the wheel as his partner. He took a drink with his left hand, and Gibbs shuddered.
"If your heart was made of gold, Jack Sparrow, I'd cut it out o'your chest and give it to my sainted mother." Jack nodded in assent, caught himself, and frowned darkly.
"Mr. Gibbs, kindly put yourself overboard."
Gibbs heaved a coil of rope into the corner of the deck, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand in mock relief.
"As long as I don't have to hear no more singin', then, Cap'n." he said, and dropped a tiny curtsey before heading down the stairs. Elizabeth passed him on her way up from the galley, and he gave her a knowing wink. She unbowed her head, taking in the glare of the water and the freshly-scrubbed wood. Barbossa's wickedness was only matched, it seemed, by his inability to maintain an inspection-quality vessel. The Pearl, returned to Jack's desperately affectionate hands, had taken months to become a lady once again; and not a moth-eaten hulk of driftwood.
The deck was damp, so she stepped carefully, swinging a pail of wash-water for her hair. She shaded her eyes to glance up at a few stray seagulls, cackling overhead, and turned to smile at Jack; whose tuneless and irrepressible humming could probably be heard in the galley.
"You're in a good mood." she called, and he sang back to her some nonsense about crows being made of gold and silver. "What ?"
"The crow's nest, love. The crow's nest." he shrugged. "It's never done me false." And with that, he went back to his drink and the imaginary orchestra resonating in his head.
Hand-over-hand was the only way to get any decent information on a vessel where an oracle held the helm, she supposed. So up she went, her sunbrowned bare feet flashing like two slippery trout in the rigging. Up in the nest, she surprised the salty, dirt-smelling sixteen year old they'd picked up for a cabin boy in Jamaica; who dropped his handful of crackers and a few wrinkled playing cards right over the side.
"Beggin' yer.. I mean, I heard ye comin', and dinna'.... you right scared the living life out o'me, miss."
"Ma'am." she corrected, feeling her heart stop briefly. "Playing cards ?"
"An' watching the horizon like a damned 'awk, er, miss." he puffed out his chest, and thought involuntarily about how lovely The Miss was, and wasn't it a shame she hadn't eyes for anyone but That Odd Jack Fellow.
"Ma'am- oh, bah. Right. Well, I won't bother you. I'm just up here on an errand for Jack." he looked even more, if possible, surprised at this.
"Really ? He was just up here not ten minutes ago, yelling about pep... pepriker..."
"Paprika ?"
"Tha's it." he nodded. Elizabeth lapsed into a confused silence.
The wind was against them, but slow and steady the Pearl cruised along, unmindful.
"Jack, you mad bastard... what aren't you telling ?" she murmured under her breath, and the slightly starry-eyed watch had the sense not to respond.
A gust of fresh air, high above the waves, caught her nose, and in a breath she understood.
Paprika.
More than that, she smelled all manner of spices. It was the scent of pepper, nutmeg and cinnamon, carried high above the damp sea air on a current faster and slimmer than the rest of the wind. They were on the tail of a fat spice trader, bursting at the seams with goods- one that had perhaps met an accident, an accident that had released a burst of said spices into the onrushing air. They were trailing a crippled merchant vessel. She looked down, and for the first time noticed a few barrels and planks beginning to dot the horizon.
When she reached deck again, breathless, she clambered up and over to Jack's post; where he was watching her with dark, amused eyes.
"You 'ad to smell it for yourself."
"Do you intend to sell the spices you capture this afternoon, or simply eat well for the next several years ?"
"Big picture, love, big picture. Grenada's the isle of spice, as it were. A fat trade's being done, and I'm not the man to leave a purse hanging in the air." Her eyes widened in sudden recognition.
"You think it's Verdeem !"
"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about." he sighed, turned the wheel a notch, and made a dramatic gesture to the Heavens, asking, perhaps, why the innocent were so persecuted on God's green earth. Elizabeth snorted and crossed her arms across her chest.
"You liar ! You think it's Verdeem. He's the only captain in the Caribbean that does business in Dutch diamonds as well as spices."
Caught, Jack could hardly stifle his grin.
"It may have crossed my mind."
"Sitting duck." Gibbs said, grinning. "Shall we make ready to come up alongside, Cap'n ?"
Jack's dark eyes were unreadable, and he said nothing. Elizabeth never pretended to understand his many moods; but she wasn't daft. Jack was listening to the Pearl at the moment, and the rest of us would do well to stay silent, she thought. Gibbs went on, either not noticing the shift in mood, or not caring. "Funny. She's leaning to port a bit hard. Perhaps that's where she was hit."
"Hit on what, though, is the question. There's little to trip over in these waters. No… no, somebody's been here before us." Jack murmured. "I don't like this…"
Elizabeth leaned over the railing, and clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the scream.
"Jack !"
The crew turned as one; and Jack Sparrow, the Caribbean's own private devil, made the sign of the Holy Cross.
"Mother Mary and all the saints…"
The full compliment of the Intrigerend hung dangling in the breeze, heels knocking the hull of their own ship.
