Disclaimer: see chapter 1
----
The Nictaux sailed from Tortuga a fortnight later. Jack had used the time at harbour to replace much of the rigging with new rope, and some of the hatches too. He stocked up with supplies, and then spent two days recruiting new crew. He had hoped that Gibbs would stay with him - over the past year, he had begun to rely on the old sailor - but Gibbs said no.
"I've a mind to stay put for a bit," he explained, when Jack suggested that he stay on. "It ain't you, Jack; an' I like the pirate life. I just want to sample Tortuga a bit longer."
Deschamps, however, did agree to continue as Jack's first mate, and more than half the crew signed the ship's articles for another voyage. The rest of the numbers were made up from men idling in Tortuga. Jack had been hoping to find his old friend Anamaria in town, but when he enquired after her it turned out she was at sea with another ship. He asked Gibbs to keep an eye out for her, and let her know where he was should she ask.
They sailed on a perfect morning, with a fresh, strong wind and calm seas. Captain André came to see them off, waving from the quayside. Jack doffed his hat and saluted the Nictaux's former owner, before the ship slipped out of the shelter of the harbour into open sea.
Jack had given some thought as to his plans. Although he desperately wanted the Black Pearl back, he was not sure that he could take her. He decided, therefore, to wait and see. If they came upon the Pearl, and an opportunity presented itself, then he would seize it with both hands. Otherwise, the Nictaux would head east, for Africa and India.
The first stage of the passage went well, and they cleared the easternmost islands in under two weeks. With a good wind and sunny weather, progress was good. When not occupied with the daily maintenance of the ship, the crew played games, talked, sang songs, and practised their sword skills. Jack insisted on the latter, challenging them all to try and beat him. Some of them came close, but few could match his agility even when they used the most blatant tricks in the book. Afterwards the pirates concentrated on working their way through one of the many barrels of rum Jack had brought on board.
But the weather changed as they approached the coast of Africa, and storms were brewing in the east. Jack took in sail and slowed the Nictaux down, and eventually made the decision to put in at Cape Town for a few days rather than attempt the Cape of Good Hope in current conditions. He had vivid memories of dark nights lashed to the mast, reefing until his fingers nearly dropped off, on his first time in these oceans. That had been nearly twenty years earlier, on the Black Pearl, when he had been young and - if not innocent - inexperienced.
In Cape Town, they restocked the hold with fresh food. Jack splashed out and bought his crew some good beef, which was eagerly devoured after weeks of dry, hard, salted fare. Then he allowed them an evening's shore leave, with strict instructions to return before dusk the next day.
The weather improved quickly, and the Nictaux rounded the Cape in calm weather. "Now," said Jack, as he ordered one of the reefs to be taken out of the sails, "let's find some prey." He glanced up at the set of the sails. "Three points to port, Mr Deschamps."
Deschamps adjusted the course. "I have never been to the East," he observed, as the Nictaux picked up speed.
"Oh, it's a wonderful part o' the world," Jack said. "Pretty lasses. Lots of swag. Idiots with frigates to avoid."
Deschamps nodded. He had heard Jack's tales of the East India Company and his daring escape from them. Everyone aboard had. Most of them only half-believed the story - though in fact it was one of the ones Jack exaggerated the least. After all, when a tale involved branding, imprisonment and a night swim in a strange harbour, what needed adding to it?
As they sailed closer to India, the traffic picked up and Jack began ordering raids. They looted and terrorised and fought, and celebrated each successful attack with rum and shanties. There were a few injuries in each raid, one of them serious when a pirate's thigh was slashed, but no deaths. Spirits were high.
Then the weather turned again, and the Nictaux was blown north on a night of high winds and torrential rain. Jack kicked Deschamps off the helm and took it over himself, steering as straight a course as he could. But the little two-master did not cope with stormy weather as well as larger ships he had known, and when morning came she was in a sorry state. Nothing was permanently damaged, but they needed to dock to tidy her up and make some repairs.
The nearest port, according to a rough chart Jack had, was the town of Bom Baia - not somewhere he had ever been before. It was marked as Portuguese on his chart. He ordered the Jolly Roger standard to be taken down, and they sailed into harbour as an unmarked ship, shabby from the storm.
"Captain," said young Sim, "ain't those English colours?"
Jack looked in the direction of Sim's pointing finger. From the top of a building the union flag blew.
"I thought the town was Portugal's?" Deschamps asked.
"So did I," Jack said, eyeing the flag. He raised his voice. "Drop anchor!"
The anchor rattled out, splashing into the water and settling fast.
Jack sent five men ashore with a shopping list of necessities, and himself stayed on board to supervise the start of the repairs. Sails had to be taken down to be mended; as a precaution, he had spare sails put up in their place in case there was the need for a hasty getaway. Some of the pirates settled down with sail needles and began sewing the rips in the canvas together. Others, starting from the opposite end of the ship, made up pails of tar and started caulking the cracks in the boards.
Before too long, the men who had gone ashore returned laden down with new rope and other items. They reported that the town was busy, but mostly with natives, though they had seen a few prosperous-looking white men. Jack eyed the other ships in the harbour and wondered whether any of them belonged to the East India Company. At least one of the frigates seemed likely. But there was no time to waste on speculation - there were repairs to do, and every man was needed to do them. Even Jack rolled up his sleeves and joined in, as the new rope was unrolled and the rigging replaced, line by line. The caulking and sail-mending were going well, and they managed to rerig the foresail before nightfall.
Jack called a halt at dusk, and the weary pirates trooped below to eat. The ship's cook had gone ashore too and returned with baskets of unusual stuff, and had cooked up a spicy stew with some rice and flat circles of bread. After that, Jack ordered the crew to their hammocks. He had no desire to hang around at anchor when there were merchant vessels to loot.
The next day, the repairs went on. It was hot work, and the sun beat down on the deck of the Nictaux. Things were going well, until halfway through the afternoon, when Deschamps approached Jack and told him that they had run out of rope.
"I asked for five lengths of 20 ells," Jack said. "Did they not get that?"
"They got four," Deschamps said. "We have need of another."
"Too damned right we do!" said Jack, exasperated. "It was a simple enough instruction. Do we need anythin' else?"
"A few things," Deschamps answered, listing a few small items.
Jack nodded. "All right, keep 'em at it. I'll go and buy them - if you want a job doin' right, best do it yourself, eh?"
"Oui," agreed Deschamps. Jack nodded, and was soon rowing his way across the harbour to shore.
He found the land rather too stable, and hurried along to the nearest ship's outfitters. His purchases made, and the order given to have the stuff delivered to the Nictaux within the hour, he set off back towards the harbour.
It was still hot, and Jack strolled along looking about himself with fascination, reflecting that he rather liked this part of the world. Less rum, perhaps, than the Caribbean, but the clothes and people were wonderfully colourful.
He had come ashore just as he was, in breeches and boots with the sleeves of his shirt folded up. It was only when he saw an Englishman in a dark blue suit with a sword at his hip staring at him that Jack realised the pure idiocy of not rolling the sleeves down. Here he was, in the middle of East India Company territory, wandering along displaying their "P" brand for all to see.
The Englishman had been joined by another now, and both were making their way briskly towards Jack. He cursed under his breath, and turned. Without running he made for the other end of the street. There, two roads intersected and there were far more people around, trying to go in different directions in a colourful mass of humanity. Jack slid himself into the crowd, moving quickly but as unobtrusively as he could. He was swept along until he passed the doorway of a shop filled with bright fabrics, and he slipped inside.
The middle-aged woman in green who evidently owned the shop put a hand to her mouth at the sight of Jack, and he hurriedly offered her a polite bow and a smile before gesturing to some of the vivid cotton wraps folded on the shop's shelves. She frowned, and pulled down a long piece of red.
"That'll do," Jack said, holding out a coin. "C'mon, love ..." He looked over his shoulder, and the woman must have picked up on his urgency for she gave him the fabric and took his coin.
Jack shook out the material and examined it. He had seen the local women in these bright outfits, a length of cotton or silk draped over their bodies, and cast over their faces.
The shop owner watched him as he attempted to wrap the red fabric around his body, and then, clearly trying not to laugh, she came to him and deftly folded and tucked and soon had it right.
Tucking telltale beads out of the way, Jack looked down at himself. He thought he probably looked all right - only his kohl-rimmed eyes showing above the red, and he was thankfully slightly built for a man - but he realised that his boots would be a dead giveaway. Cursing under his breath, he kicked the boots off.
The woman smiled at him, and pulled out a piece of rough cotton. She wrapped the boots in the cotton and passed them to him, indicating that he should carry them on his head.
"You're a genius, love," Jack said, nodding his head in thanks. He rested the boots on his head, took a deep breath, and set out again into the crowd.
He walked unhurriedly now, at the same pace as all the people around him. Nobody gave him a second glance, and he turned down towards the harbour. The crowd thinned now, and Englishmen were to be seen as well as the locals. A group of seven of them, swords drawn, were gathered in a group by the gangplank of one of the large frigates. Jack quickened his pace and was soon untying his small boat. As he paddled across to the Nictaux, one of the Englishmen called and waved, and then set off at a run in Jack's direction.
Jack looked over his shoulder. His ship was a hundred yards distant, and he quickened his stroke rate.
"Deschamps!" he called, in between strokes. "Get ready to make way."
"Capitaine?" Deschamps came to the rail. Jack glanced backwards at him, and then set his teeth and pulled harder.
"Throw me a line," he ordered, as he shipped the oars and came alongside the Nictaux, moments later. "And raise that bloody anchor, savvy?"
"Captain," said Deschamps, as he helped Jack on board, "why are you ...?"
He never got to finish his question. Jack pulled off the concealing red drapery and hurried to the helm, shouting orders as he did so. The newly-repaired sails were unfurled, and the Nictaux swung around to leave the harbour.
"Give 'em a shot," Jack said, hauling with all his weight on the helm. One of the ship's little cannon boomed, and a shot hit the water just ahead of a longboat that had been swiftly launched. The Nictaux was moving now, the wind filling her sails, and Jack handed the wheel over to one of his crewmen.
"What was that for?" Deschamps asked, as Jack came down to the main deck.
"East India Company," said Jack, leaning on the rail and watching Bom Baia recede. "But I think we got away. I think we did."
He grinned at Deschamps, clapped him on the shoulder, and went below to find his hat.
----
The Nictaux sailed from Tortuga a fortnight later. Jack had used the time at harbour to replace much of the rigging with new rope, and some of the hatches too. He stocked up with supplies, and then spent two days recruiting new crew. He had hoped that Gibbs would stay with him - over the past year, he had begun to rely on the old sailor - but Gibbs said no.
"I've a mind to stay put for a bit," he explained, when Jack suggested that he stay on. "It ain't you, Jack; an' I like the pirate life. I just want to sample Tortuga a bit longer."
Deschamps, however, did agree to continue as Jack's first mate, and more than half the crew signed the ship's articles for another voyage. The rest of the numbers were made up from men idling in Tortuga. Jack had been hoping to find his old friend Anamaria in town, but when he enquired after her it turned out she was at sea with another ship. He asked Gibbs to keep an eye out for her, and let her know where he was should she ask.
They sailed on a perfect morning, with a fresh, strong wind and calm seas. Captain André came to see them off, waving from the quayside. Jack doffed his hat and saluted the Nictaux's former owner, before the ship slipped out of the shelter of the harbour into open sea.
Jack had given some thought as to his plans. Although he desperately wanted the Black Pearl back, he was not sure that he could take her. He decided, therefore, to wait and see. If they came upon the Pearl, and an opportunity presented itself, then he would seize it with both hands. Otherwise, the Nictaux would head east, for Africa and India.
The first stage of the passage went well, and they cleared the easternmost islands in under two weeks. With a good wind and sunny weather, progress was good. When not occupied with the daily maintenance of the ship, the crew played games, talked, sang songs, and practised their sword skills. Jack insisted on the latter, challenging them all to try and beat him. Some of them came close, but few could match his agility even when they used the most blatant tricks in the book. Afterwards the pirates concentrated on working their way through one of the many barrels of rum Jack had brought on board.
But the weather changed as they approached the coast of Africa, and storms were brewing in the east. Jack took in sail and slowed the Nictaux down, and eventually made the decision to put in at Cape Town for a few days rather than attempt the Cape of Good Hope in current conditions. He had vivid memories of dark nights lashed to the mast, reefing until his fingers nearly dropped off, on his first time in these oceans. That had been nearly twenty years earlier, on the Black Pearl, when he had been young and - if not innocent - inexperienced.
In Cape Town, they restocked the hold with fresh food. Jack splashed out and bought his crew some good beef, which was eagerly devoured after weeks of dry, hard, salted fare. Then he allowed them an evening's shore leave, with strict instructions to return before dusk the next day.
The weather improved quickly, and the Nictaux rounded the Cape in calm weather. "Now," said Jack, as he ordered one of the reefs to be taken out of the sails, "let's find some prey." He glanced up at the set of the sails. "Three points to port, Mr Deschamps."
Deschamps adjusted the course. "I have never been to the East," he observed, as the Nictaux picked up speed.
"Oh, it's a wonderful part o' the world," Jack said. "Pretty lasses. Lots of swag. Idiots with frigates to avoid."
Deschamps nodded. He had heard Jack's tales of the East India Company and his daring escape from them. Everyone aboard had. Most of them only half-believed the story - though in fact it was one of the ones Jack exaggerated the least. After all, when a tale involved branding, imprisonment and a night swim in a strange harbour, what needed adding to it?
As they sailed closer to India, the traffic picked up and Jack began ordering raids. They looted and terrorised and fought, and celebrated each successful attack with rum and shanties. There were a few injuries in each raid, one of them serious when a pirate's thigh was slashed, but no deaths. Spirits were high.
Then the weather turned again, and the Nictaux was blown north on a night of high winds and torrential rain. Jack kicked Deschamps off the helm and took it over himself, steering as straight a course as he could. But the little two-master did not cope with stormy weather as well as larger ships he had known, and when morning came she was in a sorry state. Nothing was permanently damaged, but they needed to dock to tidy her up and make some repairs.
The nearest port, according to a rough chart Jack had, was the town of Bom Baia - not somewhere he had ever been before. It was marked as Portuguese on his chart. He ordered the Jolly Roger standard to be taken down, and they sailed into harbour as an unmarked ship, shabby from the storm.
"Captain," said young Sim, "ain't those English colours?"
Jack looked in the direction of Sim's pointing finger. From the top of a building the union flag blew.
"I thought the town was Portugal's?" Deschamps asked.
"So did I," Jack said, eyeing the flag. He raised his voice. "Drop anchor!"
The anchor rattled out, splashing into the water and settling fast.
Jack sent five men ashore with a shopping list of necessities, and himself stayed on board to supervise the start of the repairs. Sails had to be taken down to be mended; as a precaution, he had spare sails put up in their place in case there was the need for a hasty getaway. Some of the pirates settled down with sail needles and began sewing the rips in the canvas together. Others, starting from the opposite end of the ship, made up pails of tar and started caulking the cracks in the boards.
Before too long, the men who had gone ashore returned laden down with new rope and other items. They reported that the town was busy, but mostly with natives, though they had seen a few prosperous-looking white men. Jack eyed the other ships in the harbour and wondered whether any of them belonged to the East India Company. At least one of the frigates seemed likely. But there was no time to waste on speculation - there were repairs to do, and every man was needed to do them. Even Jack rolled up his sleeves and joined in, as the new rope was unrolled and the rigging replaced, line by line. The caulking and sail-mending were going well, and they managed to rerig the foresail before nightfall.
Jack called a halt at dusk, and the weary pirates trooped below to eat. The ship's cook had gone ashore too and returned with baskets of unusual stuff, and had cooked up a spicy stew with some rice and flat circles of bread. After that, Jack ordered the crew to their hammocks. He had no desire to hang around at anchor when there were merchant vessels to loot.
The next day, the repairs went on. It was hot work, and the sun beat down on the deck of the Nictaux. Things were going well, until halfway through the afternoon, when Deschamps approached Jack and told him that they had run out of rope.
"I asked for five lengths of 20 ells," Jack said. "Did they not get that?"
"They got four," Deschamps said. "We have need of another."
"Too damned right we do!" said Jack, exasperated. "It was a simple enough instruction. Do we need anythin' else?"
"A few things," Deschamps answered, listing a few small items.
Jack nodded. "All right, keep 'em at it. I'll go and buy them - if you want a job doin' right, best do it yourself, eh?"
"Oui," agreed Deschamps. Jack nodded, and was soon rowing his way across the harbour to shore.
He found the land rather too stable, and hurried along to the nearest ship's outfitters. His purchases made, and the order given to have the stuff delivered to the Nictaux within the hour, he set off back towards the harbour.
It was still hot, and Jack strolled along looking about himself with fascination, reflecting that he rather liked this part of the world. Less rum, perhaps, than the Caribbean, but the clothes and people were wonderfully colourful.
He had come ashore just as he was, in breeches and boots with the sleeves of his shirt folded up. It was only when he saw an Englishman in a dark blue suit with a sword at his hip staring at him that Jack realised the pure idiocy of not rolling the sleeves down. Here he was, in the middle of East India Company territory, wandering along displaying their "P" brand for all to see.
The Englishman had been joined by another now, and both were making their way briskly towards Jack. He cursed under his breath, and turned. Without running he made for the other end of the street. There, two roads intersected and there were far more people around, trying to go in different directions in a colourful mass of humanity. Jack slid himself into the crowd, moving quickly but as unobtrusively as he could. He was swept along until he passed the doorway of a shop filled with bright fabrics, and he slipped inside.
The middle-aged woman in green who evidently owned the shop put a hand to her mouth at the sight of Jack, and he hurriedly offered her a polite bow and a smile before gesturing to some of the vivid cotton wraps folded on the shop's shelves. She frowned, and pulled down a long piece of red.
"That'll do," Jack said, holding out a coin. "C'mon, love ..." He looked over his shoulder, and the woman must have picked up on his urgency for she gave him the fabric and took his coin.
Jack shook out the material and examined it. He had seen the local women in these bright outfits, a length of cotton or silk draped over their bodies, and cast over their faces.
The shop owner watched him as he attempted to wrap the red fabric around his body, and then, clearly trying not to laugh, she came to him and deftly folded and tucked and soon had it right.
Tucking telltale beads out of the way, Jack looked down at himself. He thought he probably looked all right - only his kohl-rimmed eyes showing above the red, and he was thankfully slightly built for a man - but he realised that his boots would be a dead giveaway. Cursing under his breath, he kicked the boots off.
The woman smiled at him, and pulled out a piece of rough cotton. She wrapped the boots in the cotton and passed them to him, indicating that he should carry them on his head.
"You're a genius, love," Jack said, nodding his head in thanks. He rested the boots on his head, took a deep breath, and set out again into the crowd.
He walked unhurriedly now, at the same pace as all the people around him. Nobody gave him a second glance, and he turned down towards the harbour. The crowd thinned now, and Englishmen were to be seen as well as the locals. A group of seven of them, swords drawn, were gathered in a group by the gangplank of one of the large frigates. Jack quickened his pace and was soon untying his small boat. As he paddled across to the Nictaux, one of the Englishmen called and waved, and then set off at a run in Jack's direction.
Jack looked over his shoulder. His ship was a hundred yards distant, and he quickened his stroke rate.
"Deschamps!" he called, in between strokes. "Get ready to make way."
"Capitaine?" Deschamps came to the rail. Jack glanced backwards at him, and then set his teeth and pulled harder.
"Throw me a line," he ordered, as he shipped the oars and came alongside the Nictaux, moments later. "And raise that bloody anchor, savvy?"
"Captain," said Deschamps, as he helped Jack on board, "why are you ...?"
He never got to finish his question. Jack pulled off the concealing red drapery and hurried to the helm, shouting orders as he did so. The newly-repaired sails were unfurled, and the Nictaux swung around to leave the harbour.
"Give 'em a shot," Jack said, hauling with all his weight on the helm. One of the ship's little cannon boomed, and a shot hit the water just ahead of a longboat that had been swiftly launched. The Nictaux was moving now, the wind filling her sails, and Jack handed the wheel over to one of his crewmen.
"What was that for?" Deschamps asked, as Jack came down to the main deck.
"East India Company," said Jack, leaning on the rail and watching Bom Baia recede. "But I think we got away. I think we did."
He grinned at Deschamps, clapped him on the shoulder, and went below to find his hat.