Disclaimer: see chapter 1
----
One week later, the Nictaux sailed into Tortuga harbour. The crew were in a good mood, and cheered madly as Jack gave the order to lower the anchor. It rattled out through the hawser and splashed into the water, and they were at last in their home port.
The pirates seemed keen to be off, but Jack gathered them together and ordered the ship to be tidied. "Nobody's going ashore before the decks are clean enough to drink rum off and nothin's out of place," he said.
To their credit, the men nodded and set to, bringing out mops and pails to start swabbing the decks. In a remarkably short time, the ship was pin-neat and the boats were being launched to take the pirates ashore. Jack's pocket was heavy with a small bag of coins, destined for the previous owner of the Nictaux - the Frenchman Captain André - who was living with his mistress in a small house close to the harbour.
As it turned out, the captain himself was not at home. His mistress looked slightly disapprovingly at Jack, but conceded the information that André was to be found in the 'Faithful Bride'. Jack thanked her with a bow, and set off towards the tavern.
Once there, the night passed quickly and pleasantly; and, for all Jack could remember the next morning, ended pleasantly too, in the arms of a soft-bosomed Tortugan whore. He left the girl's rooms late, and headed blearily towards the harbour, hat pulled down low over hungover eyes. His mind was mostly on the Nictaux, and the various small repairs that needed to be done to her before they went ... well, wherever they were heading next. He had not quite decided on his future plans, and thought they would probably stay several weeks in Tortuga, if not longer.
Occupied with his thoughts, Jack rounded a corner and walked into something that yielded with a curse and the thud of several parcels hitting the ground.
"Idiot!" the object said, in furious tones, bending to pick up the parcels.
Jack tipped the brim of his hat back and peered at the slim figure in shirt and breeches who was gathering together the scattered shopping. "Sorry, mate," he said. "Here, let me help you."
The other person looked up, briefly, and he caught a glimpse of angry dark eyes over the parcels.
"Huh."
Wondering what to say next, Jack handed over some packages mutely, and the young man he had bumped into straightened with his arms full.
"These things 'appen," Jack said. "Nothing broken, I hope."
He expected a bitter response, and was surprised when he got silence. He tried peering under the brim of the floppy hat the other was wearing - not a great hat, he considered - but got nowhere.
The silence lasted for a few long minutes, and Jack was working out how to escape, when the young man spoke.
"When did you get in, Jack?"
Jack stared for a moment. The other laughed, and pulled off his floppy hat.
"Anamaria!" Jack found a genuine smile spreading across his face. "You look ..." he tailed off, for once lost for words, as he examined his old friend. He had taken her for a boy at first, thanks to her clothes and the concealing hat, but now that her hair swung free down her back he saw his mistake. It had been a good five years since the two had met, and he had forgotten Anamaria's stern beauty - too often hidden by men's clothes and a grim expression. But now her eyes had lost their anger, and she was smiling broadly back at him.
"Look what?" she asked now, shifting the weight of the parcels in her arms.
"Good," he said, honestly. "Been at sea?"
"Came in a week ago," Anamaria returned. "Been aboard the Relentless."
"Never heard of her," Jack said. "Good ship?"
"A ship," shrugged Anamaria, her face non-committal. "You?"
"Docked last night," Jack returned. "Me ship, the Nictaux, 's docked in the harbour."
"Your ship?" Anamaria shifted the parcels again, and Jack picked a few of them off the top of the pile. "What about the Pearl? You have not given up on her?"
"Given up?" Jack said. "No. Never. Why would I do that? I'll keep looking for the Pearl, but it's a question of waiting for the opportune moment, love.You know that." He paused. "Nah, the Nictaux's a little thing I've been sailing for a while now. Neat little craft." He gestured, as best he could with his arms full of packages. "Come and have a look."
Anamaria frowned. "I should get these to my ship."
"Drop 'em off, and come for a tot of rum," he suggested.
"Rum?" She laughed. "Jack, it's morning!"
"Never too early for rum."
She kept laughing, but agreed to his plan - with the proviso that rum was not an integral part of the expedition.
The Relentless was a slightly shabby square-rigger moored to the quayside. Anamaria trotted up the gangplank, deposited her parcels in the arms of a sailor on deck, and turned straight back round. Jack tried to put his arm around her as they headed towards the Nictaux's boats, but she batted his fluttering hand away and gave him a severe look. He smiled at her, putting on his best innocent face, and she relaxed her glare.
They cast off the Nictaux's smallest boat and Jack took the oars, pulling a steady rhythm across the bay to the ship. Sitting in the stern, Anamaria's eyes flickered between Jack and the approaching vessel, but she said nothing until they were both aboard the Nictaux.
"She's not the Pearl."
"No, she's not the Pearl." Jack caressed the rail, and looked around for something to tidy, but the crew had left no line out of place. "But she's a good little ship. Clap enough canvas on and she'll take you wherever you want to go, and who could ask more?"
"True enough." Anamaria squinted upwards at the mainmast. "And the crew?"
"Good men," Jack said. "Got a couple of good mates, carpenter's a gem, rest of 'em aren't so bad neither." He paused, remembering something. "Did you ever meet a man by the name of Gibbs? Old Navy man. Whiskery."
She nodded. "Aye, I did. It was he who got me the berth on the Relentless. He said you taught him how to be a pirate."
"Pirate, mebbe," said Jack. "But he was already a good sailor. Is he in port?"
"He is always in port," Anamaria returned. "He is one of those who finds crews for other men. Sometimes he goes to sea, for a while. But now, everyone knows that Joshamee Gibbs is the man to go to for a crew."
"Is he, now?" Jack said. "That's interesting." He gestured at the ship. "What do you think? Grand tour?"
She nodded, and he led her off around the vessel. Anamaria admired the packed cargo hold, and seemed to approve of the neat quarters below. They ended up in Jack's cabin, which was in its usual messy state, charts strewn across the table. She leafed through the parchments, and looked up at him.
"Are you leaving again?"
"Shortly. Maybe." Jack dug a bottle of rum out of a cupboard and held it out. "Rum?"
"You said there would be no rum."
"I said rum wouldn't be the purpose of the expedition, love," he pointed out. "This ain't the purpose, it's just refreshment, like."
Anamaria perched on the edge of the table. "Why do you drink so much, Jack?"
He tipped the bottle to his mouth, and felt a rush of warmth rush to his belly. "Pirate?" She just looked at him, unsmiling, and he lowered the bottle. "What?"
"Gibbs reckoned you were mostly drunk. Said it made no difference to the way you sailed, but ..."
"Look, comin' from the man whose skin is always full of something," said Jack, defensive, "I call that unfair. Here we are, haven't seen each other for five years, and you're worrying I'm drinking too much. When there's a town full o' men who're constantly sozzled. And I don't drink much more than I used to."
"Non?"
"Non." He corked the bottle and put it down. "Honest."
"You're never honest."
He grinned. "Course not. Pirate, remember?"
Finally letting herself smile, Anamaria shook her head at him, fondly. "You are as mad as ever, Jack Sparrow. I think I missed you."
"I know I missed you," he said.
There was noise from outside, as a boat came alongside and people climbed aboard the Nicataux. Jack straightened his hat.
"Better go and see who that is," he said. "Coming?"
She nodded. "Lead the way, Captain Sparrow."
It turned out that those coming aboard were Deschamps and other members of the crew. They brought supplies - casks of meat and fish - and paused in the unloading of the boat as Jack and Anamaria emerged on deck.
"Bonjour, capitaine," Deschamps said, with a knowing grin at Anamaria.
"Mr Deschamps," Jack returned, "I'd like you to meet an old crewmate of mine. Anamaria, this is me first mate, Jean Deschamps. Speaks your lingo."
"I speak Creole," Anamaria said.
Jack was tempted to say that French and Creole amounted to the same thing, but knew that would be pushing his luck a little. So he forebore, and merely shot Anamaria a swift grin.
Deschamps nodded at Anamaria in a friendly fashion. "Mademoiselle."
"Ana," said Anamaria. "Vous êtes français?"
"Like our ship," Deschamps said in English.
Jack and Anamaria stood aside, and watched as the men unloaded the supplies. Leaning on the rail, Jack glanced sideways at his friend. "So, fancy joining us when we sail?"
She examined her fingernails. "I can't. The articles for the Relentless, they have another six months." Shrugging, she looked at him from under the brim of her hat. "I am sorry, Jack. You know I would come, if I could."
"S'alright."
They fell silent. Across the deck, one of the men dropped a barrel, and Jack hurried to make sure nothing was damaged and give the pirate responsible a brief tongue-lashing. Anamaria smiled, and while he was occupied, slipped away.
The Relentless sailed that evening. Jack watched her go from the top of the Nictaux's foremast, and wished he had tried to persuade Anamaria to stay. But there was no use in crying over a lost sail, as it were, and philosophically he decided to settle to making the repairs on his own ship and following the other vessel's lead, as soon as possible. Tortuga was good, but there was no doubt in Jack's mind that the open sea was far, far better.
----
One week later, the Nictaux sailed into Tortuga harbour. The crew were in a good mood, and cheered madly as Jack gave the order to lower the anchor. It rattled out through the hawser and splashed into the water, and they were at last in their home port.
The pirates seemed keen to be off, but Jack gathered them together and ordered the ship to be tidied. "Nobody's going ashore before the decks are clean enough to drink rum off and nothin's out of place," he said.
To their credit, the men nodded and set to, bringing out mops and pails to start swabbing the decks. In a remarkably short time, the ship was pin-neat and the boats were being launched to take the pirates ashore. Jack's pocket was heavy with a small bag of coins, destined for the previous owner of the Nictaux - the Frenchman Captain André - who was living with his mistress in a small house close to the harbour.
As it turned out, the captain himself was not at home. His mistress looked slightly disapprovingly at Jack, but conceded the information that André was to be found in the 'Faithful Bride'. Jack thanked her with a bow, and set off towards the tavern.
Once there, the night passed quickly and pleasantly; and, for all Jack could remember the next morning, ended pleasantly too, in the arms of a soft-bosomed Tortugan whore. He left the girl's rooms late, and headed blearily towards the harbour, hat pulled down low over hungover eyes. His mind was mostly on the Nictaux, and the various small repairs that needed to be done to her before they went ... well, wherever they were heading next. He had not quite decided on his future plans, and thought they would probably stay several weeks in Tortuga, if not longer.
Occupied with his thoughts, Jack rounded a corner and walked into something that yielded with a curse and the thud of several parcels hitting the ground.
"Idiot!" the object said, in furious tones, bending to pick up the parcels.
Jack tipped the brim of his hat back and peered at the slim figure in shirt and breeches who was gathering together the scattered shopping. "Sorry, mate," he said. "Here, let me help you."
The other person looked up, briefly, and he caught a glimpse of angry dark eyes over the parcels.
"Huh."
Wondering what to say next, Jack handed over some packages mutely, and the young man he had bumped into straightened with his arms full.
"These things 'appen," Jack said. "Nothing broken, I hope."
He expected a bitter response, and was surprised when he got silence. He tried peering under the brim of the floppy hat the other was wearing - not a great hat, he considered - but got nowhere.
The silence lasted for a few long minutes, and Jack was working out how to escape, when the young man spoke.
"When did you get in, Jack?"
Jack stared for a moment. The other laughed, and pulled off his floppy hat.
"Anamaria!" Jack found a genuine smile spreading across his face. "You look ..." he tailed off, for once lost for words, as he examined his old friend. He had taken her for a boy at first, thanks to her clothes and the concealing hat, but now that her hair swung free down her back he saw his mistake. It had been a good five years since the two had met, and he had forgotten Anamaria's stern beauty - too often hidden by men's clothes and a grim expression. But now her eyes had lost their anger, and she was smiling broadly back at him.
"Look what?" she asked now, shifting the weight of the parcels in her arms.
"Good," he said, honestly. "Been at sea?"
"Came in a week ago," Anamaria returned. "Been aboard the Relentless."
"Never heard of her," Jack said. "Good ship?"
"A ship," shrugged Anamaria, her face non-committal. "You?"
"Docked last night," Jack returned. "Me ship, the Nictaux, 's docked in the harbour."
"Your ship?" Anamaria shifted the parcels again, and Jack picked a few of them off the top of the pile. "What about the Pearl? You have not given up on her?"
"Given up?" Jack said. "No. Never. Why would I do that? I'll keep looking for the Pearl, but it's a question of waiting for the opportune moment, love.You know that." He paused. "Nah, the Nictaux's a little thing I've been sailing for a while now. Neat little craft." He gestured, as best he could with his arms full of packages. "Come and have a look."
Anamaria frowned. "I should get these to my ship."
"Drop 'em off, and come for a tot of rum," he suggested.
"Rum?" She laughed. "Jack, it's morning!"
"Never too early for rum."
She kept laughing, but agreed to his plan - with the proviso that rum was not an integral part of the expedition.
The Relentless was a slightly shabby square-rigger moored to the quayside. Anamaria trotted up the gangplank, deposited her parcels in the arms of a sailor on deck, and turned straight back round. Jack tried to put his arm around her as they headed towards the Nictaux's boats, but she batted his fluttering hand away and gave him a severe look. He smiled at her, putting on his best innocent face, and she relaxed her glare.
They cast off the Nictaux's smallest boat and Jack took the oars, pulling a steady rhythm across the bay to the ship. Sitting in the stern, Anamaria's eyes flickered between Jack and the approaching vessel, but she said nothing until they were both aboard the Nictaux.
"She's not the Pearl."
"No, she's not the Pearl." Jack caressed the rail, and looked around for something to tidy, but the crew had left no line out of place. "But she's a good little ship. Clap enough canvas on and she'll take you wherever you want to go, and who could ask more?"
"True enough." Anamaria squinted upwards at the mainmast. "And the crew?"
"Good men," Jack said. "Got a couple of good mates, carpenter's a gem, rest of 'em aren't so bad neither." He paused, remembering something. "Did you ever meet a man by the name of Gibbs? Old Navy man. Whiskery."
She nodded. "Aye, I did. It was he who got me the berth on the Relentless. He said you taught him how to be a pirate."
"Pirate, mebbe," said Jack. "But he was already a good sailor. Is he in port?"
"He is always in port," Anamaria returned. "He is one of those who finds crews for other men. Sometimes he goes to sea, for a while. But now, everyone knows that Joshamee Gibbs is the man to go to for a crew."
"Is he, now?" Jack said. "That's interesting." He gestured at the ship. "What do you think? Grand tour?"
She nodded, and he led her off around the vessel. Anamaria admired the packed cargo hold, and seemed to approve of the neat quarters below. They ended up in Jack's cabin, which was in its usual messy state, charts strewn across the table. She leafed through the parchments, and looked up at him.
"Are you leaving again?"
"Shortly. Maybe." Jack dug a bottle of rum out of a cupboard and held it out. "Rum?"
"You said there would be no rum."
"I said rum wouldn't be the purpose of the expedition, love," he pointed out. "This ain't the purpose, it's just refreshment, like."
Anamaria perched on the edge of the table. "Why do you drink so much, Jack?"
He tipped the bottle to his mouth, and felt a rush of warmth rush to his belly. "Pirate?" She just looked at him, unsmiling, and he lowered the bottle. "What?"
"Gibbs reckoned you were mostly drunk. Said it made no difference to the way you sailed, but ..."
"Look, comin' from the man whose skin is always full of something," said Jack, defensive, "I call that unfair. Here we are, haven't seen each other for five years, and you're worrying I'm drinking too much. When there's a town full o' men who're constantly sozzled. And I don't drink much more than I used to."
"Non?"
"Non." He corked the bottle and put it down. "Honest."
"You're never honest."
He grinned. "Course not. Pirate, remember?"
Finally letting herself smile, Anamaria shook her head at him, fondly. "You are as mad as ever, Jack Sparrow. I think I missed you."
"I know I missed you," he said.
There was noise from outside, as a boat came alongside and people climbed aboard the Nicataux. Jack straightened his hat.
"Better go and see who that is," he said. "Coming?"
She nodded. "Lead the way, Captain Sparrow."
It turned out that those coming aboard were Deschamps and other members of the crew. They brought supplies - casks of meat and fish - and paused in the unloading of the boat as Jack and Anamaria emerged on deck.
"Bonjour, capitaine," Deschamps said, with a knowing grin at Anamaria.
"Mr Deschamps," Jack returned, "I'd like you to meet an old crewmate of mine. Anamaria, this is me first mate, Jean Deschamps. Speaks your lingo."
"I speak Creole," Anamaria said.
Jack was tempted to say that French and Creole amounted to the same thing, but knew that would be pushing his luck a little. So he forebore, and merely shot Anamaria a swift grin.
Deschamps nodded at Anamaria in a friendly fashion. "Mademoiselle."
"Ana," said Anamaria. "Vous êtes français?"
"Like our ship," Deschamps said in English.
Jack and Anamaria stood aside, and watched as the men unloaded the supplies. Leaning on the rail, Jack glanced sideways at his friend. "So, fancy joining us when we sail?"
She examined her fingernails. "I can't. The articles for the Relentless, they have another six months." Shrugging, she looked at him from under the brim of her hat. "I am sorry, Jack. You know I would come, if I could."
"S'alright."
They fell silent. Across the deck, one of the men dropped a barrel, and Jack hurried to make sure nothing was damaged and give the pirate responsible a brief tongue-lashing. Anamaria smiled, and while he was occupied, slipped away.
The Relentless sailed that evening. Jack watched her go from the top of the Nictaux's foremast, and wished he had tried to persuade Anamaria to stay. But there was no use in crying over a lost sail, as it were, and philosophically he decided to settle to making the repairs on his own ship and following the other vessel's lead, as soon as possible. Tortuga was good, but there was no doubt in Jack's mind that the open sea was far, far better.