Disclaimer: see chapter 1
----
"Dagger and a selection of beads," the quartermaster said, pouring the latter into Jack's cupped hands. "Funny sort o' loot, if you ask me, Jim."
"Ah, but it's my loot," Jack pointed out.
"And you earned it," the quartermaster said, shaking his head. "Disarmed those men beautifully, you did. Lovely."
Jack closed his hand around the beads. "Thanks."
He found a quiet, empty space on deck and settled down with some of the beads to start replacing the ones he had given to the rum-runners weeks before. Twisting a few strands of hair together, and bending his head forward so the new braid hung down before his eyes, he began to thread beads on to it.
He had three beads hanging from the braid when footsteps sounded and a man sat down next to him. Jack looked up. The newcomer was one of the other pirates, a man known simply as Red Geraint.
"Jim."
"Red," Jack said, choosing another bead and starting to thread hair through its hole.
"Funny thing," Red Geraint mused, picking at his nails with a dagger, "I heard of another man that did that with his hair."
"Oh?" The bead slid on. Jack twisted a knot underneath it.
"Captain of the Black Pearl," Geraint went on. "Fellow named Jack Sparrow."
"I heard that too," Jack said, selecting a fifth bead. "Thought it seemed like a good way of keeping stuff safe." He glanced at his companion, and grinned. "'Sides, have you not heard the stories about Sparrow? Bloody good pirate, that one."
Geraint shrugged. "Can't believe more than half of them, can we? And those half seem ... well, exaggerated, a bit, see?"
"Very likely," said Jack, knowing full well that most of the stories circulating were exaggerated, and for good reason - he'd been the one to do the exaggeration. "But I like the stories, so I copied the hairstyle."
Geraint looked hard at him for a moment, and then shrugged. "You're a mad one, you are."
Jack flashed him a suitably mad smile, and Geraint shook his head before getting up and going off.
The Lucia was beating her way around the Caribbean, with no particular course or aim save to take as much loot as possible from as many ships as possible. Her crew were a rough and ready bunch, good-natured as pirates went. Jack was rather enjoying himself. Without the responsibilities that came with being a captain, he was rediscovering the pure thrill of piracy and the fellowship of drinking a tot of rum with his crewmates on an evening.
However, he was still missing the Black Pearl, and above all, he was missing being himself. He was constantly having to rein in his naturally flamboyant nature, and having to remember that he was James Swift, not Captain Jack Sparrow.
He made up for hiding behind the pseudonym during the fights that occurred each time the Lucia attempted to take another ship. With his sword, Jack could let go; feet moving and blade flashing, throwing jibes out at his opponent. He was one of the most successful pirates on the ship, bringing in a deal of money, jewellery, fine clothes and weapons after each raid. Even the taciturn Captain Menéndez commented on the prowess of his newest crewmember. Jim Swift quickly won the respect of the other pirates.
They patrolled the waters of the eastern and southern Caribbean for several months, taking supplies from their victims and occasionally putting in at port for a night or two. Eventually, Menéndez made the decision to turn northwest and head for Hispaniola and Tortuga.
Jack and Elias Carpenter were on the same watch, and often spent quiet moments standing by the rail together.
"D'you hope to catch sight of the Pearl?" Carpenter asked, one night, as the Lucia hurried north under a good wind.
Jack shrugged. "Mebbe. Not sure what I'd do if we did see her."
"Reckon that Barbossa found the gold?" Carpenter said. Jack had told him the myth of the Aztec gold shortly after joining the Lucia.
"Oh, it was there," Jack said. "I'm certain of that. So if it was there, then he found it." He frowned to himself. "S'pose he's gone and squandered it on drink and girls."
"What would you have spent it on?" his friend asked.
"Drink, and girls," Jack said. "But also I'd have spent it on the old lady. She could do with some new sails, new lines ... new planking. There's a loose board in the brig." He gazed into the darkness, picturing his ship in his mind. "I'd have got 'er painted, fresh paint. Redecorated me cabin."
"You're soft about that vessel," observed Carpenter.
"I won't deny it," Jack agreed.
Carpenter was silent for a moment. "I don't rightly understand," he said. "I've never known anyone else who loved a ship like you love the Pearl, Jack ... I mean Jim. There be cap'ns who are fond of their vessels, but I reckon you'd turn a lass away if she were to come between you and your girl."
Jack shot his friend a quick, sharp glance, and laughed. "It'd depend on the lass, Elias. The Pearl doesn't mean that much I'd turn away a pretty woman for her."
"I'm glad to hear it," Carpenter said. "There was me beginning to get worried."
A shout came from the quarterdeck to trim the sails, and the two men turned away from the rail to carry out their duties.
They sailed into Tortuga a week later. Jack, occupied high aloft as usual, looked for the familiar dark silhouette of the Black Pearl at anchor, but did not see her. He went ashore with the other pirates somewhat reluctantly - people knew him in Tortuga, and people knew the Pearl, and he was concerned that someone would put two and two together when they saw the captain and no ship. So he tied his hair back, left off his red headscarf, and pulled his hat down low over his eyes, and resolved not to talk to anyone he recognised.
That first night ashore went without a hitch, and after a day spent carrying out essential maintenance tasks aboard the Lucia, Jack followed the rest of the men back into town a good deal more cheerfully. Shortly after midnight he bade goodnight to Carpenter and the others, and wandered off arm-in-arm with a buxom whore. The rest of the evening passed in a most pleasurable manner, and eventually Jack fell contentedly asleep in the girl's bed.
He woke late in the morning, and leaving a few coins on the pillow dressed and went out. With his thumbs hooked in his sash, he strolled nonchalantly towards the harbour. The sun was out and warm, beating down brightly on the town. In daylight, Tortuga looked shabby, the wood of the buildings bleached by sun and wind. It smelt, too, but Jack had long since grown used to that particular odour of salt and sweat, drink and sex.
Coming round the corner of the street into the harbour, he looked for the Lucia, lying snug in her berth. Nobody was yet about on deck, but she was anchored neatly with her sails furled and tied down. Jack turned his feet towards her, eyes scanning the rest of the harbour.
He stopped short at the sight of the ship coming into sight, gliding in from open ocean into the calm of the cove. Large but graceful, her lines perfect, and the sails billowing from her main and foremasts black.
Jack's breath caught in his throat. As he watched, the foresail was lowered, and he could see men perched along the boom, busy working. Jack stayed where he was, and kept watching until the Black Pearl had anchored a hundred yards out into the harbour. On the quarterdeck of his ship, he could see the wide feathered hat of Barbossa. There was no sign of Bootstrap Bill Turner.
Turning, Jack slowly walked up the gangplank of the Lucia, and below to his hammock.
During the afternoon, the pirates who had returned to the Lucia settled to mending the spare sails on deck. Jack's eyes kept drifting away from his needle to the black ship at rest only a short distance away.
"That's the Black Pearl, ain't it?" someone said, gesturing towards her.
"Believe so," Red Geraint said, sitting opposite Jack. "Jim? You're the Sparrow fan."
"Only said I'd heard of him," Jack said, tearing his eyes off his vessel and turning to Geraint. "Not that I'd ever seen him, or his ship."
"Ah, that's the Pearl, all right," the quartermaster said, jabbing his needle into the canvas. "Ask Elias Carpenter - he once sailed aboard her."
Jack finished a stitch. "Not a 'specially lovely ship, is she?" he commented, lightly. "All that black."
"Fast, though," Geraint said. "Or so I heard."
"Mmmm." Jack forced himself to keep his eyes on the canvas, and kept sewing.
He did not go ashore that evening. Instead, he climbed the foremast and sat watching the other ship, and imagining the things he would like to do to Barbossa.
It was late when the voice called up from the decks. "Jack. Jack!"
"Eh?" Jack peered down.
"It's Elias. Jack, I know you're up there."
Jack swung his legs over the boom and climbed down the rigging. "Jim, Elias, Jim."
Carpenter did not seem to hear, instead pulling at Jack's sleeve and dragging him under the stairs that led to the quarterdeck.
"I was in the 'Faithful Bride'," he said, and Jack, peering at him in the gloom, saw that Carpenter looked genuinely scared of something.
"Go on," he prompted.
Carpenter took a deep breath. "Well, in came this man with a fancy hat on. Big feather and all. And a bunch of 'is crew. They were laughing, joking, pleased to be ashore, it seemed. They had gold." He paused.
Jack nodded, encouragingly. "Carry on, Elias."
"Seemed as though this was your Barbossa," Carpenter said. "No Bill Turner. Anyways, they sat themselves down and ordered rum, ale, grog - lots of it. Flashed gold around, they did."
"Did you see any of it?" Jack asked. "Did you see it?"
"Aye, I did." Carpenter nodded. "It were your gold, all right, Jack. Had a skull on it, patterns round the edge. Like nowt I'd seen before." His eyes misted over. "Lovely, it was."
"So?"
"So, I listened in to their talk," said Carpenter. "They'd put in on Cuba, spent some time there, afore sailing for Tortuga. They spoke of you, a little. Some of them drank a toast to you."
"Mighty good of them," observed Jack.
"And then ..." Carpenter hesitated, before visibly pulling himself together, "they mentioned old Bootstrap. Said how he'd not liked taking the ship from you. Said ... well ... he's dead, Jack. Drowned."
Jack shook his head. "Bill can swim."
"Not with a cannon strapped to his feet, he can't," Carpenter said, his face pale.
There was silence. Jack stared at Carpenter for a moment, and turned away.
"Well now," said a voice, from close by, and the door leading into Menéndez's cabin opened. The captain stood framed by lantern light, his arms folded. "This is muy interesante. Extremely. Captain Sparrow, might I have a word?"
----
"Dagger and a selection of beads," the quartermaster said, pouring the latter into Jack's cupped hands. "Funny sort o' loot, if you ask me, Jim."
"Ah, but it's my loot," Jack pointed out.
"And you earned it," the quartermaster said, shaking his head. "Disarmed those men beautifully, you did. Lovely."
Jack closed his hand around the beads. "Thanks."
He found a quiet, empty space on deck and settled down with some of the beads to start replacing the ones he had given to the rum-runners weeks before. Twisting a few strands of hair together, and bending his head forward so the new braid hung down before his eyes, he began to thread beads on to it.
He had three beads hanging from the braid when footsteps sounded and a man sat down next to him. Jack looked up. The newcomer was one of the other pirates, a man known simply as Red Geraint.
"Jim."
"Red," Jack said, choosing another bead and starting to thread hair through its hole.
"Funny thing," Red Geraint mused, picking at his nails with a dagger, "I heard of another man that did that with his hair."
"Oh?" The bead slid on. Jack twisted a knot underneath it.
"Captain of the Black Pearl," Geraint went on. "Fellow named Jack Sparrow."
"I heard that too," Jack said, selecting a fifth bead. "Thought it seemed like a good way of keeping stuff safe." He glanced at his companion, and grinned. "'Sides, have you not heard the stories about Sparrow? Bloody good pirate, that one."
Geraint shrugged. "Can't believe more than half of them, can we? And those half seem ... well, exaggerated, a bit, see?"
"Very likely," said Jack, knowing full well that most of the stories circulating were exaggerated, and for good reason - he'd been the one to do the exaggeration. "But I like the stories, so I copied the hairstyle."
Geraint looked hard at him for a moment, and then shrugged. "You're a mad one, you are."
Jack flashed him a suitably mad smile, and Geraint shook his head before getting up and going off.
The Lucia was beating her way around the Caribbean, with no particular course or aim save to take as much loot as possible from as many ships as possible. Her crew were a rough and ready bunch, good-natured as pirates went. Jack was rather enjoying himself. Without the responsibilities that came with being a captain, he was rediscovering the pure thrill of piracy and the fellowship of drinking a tot of rum with his crewmates on an evening.
However, he was still missing the Black Pearl, and above all, he was missing being himself. He was constantly having to rein in his naturally flamboyant nature, and having to remember that he was James Swift, not Captain Jack Sparrow.
He made up for hiding behind the pseudonym during the fights that occurred each time the Lucia attempted to take another ship. With his sword, Jack could let go; feet moving and blade flashing, throwing jibes out at his opponent. He was one of the most successful pirates on the ship, bringing in a deal of money, jewellery, fine clothes and weapons after each raid. Even the taciturn Captain Menéndez commented on the prowess of his newest crewmember. Jim Swift quickly won the respect of the other pirates.
They patrolled the waters of the eastern and southern Caribbean for several months, taking supplies from their victims and occasionally putting in at port for a night or two. Eventually, Menéndez made the decision to turn northwest and head for Hispaniola and Tortuga.
Jack and Elias Carpenter were on the same watch, and often spent quiet moments standing by the rail together.
"D'you hope to catch sight of the Pearl?" Carpenter asked, one night, as the Lucia hurried north under a good wind.
Jack shrugged. "Mebbe. Not sure what I'd do if we did see her."
"Reckon that Barbossa found the gold?" Carpenter said. Jack had told him the myth of the Aztec gold shortly after joining the Lucia.
"Oh, it was there," Jack said. "I'm certain of that. So if it was there, then he found it." He frowned to himself. "S'pose he's gone and squandered it on drink and girls."
"What would you have spent it on?" his friend asked.
"Drink, and girls," Jack said. "But also I'd have spent it on the old lady. She could do with some new sails, new lines ... new planking. There's a loose board in the brig." He gazed into the darkness, picturing his ship in his mind. "I'd have got 'er painted, fresh paint. Redecorated me cabin."
"You're soft about that vessel," observed Carpenter.
"I won't deny it," Jack agreed.
Carpenter was silent for a moment. "I don't rightly understand," he said. "I've never known anyone else who loved a ship like you love the Pearl, Jack ... I mean Jim. There be cap'ns who are fond of their vessels, but I reckon you'd turn a lass away if she were to come between you and your girl."
Jack shot his friend a quick, sharp glance, and laughed. "It'd depend on the lass, Elias. The Pearl doesn't mean that much I'd turn away a pretty woman for her."
"I'm glad to hear it," Carpenter said. "There was me beginning to get worried."
A shout came from the quarterdeck to trim the sails, and the two men turned away from the rail to carry out their duties.
They sailed into Tortuga a week later. Jack, occupied high aloft as usual, looked for the familiar dark silhouette of the Black Pearl at anchor, but did not see her. He went ashore with the other pirates somewhat reluctantly - people knew him in Tortuga, and people knew the Pearl, and he was concerned that someone would put two and two together when they saw the captain and no ship. So he tied his hair back, left off his red headscarf, and pulled his hat down low over his eyes, and resolved not to talk to anyone he recognised.
That first night ashore went without a hitch, and after a day spent carrying out essential maintenance tasks aboard the Lucia, Jack followed the rest of the men back into town a good deal more cheerfully. Shortly after midnight he bade goodnight to Carpenter and the others, and wandered off arm-in-arm with a buxom whore. The rest of the evening passed in a most pleasurable manner, and eventually Jack fell contentedly asleep in the girl's bed.
He woke late in the morning, and leaving a few coins on the pillow dressed and went out. With his thumbs hooked in his sash, he strolled nonchalantly towards the harbour. The sun was out and warm, beating down brightly on the town. In daylight, Tortuga looked shabby, the wood of the buildings bleached by sun and wind. It smelt, too, but Jack had long since grown used to that particular odour of salt and sweat, drink and sex.
Coming round the corner of the street into the harbour, he looked for the Lucia, lying snug in her berth. Nobody was yet about on deck, but she was anchored neatly with her sails furled and tied down. Jack turned his feet towards her, eyes scanning the rest of the harbour.
He stopped short at the sight of the ship coming into sight, gliding in from open ocean into the calm of the cove. Large but graceful, her lines perfect, and the sails billowing from her main and foremasts black.
Jack's breath caught in his throat. As he watched, the foresail was lowered, and he could see men perched along the boom, busy working. Jack stayed where he was, and kept watching until the Black Pearl had anchored a hundred yards out into the harbour. On the quarterdeck of his ship, he could see the wide feathered hat of Barbossa. There was no sign of Bootstrap Bill Turner.
Turning, Jack slowly walked up the gangplank of the Lucia, and below to his hammock.
During the afternoon, the pirates who had returned to the Lucia settled to mending the spare sails on deck. Jack's eyes kept drifting away from his needle to the black ship at rest only a short distance away.
"That's the Black Pearl, ain't it?" someone said, gesturing towards her.
"Believe so," Red Geraint said, sitting opposite Jack. "Jim? You're the Sparrow fan."
"Only said I'd heard of him," Jack said, tearing his eyes off his vessel and turning to Geraint. "Not that I'd ever seen him, or his ship."
"Ah, that's the Pearl, all right," the quartermaster said, jabbing his needle into the canvas. "Ask Elias Carpenter - he once sailed aboard her."
Jack finished a stitch. "Not a 'specially lovely ship, is she?" he commented, lightly. "All that black."
"Fast, though," Geraint said. "Or so I heard."
"Mmmm." Jack forced himself to keep his eyes on the canvas, and kept sewing.
He did not go ashore that evening. Instead, he climbed the foremast and sat watching the other ship, and imagining the things he would like to do to Barbossa.
It was late when the voice called up from the decks. "Jack. Jack!"
"Eh?" Jack peered down.
"It's Elias. Jack, I know you're up there."
Jack swung his legs over the boom and climbed down the rigging. "Jim, Elias, Jim."
Carpenter did not seem to hear, instead pulling at Jack's sleeve and dragging him under the stairs that led to the quarterdeck.
"I was in the 'Faithful Bride'," he said, and Jack, peering at him in the gloom, saw that Carpenter looked genuinely scared of something.
"Go on," he prompted.
Carpenter took a deep breath. "Well, in came this man with a fancy hat on. Big feather and all. And a bunch of 'is crew. They were laughing, joking, pleased to be ashore, it seemed. They had gold." He paused.
Jack nodded, encouragingly. "Carry on, Elias."
"Seemed as though this was your Barbossa," Carpenter said. "No Bill Turner. Anyways, they sat themselves down and ordered rum, ale, grog - lots of it. Flashed gold around, they did."
"Did you see any of it?" Jack asked. "Did you see it?"
"Aye, I did." Carpenter nodded. "It were your gold, all right, Jack. Had a skull on it, patterns round the edge. Like nowt I'd seen before." His eyes misted over. "Lovely, it was."
"So?"
"So, I listened in to their talk," said Carpenter. "They'd put in on Cuba, spent some time there, afore sailing for Tortuga. They spoke of you, a little. Some of them drank a toast to you."
"Mighty good of them," observed Jack.
"And then ..." Carpenter hesitated, before visibly pulling himself together, "they mentioned old Bootstrap. Said how he'd not liked taking the ship from you. Said ... well ... he's dead, Jack. Drowned."
Jack shook his head. "Bill can swim."
"Not with a cannon strapped to his feet, he can't," Carpenter said, his face pale.
There was silence. Jack stared at Carpenter for a moment, and turned away.
"Well now," said a voice, from close by, and the door leading into Menéndez's cabin opened. The captain stood framed by lantern light, his arms folded. "This is muy interesante. Extremely. Captain Sparrow, might I have a word?"