Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Author's note: thanks for the recent reviews. I hadn't written the sari-scene with Don Juan consciously in mind, but I do see the similarities!
This chapter's for Kayden Eidyak, who said "so what happened to Burns?"
----
They sailed until Jack was certain they had not been followed, and then he turned into a secluded and sheltered bay, where the anchor was dropped. Here the water was shallow and calm, and when the tide went out the pirates were able to begin cleaning and repairing the outside of the Nictaux as well as finish the repairs on board.
There were murmurs amongst the crew about the wisdom of sailing waters infested by the East India Company's ships, but Jack waved the criticism away.
"Wherever you sail there'll be folk after you," he pointed out one night, over a barrel of rum. "East India Company, some country's Navy ... the trick is to outdo 'em. That's where the fun is."
"Could be the end of us, too," someone said, morosely.
"Then we'll go down fighting," said Jack. "Rather that than hang, eh?"
After a week at anchor the repairs were complete. The Nictaux's hull was scraped clean of barnacles and weed, and the mended sails and new ropes were hung. "Nearly as good as new," Jack said, as he surveyed the vessel with folded arms. "Excellent. Time to move on."
They set the sails and headed south, keeping parallel to the coastline but at a reasonable distance. Jack wanted to get a little further from Bom Baia before they started attacking ships again, and so the first few days of sailing were quiet and without incident.
On the third day of sailing sails were sighted ahead. Jack ordered his crew to arm themselves, and they kept going with no colours hoisted, keeping an eye on the other ship. On closer inspection it proved to be a medium-sized brigantine with well-used cream sails, sailing, like the Nictaux, with no flag flying from the stern.
"Des pirates?" questioned Deschamps.
"Mebbe," Jack said, snapping his telescope shut.
Sure enough, when the brigantine was within hailing distance she raised a black flag bearing a be-hatted skull and crossbones. Jack ordered the Nictaux's colours to be raised also, and the two ships greeted each other with a shot across the bows.
"Ahoy there!" came the shout from the brigantine.
"Ahoy!" Jack returned.
The brigantine hove to alongside the Nictaux, and Jack could see her captain on the quarterdeck. The other man waved his hat in the air.
"Parley?" he suggested.
Jack glanced at Deschamps, who shrugged.
"C'est votre choix, capitaine," the Frenchman said.
"Aye, parley," Jack agreed.
Shortly, gangplanks were laid across the gap between the two ships, and the brigantine's captain crossed to the Nictaux.
"Captain Lloyd," he introduced himself, holding out a hand.
Jack took it and shook briefly. "Captain Jack Sparrow. Welcome aboard the Nictaux."
Captain Lloyd looked about him. "Handsome little ship ye have here, Captain Sparrow."
"She's not so bad." Jack turned to Deschamps. "Hold the fort for me, mate." Deschamps nodded, and Jack beckoned to Captain Lloyd. "Come and have a drink, cap'n, and we'll discuss business."
"I'd be glad to."
The two captains went below, and Jack uncorked a bottle of best rum and poured his visitor a generous tot. "Have a seat, captain."
Lloyd took the proffered cup, but did not sit, instead prowling the cabin examining the various bits and bobs on the walls and shelves. In truth there was not much - Jack had collected far more souvenirs of his voyages during his time on the Black Pearl - but what there was was varied and interesting. Jack took a seat, put his booted feet up on the cabin table, and watched Lloyd prowl.
"Been out here long?" he asked.
The other captain picked up a small pottery vase and turned it over. "Some years. You've come from the Caribbees."
"Aye, we have," Jack acknowledged. "Is that a problem?"
Lloyd put the vase down, glancing at Jack. "Not at all. In fact I'd like to suggest we sail together fer a while. These waters are fair swarming with East Indiamen, most better-armed than us - have you ever come across the East India Company, Captain Sparrow?"
Without a word, Jack put down his rum and rolled up his sleeve. Lloyd peered at the brand.
"Ah. I see you have."
"It was a long time ago," Jack said. "Different ship. But I'd not say no to the company for a few days."
Captain Lloyd pulled out a chair and sat down. "Where were you headed?"
"Malacca-way," said Jack, shrugging. "Wasn't really headin' anywhere fast."
"Malacca sounds as good as anywhere," Lloyd returned. "What if we find a prize?"
"Then we'll take equal shares," Jack suggested.
Captain Lloyd drained his cup of rum. "Agreed. What say you to anchorin' alongside me tonight - we'll head toward the shore - and celebrating the alliance?"
"Why not?" Jack said. "Then tomorrow we'll go and capture something."
They exchanged smiles, and went back on deck together, talking of the morrow.
As dusk fell, the Nictaux and Lloyd's brigantine, the Adventure, were anchored close together off a sandy beach. Gangplanks had been laid between the two vessels, enabling movement from one ship to the other, and the party was in full swing. A fiddle player from the Nictaux had joined forces with an accordionist from the Adventure, and the two of them were playing lively reels and hornpipes. Barrels of rum and brandy were broached, and the cooks from both ships had done themselves proud and were keeping the crews supplied with food.
Jack sat with a bottle and watched the two crews mingle. He'd already, drunkenly, told a few of his tales, and was content now to sit and nurse his rum and let the men enjoy themselves. He wasn't sure where Captain Lloyd had gone.
Footsteps sounded on the deck close by, and paused.
"Well, if it ain't Jack Sparrow." There was a metallic grate, and the end of a sharp sword appeared in front of Jack's face.
Jack looked up, and squinted past a scruffy ginger beard. "Captain Jack Sparrow," he said.
The point of the sword was lowered to rest against Jack's neck. "Captain, is it? Come a long way from that scrawny lad you were once - or mebbe you ain't."
Rising slowly, Jack faced the owner of the ginger beard. "Mr Burns," he said. "What in the name o' Neptune are you doing aboard me ship?"
"Came to the party, didn't I?" Burns scowled at Jack. "So you remember me, do you?"
Jack nodded. He did remember Burns - an unpleasant man who had taken a dislike to Jack many years before, when the two were crewmates aboard the Fiery Dragon. The whole episode had been decidedly unpleasant for the young Jack, and he had ended up being dumped unceremoniously on Martinique after Burns had set him up for theft. The red-haired man had promised to run Jack through if they ever met again.
"You're with Cap'n Lloyd?" Jack asked. The sword was still pressing lightly into his throat.
"Aye, I'm with Lloyd," Burns said.
"Does he know what sort of a man he's got on his ship?" said Jack. He looked over Burns's shoulder, and saw his crewman Sim meandering past. "Oy! Sim!"
"Captain?" Sim turned. "Are you ..."
"Fine, Sim," Jack said, reassuringly. "Just pop below and fetch me sword, will you? Mr Burns here and I have a little discussion we'd like to finish, savvy?"
"Aye, cap'n." Sim nodded, and hurried off.
"So you really are the captain of this ship?" Burns seemed surprised. "Oh."
Jack reached up and pushed the point of Burns's sword away from his neck. "Aye, oh. And as you're not captain aboard your ship, mate, I suggest you go and ask your captain if he minds you and me settlin' old scores." Sim ran up with Jack's sword, and he drew it and twirled it before Burns's face. "Unless you don't want to settle old scores, Mr Burns?"
Burns's face worked, and then with a wordless growl he sheathed his own blade and stalked off. Jack tipped up his bottle of rum and was disappointed to find it empty.
"Clear a space on deck, Sim," he told the young man. "And fetch Monsieur Deschamps, if you will."
Sim disappeared again.
Jack took off his hat and coat and flexed his right wrist thoughtfully. Last time he had fought Burns the victory had gone to him - not that it had done him much good, ultimately. Maybe this time would be different.
Clutching a mostly-empty bottle of brandy, Deschamps came up. "Capitaine?"
"We need space clearing on deck," Jack said without preamble. "Make sure the men stay back."
"What's happening?" Deschamps asked.
"Old scores to settle," Jack explained. "Like I said, just keep the men out of the way."
"Oui, capitaine," Deschamps said. "But I do not like it."
"Look, it'll be fine," Jack said airily. "I've beaten the bastard before, I'll do it again. If anything happens, take command. Not that anything will, mind."
Deschamps nodded, and went away again. Twirling his sword experimentally, Jack waited.
Next to arrive were Captain Lloyd, pink-faced from drink, and Burns, whose temper had evidently not cooled in the ten minutes he had been away. He snarled something unintelligible at Jack, who leaned backwards out of the range of Burns's rage.
"Calm down, mate," he said. "Captain Lloyd, I ask your permission to have a duel with your crewman 'ere."
"So I understand," Lloyd said. "You know each other?"
"Brief, unpleasant acquaintance some years back," Jack returned.
"Very well," agreed Captain Lloyd. "Just - don't kill him, Captain Sparrow? I see the two of you don't get on ..."
"Too right we don't," muttered Burns. Lloyd shot him an irritated look.
"You don't get on, but don't kill Mr Burns. He's a good pirate."
Jack nodded. "If that's your condition. I'd be grateful if Mr Burns would in turn refrain from killing me."
Scowling, Burns nodded, reluctant. Jack grinned, and twirled his sword.
"So let's get on wi' it, shall we?" he suggested.
Round about, Deschamps had cleared a space big enough for the duel to take place, and many of the pirates had gathered to watch. Bets were being laid - the crew of the Nictaux placing bets on Jack, the men of the Adventure preferring Burns.
The red-haired man drew his blade, and with a roar of incoherent anger attacked. Jack parried neatly, his feet moving backwards, and the fight was joined.
Burns was still heavier than Jack, and so much slower; but there was more power behind each thrust. Jack found himself having to think quickly to stay out of the other man's range and reach. The amount of rum he had consumed was not a help - luckily, Burns had been drinking too, and was clearly not as alert as he could have been.
They danced backwards and forwards across the deck, to shouts of encouragement from the crews. Jack's hair flew, Burns's brow was damp with sweat. This was no game, this was a fight in earnest. Neither man wanted to give an inch.
The duel went on. At intervals, it seemed as though one or other of them would drop their guard, but save for the odd scratch neither pirate really had an advantage.
"So how've you been, all these years?" Jack asked, attempting an uppercut.
"Better for thinkin' you dead," Burns panted.
"Sorry to disappoint." Jack parried and riposted. "I don't kill easy, me."
"What happened to that ship you were always talkin' of?" questioned Burns. "Not so great after all, was she?"
Jack felt a rush of pure hot anger sweep through him, and without replying he redoubled his efforts and laid into Burns as though his life did indeed depend on it. In a few moments, the older man was breathing heavily, clearly tired, and the next thing Jack knew he had managed to sweep Burns's sword out of his hand. The duel was over.
The Nictaux's men cheered wildly, and money began to change hands. Jack bent and picked up Burns's sword.
"I'll keep this, if you don't mind," he said. He turned to Captain Lloyd, who had been watching from close by. "And I'd be obliged, cap'n, if you kept this man off me ship from now on."
"Aye, I'll do that," Lloyd agreed. "I don't reckon I want to know what went on betwixt the two of ye, but I don't want it goin' on. Get on with you, Mr Burns, back to th'Adventure."
Burns, glaring, stomped off towards the gangplank.
Lloyd watched him go. "He does have a temper on him."
Sheathing his sword, Jack raised his eyebrows. "That's one way of puttin' it, mate."
"But I'm lookin' forward to finding a prize," Lloyd said. "I reckon the two of us could do some damage."
Jack picked up Burns's sword. "I hope we can. Take what we can, eh?"
"And give nothin' back," Lloyd finished. "We sail tomorrow?"
"We sail tomorrow," Jack agreed. He watched as the other captain wandered back towards the Adventure, and then turned to find a fresh drink.
Author's note: thanks for the recent reviews. I hadn't written the sari-scene with Don Juan consciously in mind, but I do see the similarities!
This chapter's for Kayden Eidyak, who said "so what happened to Burns?"
----
They sailed until Jack was certain they had not been followed, and then he turned into a secluded and sheltered bay, where the anchor was dropped. Here the water was shallow and calm, and when the tide went out the pirates were able to begin cleaning and repairing the outside of the Nictaux as well as finish the repairs on board.
There were murmurs amongst the crew about the wisdom of sailing waters infested by the East India Company's ships, but Jack waved the criticism away.
"Wherever you sail there'll be folk after you," he pointed out one night, over a barrel of rum. "East India Company, some country's Navy ... the trick is to outdo 'em. That's where the fun is."
"Could be the end of us, too," someone said, morosely.
"Then we'll go down fighting," said Jack. "Rather that than hang, eh?"
After a week at anchor the repairs were complete. The Nictaux's hull was scraped clean of barnacles and weed, and the mended sails and new ropes were hung. "Nearly as good as new," Jack said, as he surveyed the vessel with folded arms. "Excellent. Time to move on."
They set the sails and headed south, keeping parallel to the coastline but at a reasonable distance. Jack wanted to get a little further from Bom Baia before they started attacking ships again, and so the first few days of sailing were quiet and without incident.
On the third day of sailing sails were sighted ahead. Jack ordered his crew to arm themselves, and they kept going with no colours hoisted, keeping an eye on the other ship. On closer inspection it proved to be a medium-sized brigantine with well-used cream sails, sailing, like the Nictaux, with no flag flying from the stern.
"Des pirates?" questioned Deschamps.
"Mebbe," Jack said, snapping his telescope shut.
Sure enough, when the brigantine was within hailing distance she raised a black flag bearing a be-hatted skull and crossbones. Jack ordered the Nictaux's colours to be raised also, and the two ships greeted each other with a shot across the bows.
"Ahoy there!" came the shout from the brigantine.
"Ahoy!" Jack returned.
The brigantine hove to alongside the Nictaux, and Jack could see her captain on the quarterdeck. The other man waved his hat in the air.
"Parley?" he suggested.
Jack glanced at Deschamps, who shrugged.
"C'est votre choix, capitaine," the Frenchman said.
"Aye, parley," Jack agreed.
Shortly, gangplanks were laid across the gap between the two ships, and the brigantine's captain crossed to the Nictaux.
"Captain Lloyd," he introduced himself, holding out a hand.
Jack took it and shook briefly. "Captain Jack Sparrow. Welcome aboard the Nictaux."
Captain Lloyd looked about him. "Handsome little ship ye have here, Captain Sparrow."
"She's not so bad." Jack turned to Deschamps. "Hold the fort for me, mate." Deschamps nodded, and Jack beckoned to Captain Lloyd. "Come and have a drink, cap'n, and we'll discuss business."
"I'd be glad to."
The two captains went below, and Jack uncorked a bottle of best rum and poured his visitor a generous tot. "Have a seat, captain."
Lloyd took the proffered cup, but did not sit, instead prowling the cabin examining the various bits and bobs on the walls and shelves. In truth there was not much - Jack had collected far more souvenirs of his voyages during his time on the Black Pearl - but what there was was varied and interesting. Jack took a seat, put his booted feet up on the cabin table, and watched Lloyd prowl.
"Been out here long?" he asked.
The other captain picked up a small pottery vase and turned it over. "Some years. You've come from the Caribbees."
"Aye, we have," Jack acknowledged. "Is that a problem?"
Lloyd put the vase down, glancing at Jack. "Not at all. In fact I'd like to suggest we sail together fer a while. These waters are fair swarming with East Indiamen, most better-armed than us - have you ever come across the East India Company, Captain Sparrow?"
Without a word, Jack put down his rum and rolled up his sleeve. Lloyd peered at the brand.
"Ah. I see you have."
"It was a long time ago," Jack said. "Different ship. But I'd not say no to the company for a few days."
Captain Lloyd pulled out a chair and sat down. "Where were you headed?"
"Malacca-way," said Jack, shrugging. "Wasn't really headin' anywhere fast."
"Malacca sounds as good as anywhere," Lloyd returned. "What if we find a prize?"
"Then we'll take equal shares," Jack suggested.
Captain Lloyd drained his cup of rum. "Agreed. What say you to anchorin' alongside me tonight - we'll head toward the shore - and celebrating the alliance?"
"Why not?" Jack said. "Then tomorrow we'll go and capture something."
They exchanged smiles, and went back on deck together, talking of the morrow.
As dusk fell, the Nictaux and Lloyd's brigantine, the Adventure, were anchored close together off a sandy beach. Gangplanks had been laid between the two vessels, enabling movement from one ship to the other, and the party was in full swing. A fiddle player from the Nictaux had joined forces with an accordionist from the Adventure, and the two of them were playing lively reels and hornpipes. Barrels of rum and brandy were broached, and the cooks from both ships had done themselves proud and were keeping the crews supplied with food.
Jack sat with a bottle and watched the two crews mingle. He'd already, drunkenly, told a few of his tales, and was content now to sit and nurse his rum and let the men enjoy themselves. He wasn't sure where Captain Lloyd had gone.
Footsteps sounded on the deck close by, and paused.
"Well, if it ain't Jack Sparrow." There was a metallic grate, and the end of a sharp sword appeared in front of Jack's face.
Jack looked up, and squinted past a scruffy ginger beard. "Captain Jack Sparrow," he said.
The point of the sword was lowered to rest against Jack's neck. "Captain, is it? Come a long way from that scrawny lad you were once - or mebbe you ain't."
Rising slowly, Jack faced the owner of the ginger beard. "Mr Burns," he said. "What in the name o' Neptune are you doing aboard me ship?"
"Came to the party, didn't I?" Burns scowled at Jack. "So you remember me, do you?"
Jack nodded. He did remember Burns - an unpleasant man who had taken a dislike to Jack many years before, when the two were crewmates aboard the Fiery Dragon. The whole episode had been decidedly unpleasant for the young Jack, and he had ended up being dumped unceremoniously on Martinique after Burns had set him up for theft. The red-haired man had promised to run Jack through if they ever met again.
"You're with Cap'n Lloyd?" Jack asked. The sword was still pressing lightly into his throat.
"Aye, I'm with Lloyd," Burns said.
"Does he know what sort of a man he's got on his ship?" said Jack. He looked over Burns's shoulder, and saw his crewman Sim meandering past. "Oy! Sim!"
"Captain?" Sim turned. "Are you ..."
"Fine, Sim," Jack said, reassuringly. "Just pop below and fetch me sword, will you? Mr Burns here and I have a little discussion we'd like to finish, savvy?"
"Aye, cap'n." Sim nodded, and hurried off.
"So you really are the captain of this ship?" Burns seemed surprised. "Oh."
Jack reached up and pushed the point of Burns's sword away from his neck. "Aye, oh. And as you're not captain aboard your ship, mate, I suggest you go and ask your captain if he minds you and me settlin' old scores." Sim ran up with Jack's sword, and he drew it and twirled it before Burns's face. "Unless you don't want to settle old scores, Mr Burns?"
Burns's face worked, and then with a wordless growl he sheathed his own blade and stalked off. Jack tipped up his bottle of rum and was disappointed to find it empty.
"Clear a space on deck, Sim," he told the young man. "And fetch Monsieur Deschamps, if you will."
Sim disappeared again.
Jack took off his hat and coat and flexed his right wrist thoughtfully. Last time he had fought Burns the victory had gone to him - not that it had done him much good, ultimately. Maybe this time would be different.
Clutching a mostly-empty bottle of brandy, Deschamps came up. "Capitaine?"
"We need space clearing on deck," Jack said without preamble. "Make sure the men stay back."
"What's happening?" Deschamps asked.
"Old scores to settle," Jack explained. "Like I said, just keep the men out of the way."
"Oui, capitaine," Deschamps said. "But I do not like it."
"Look, it'll be fine," Jack said airily. "I've beaten the bastard before, I'll do it again. If anything happens, take command. Not that anything will, mind."
Deschamps nodded, and went away again. Twirling his sword experimentally, Jack waited.
Next to arrive were Captain Lloyd, pink-faced from drink, and Burns, whose temper had evidently not cooled in the ten minutes he had been away. He snarled something unintelligible at Jack, who leaned backwards out of the range of Burns's rage.
"Calm down, mate," he said. "Captain Lloyd, I ask your permission to have a duel with your crewman 'ere."
"So I understand," Lloyd said. "You know each other?"
"Brief, unpleasant acquaintance some years back," Jack returned.
"Very well," agreed Captain Lloyd. "Just - don't kill him, Captain Sparrow? I see the two of you don't get on ..."
"Too right we don't," muttered Burns. Lloyd shot him an irritated look.
"You don't get on, but don't kill Mr Burns. He's a good pirate."
Jack nodded. "If that's your condition. I'd be grateful if Mr Burns would in turn refrain from killing me."
Scowling, Burns nodded, reluctant. Jack grinned, and twirled his sword.
"So let's get on wi' it, shall we?" he suggested.
Round about, Deschamps had cleared a space big enough for the duel to take place, and many of the pirates had gathered to watch. Bets were being laid - the crew of the Nictaux placing bets on Jack, the men of the Adventure preferring Burns.
The red-haired man drew his blade, and with a roar of incoherent anger attacked. Jack parried neatly, his feet moving backwards, and the fight was joined.
Burns was still heavier than Jack, and so much slower; but there was more power behind each thrust. Jack found himself having to think quickly to stay out of the other man's range and reach. The amount of rum he had consumed was not a help - luckily, Burns had been drinking too, and was clearly not as alert as he could have been.
They danced backwards and forwards across the deck, to shouts of encouragement from the crews. Jack's hair flew, Burns's brow was damp with sweat. This was no game, this was a fight in earnest. Neither man wanted to give an inch.
The duel went on. At intervals, it seemed as though one or other of them would drop their guard, but save for the odd scratch neither pirate really had an advantage.
"So how've you been, all these years?" Jack asked, attempting an uppercut.
"Better for thinkin' you dead," Burns panted.
"Sorry to disappoint." Jack parried and riposted. "I don't kill easy, me."
"What happened to that ship you were always talkin' of?" questioned Burns. "Not so great after all, was she?"
Jack felt a rush of pure hot anger sweep through him, and without replying he redoubled his efforts and laid into Burns as though his life did indeed depend on it. In a few moments, the older man was breathing heavily, clearly tired, and the next thing Jack knew he had managed to sweep Burns's sword out of his hand. The duel was over.
The Nictaux's men cheered wildly, and money began to change hands. Jack bent and picked up Burns's sword.
"I'll keep this, if you don't mind," he said. He turned to Captain Lloyd, who had been watching from close by. "And I'd be obliged, cap'n, if you kept this man off me ship from now on."
"Aye, I'll do that," Lloyd agreed. "I don't reckon I want to know what went on betwixt the two of ye, but I don't want it goin' on. Get on with you, Mr Burns, back to th'Adventure."
Burns, glaring, stomped off towards the gangplank.
Lloyd watched him go. "He does have a temper on him."
Sheathing his sword, Jack raised his eyebrows. "That's one way of puttin' it, mate."
"But I'm lookin' forward to finding a prize," Lloyd said. "I reckon the two of us could do some damage."
Jack picked up Burns's sword. "I hope we can. Take what we can, eh?"
"And give nothin' back," Lloyd finished. "We sail tomorrow?"
"We sail tomorrow," Jack agreed. He watched as the other captain wandered back towards the Adventure, and then turned to find a fresh drink.