Disclaimer: see chapter 1
----
Jack waved the pistol in his victim's face. "C'mon, mate, hand it over. Nobody travels with no money."
The man shook his head, violently. "No - I tell you, I have nothing!"
Jack sighed, and cocked the pistol. "You and I both know better than that. Look, I know it's a nice night and all - lovely stars - but there's other people waiting here."
"Please don't shoot." The man was cracking, Jack could see.
"Don't give me a reason to shoot."
"All right!" Delving in his pockets, the man pulled out not one money bag, but three, and threw them on the ground at Jack's feet. Bending so that his eyes - and the pistol - remained fixed on his victim, Jack picked them up and stowed them away.
"Thank you, sir." He moved on to the next trembling coach passenger, a woman wrapped in an unseasonably thick cloak. She had the hood up, veiling her face, and Jack reached out to pull it down.
She flinched backwards, and he lowered the pistol an inch. "Not goin' to hurt you, love, just want to see your face."
The woman looked up, showing the glint of damp eyes, and this time she let him pull the hood down. Long dark hair fell around her shoulders, and Jack grinned appreciatively. There were too few attractive women on the road. She met his gaze defiantly.
"Do your worst."
"I only want your valuables, me dear," he said. "Jewels, coins, suchlike."
She glared at him, and wrenched a pearl necklace off. This was swiftly followed by matching earrings, a gold bracelet, and an embroidered pouch heavy with silver. Jack pocketed the things and gave her a little bow.
"Ta." He began to move on.
"You really only wanted my valuables?"
Jack turned back. "Not all thieves are such scoundrels, love. I don't know what it is that's been done to you in the past, but don't tar us all with the same brush, savvy?" He swung around on his heel, and swiftly liberated the rest of the passengers' money and jewellery. In a few short minutes, he was mounted on his borrowed horse and riding away with Richard Dudley, who had stayed back and watched the robbery from a distance.
"You're getting good at this," Dudley said, holding the reins easily with one gloved hand.
"Riding or stealing?" Jack asked. "The first I could do without. The second I've been doing for years."
"I beg your pardon," Dudley said. "I meant the art of robbery on the highways. Surely it's very different from piracy?"
Jack tried to get comfortable in the saddle. "Not especially. Stopping the coach ain't as exciting as stopping a ship - no cannon, no wind to play with, no grapples - but the rest is the same. Little threat, little chatter. There aren't many folk who'd rather give up their life than their money."
"True enough," Dudley agreed. "But do you not try and win the ships too?"
"What would I want with another ship?" Jack questioned. "A man can only sail one vessel at a time. No, it's the stuff on board we take - the goods they're trading, their weapons, some supplies. Then we retreat, stow the swag, and sail off nice and quick so's they can't catch us."
Dudley flashed him a grin. "In that case I am in accord with you. Pirates and highwaymen are more akin than I'd thought." He turned his horse into a narrower lane that led to the abandoned farmhouse where the little band of highwaymen were currently living. "We're planning on heading northwards in a few days."
"Ah." Jack gave his horse a kick with his heels to encourage it to follow Dudley's.
"You are more than welcome to stay with us," Dudley continued. "You're a useful man to have around, Jack. But I do not know if you have other plans?"
Jack shrugged. "Not as such. I'm minded to carry on south, look for a ship."
"Missing the sea?" Richard Dudley asked, as they rode into the farmyard. He dismounted quickly from his horse.
"Aye." Jack climbed down a little slower. "Same as you'd miss the road, if you left it."
Dudley began to lead his horse towards the stables, and Jack followed. The highwayman looked over his shoulder at the pirate. "I would miss the life, miss the excitement. I would not miss forever hiding from the law, and I would not miss being closed up in Newgate Gaol."
"Prisons are nasty places," Jack agreed. "Spent much time in Newgate?"
"Long enough." Dudley shuddered, visibly. "I was nearly hanged, but my friends intervened and won me a pardon."
"Useful," observed Jack, as they coaxed the horses into stalls, took off their harness, and began to brush the animals down.
"Highly," Dudley said, smiling. "I fully expect the noose one day, but not yet." He heaved some hay into the manger, and gave his horse an affectionate pat on the nose. "There you go, boy; a well-earned rest."
Jack brushed his hands off. "The fun," he said, "is escaping the noose. And the prisons. There was this time in India ..."
The two men went into the farmhouse together, to join their fellows and count the winnings from the evening. And Jack, as he told the story of his daring escape from the East India Company, realised that although he had found companionship and even friendship, unlooked for on the road, he was missing the sea. By the end of the evening - after Richard Dudley had given a colourful account of Newgate, and some of the other men had told equally outrageous tales of outmanoeuvring the law - Jack was resolved to continue his journey south.
Three days later, the highwaymen left the farmhouse, their mounts laden with their belongings. On the main road, they paused, and Richard Dudley dismounted.
"Well, Captain Sparrow, here we must bid you farewell - if you're still decided to go to London."
"I've not changed me mind," Jack said. He pulled his borrowed pistol from his belt. "Here - this is yours. I don't need it."
"We have plenty more," Dudley said.
Jack turned the butt towards the highwayman. "I've got my sword, and my wits. Take it."
Dudley did, and nodded. "Thank you, Jack. I'm glad we came across you." He dug in a pocket, and took out a money bag. "You've earned this."
"Ta." Jack tucked the bag away. "I have. Well, best be off. Good luck, and a fair wind, and hope I don't meet you gents again locked up somewhere."
"Luck to you, too," Dudley said. "Hope you find your ship."
Each man mounted his horse, and with a click of his teeth Dudley kicked his mount into motion. The highwaymen, with calls of farewell to Jack, rode off in a cloud of dust.
More slowly, Jack shook the reins. "London Town, horse," he said. "Hope you know the way, 'cos I don't."
It was another two days' ride to London. The road grew busier as Jack got closer, but he did not try to rob anyone. The money that Dudley had given him would last for a while, and he preferred to arrive in the capital city with his reputation still to be built.
He rode into London slowly, looking around him with interest. York had been busy. London was packed with people, rushing around on their everyday business. The stench in some of the streets was appalling; a mixture of unwashed bodies, human and animal waste, offal, rotting vegetables. Jack wound the free end of his headscarf around his mouth and nose and longed for the fresh salt air of the sea.
Finding a room in a tavern was easy - the problem was which tavern. There seemed to be thousands of them, with a variety of brightly-coloured signs. Following his nose, Jack rode into the centre of the city, and chose an inn near the wide fast river.
The next task was to sell the horse. Quick enquiries directed him to a "man who bought such things", and indeed the man was willing to pay a guinea for the animal. Jack was glad to see the last of it. He admitted to himself that a horse was useful for getting around, but he had not particularly enjoyed riding one.
Armed with the proceeds from the sale, he settled down in his tavern to get comfortingly drunk before starting the search for a ship the next day. There were several handsome girls drifting around, and after a bit two of them came to sit down next to him. When Jack retired to bed that night, a pretty blonde went with him, and proceeded to welcome him to London in the best way possible.
The morning brought a grey drizzle, and a headache. The girl had slipped away at some point, and Jack awoke alone and several shillings poorer. He hauled himself out of bed and dressed.
There was a small, tarnished looking-glass propped up on a dresser, and Jack picked it up to look into it. He started. The man staring back at him was unrecognisable - his tan, gained from years of sailing tropical waters, was beginning to fade, and it had been months since he had bothered with the kohl around his eyes. He brushed at the hair hanging down into his face, and thoughtfully reached up to the back of his head, where his thick braid was unravelling.
Half an hour later, Jack Sparrow was walking the banks of the Thames, his hair newly braided, and a few more beads jangling cheerfully over his brow. There were a number of ships moored to the riverbank, here where the water was wide, and he strolled along with his hands behind his back, examining them with an expert's eye. At length, he selected a newish, good-sized merchant ship, and setting his shoulders back, lifted his voice to hail it.
----
Jack waved the pistol in his victim's face. "C'mon, mate, hand it over. Nobody travels with no money."
The man shook his head, violently. "No - I tell you, I have nothing!"
Jack sighed, and cocked the pistol. "You and I both know better than that. Look, I know it's a nice night and all - lovely stars - but there's other people waiting here."
"Please don't shoot." The man was cracking, Jack could see.
"Don't give me a reason to shoot."
"All right!" Delving in his pockets, the man pulled out not one money bag, but three, and threw them on the ground at Jack's feet. Bending so that his eyes - and the pistol - remained fixed on his victim, Jack picked them up and stowed them away.
"Thank you, sir." He moved on to the next trembling coach passenger, a woman wrapped in an unseasonably thick cloak. She had the hood up, veiling her face, and Jack reached out to pull it down.
She flinched backwards, and he lowered the pistol an inch. "Not goin' to hurt you, love, just want to see your face."
The woman looked up, showing the glint of damp eyes, and this time she let him pull the hood down. Long dark hair fell around her shoulders, and Jack grinned appreciatively. There were too few attractive women on the road. She met his gaze defiantly.
"Do your worst."
"I only want your valuables, me dear," he said. "Jewels, coins, suchlike."
She glared at him, and wrenched a pearl necklace off. This was swiftly followed by matching earrings, a gold bracelet, and an embroidered pouch heavy with silver. Jack pocketed the things and gave her a little bow.
"Ta." He began to move on.
"You really only wanted my valuables?"
Jack turned back. "Not all thieves are such scoundrels, love. I don't know what it is that's been done to you in the past, but don't tar us all with the same brush, savvy?" He swung around on his heel, and swiftly liberated the rest of the passengers' money and jewellery. In a few short minutes, he was mounted on his borrowed horse and riding away with Richard Dudley, who had stayed back and watched the robbery from a distance.
"You're getting good at this," Dudley said, holding the reins easily with one gloved hand.
"Riding or stealing?" Jack asked. "The first I could do without. The second I've been doing for years."
"I beg your pardon," Dudley said. "I meant the art of robbery on the highways. Surely it's very different from piracy?"
Jack tried to get comfortable in the saddle. "Not especially. Stopping the coach ain't as exciting as stopping a ship - no cannon, no wind to play with, no grapples - but the rest is the same. Little threat, little chatter. There aren't many folk who'd rather give up their life than their money."
"True enough," Dudley agreed. "But do you not try and win the ships too?"
"What would I want with another ship?" Jack questioned. "A man can only sail one vessel at a time. No, it's the stuff on board we take - the goods they're trading, their weapons, some supplies. Then we retreat, stow the swag, and sail off nice and quick so's they can't catch us."
Dudley flashed him a grin. "In that case I am in accord with you. Pirates and highwaymen are more akin than I'd thought." He turned his horse into a narrower lane that led to the abandoned farmhouse where the little band of highwaymen were currently living. "We're planning on heading northwards in a few days."
"Ah." Jack gave his horse a kick with his heels to encourage it to follow Dudley's.
"You are more than welcome to stay with us," Dudley continued. "You're a useful man to have around, Jack. But I do not know if you have other plans?"
Jack shrugged. "Not as such. I'm minded to carry on south, look for a ship."
"Missing the sea?" Richard Dudley asked, as they rode into the farmyard. He dismounted quickly from his horse.
"Aye." Jack climbed down a little slower. "Same as you'd miss the road, if you left it."
Dudley began to lead his horse towards the stables, and Jack followed. The highwayman looked over his shoulder at the pirate. "I would miss the life, miss the excitement. I would not miss forever hiding from the law, and I would not miss being closed up in Newgate Gaol."
"Prisons are nasty places," Jack agreed. "Spent much time in Newgate?"
"Long enough." Dudley shuddered, visibly. "I was nearly hanged, but my friends intervened and won me a pardon."
"Useful," observed Jack, as they coaxed the horses into stalls, took off their harness, and began to brush the animals down.
"Highly," Dudley said, smiling. "I fully expect the noose one day, but not yet." He heaved some hay into the manger, and gave his horse an affectionate pat on the nose. "There you go, boy; a well-earned rest."
Jack brushed his hands off. "The fun," he said, "is escaping the noose. And the prisons. There was this time in India ..."
The two men went into the farmhouse together, to join their fellows and count the winnings from the evening. And Jack, as he told the story of his daring escape from the East India Company, realised that although he had found companionship and even friendship, unlooked for on the road, he was missing the sea. By the end of the evening - after Richard Dudley had given a colourful account of Newgate, and some of the other men had told equally outrageous tales of outmanoeuvring the law - Jack was resolved to continue his journey south.
Three days later, the highwaymen left the farmhouse, their mounts laden with their belongings. On the main road, they paused, and Richard Dudley dismounted.
"Well, Captain Sparrow, here we must bid you farewell - if you're still decided to go to London."
"I've not changed me mind," Jack said. He pulled his borrowed pistol from his belt. "Here - this is yours. I don't need it."
"We have plenty more," Dudley said.
Jack turned the butt towards the highwayman. "I've got my sword, and my wits. Take it."
Dudley did, and nodded. "Thank you, Jack. I'm glad we came across you." He dug in a pocket, and took out a money bag. "You've earned this."
"Ta." Jack tucked the bag away. "I have. Well, best be off. Good luck, and a fair wind, and hope I don't meet you gents again locked up somewhere."
"Luck to you, too," Dudley said. "Hope you find your ship."
Each man mounted his horse, and with a click of his teeth Dudley kicked his mount into motion. The highwaymen, with calls of farewell to Jack, rode off in a cloud of dust.
More slowly, Jack shook the reins. "London Town, horse," he said. "Hope you know the way, 'cos I don't."
It was another two days' ride to London. The road grew busier as Jack got closer, but he did not try to rob anyone. The money that Dudley had given him would last for a while, and he preferred to arrive in the capital city with his reputation still to be built.
He rode into London slowly, looking around him with interest. York had been busy. London was packed with people, rushing around on their everyday business. The stench in some of the streets was appalling; a mixture of unwashed bodies, human and animal waste, offal, rotting vegetables. Jack wound the free end of his headscarf around his mouth and nose and longed for the fresh salt air of the sea.
Finding a room in a tavern was easy - the problem was which tavern. There seemed to be thousands of them, with a variety of brightly-coloured signs. Following his nose, Jack rode into the centre of the city, and chose an inn near the wide fast river.
The next task was to sell the horse. Quick enquiries directed him to a "man who bought such things", and indeed the man was willing to pay a guinea for the animal. Jack was glad to see the last of it. He admitted to himself that a horse was useful for getting around, but he had not particularly enjoyed riding one.
Armed with the proceeds from the sale, he settled down in his tavern to get comfortingly drunk before starting the search for a ship the next day. There were several handsome girls drifting around, and after a bit two of them came to sit down next to him. When Jack retired to bed that night, a pretty blonde went with him, and proceeded to welcome him to London in the best way possible.
The morning brought a grey drizzle, and a headache. The girl had slipped away at some point, and Jack awoke alone and several shillings poorer. He hauled himself out of bed and dressed.
There was a small, tarnished looking-glass propped up on a dresser, and Jack picked it up to look into it. He started. The man staring back at him was unrecognisable - his tan, gained from years of sailing tropical waters, was beginning to fade, and it had been months since he had bothered with the kohl around his eyes. He brushed at the hair hanging down into his face, and thoughtfully reached up to the back of his head, where his thick braid was unravelling.
Half an hour later, Jack Sparrow was walking the banks of the Thames, his hair newly braided, and a few more beads jangling cheerfully over his brow. There were a number of ships moored to the riverbank, here where the water was wide, and he strolled along with his hands behind his back, examining them with an expert's eye. At length, he selected a newish, good-sized merchant ship, and setting his shoulders back, lifted his voice to hail it.