***Disclaimer: Still don't own PotC. But I still own all the stuff I said I did. Actually, why don't I just say that it's obvious that I own everything that is obviously not directly from Pirates of the Caribbean? This is turning out to be a moderately good first non-comedic story, eh?
Jack Sparrow's Black Pearl: yet more hearty praise! I could let this go to my head ;-) Well, probably not. It's a thankless job, not writing Mary-Sues!
Rae Roberts: You reivewed *just* after I had added chapter 5. That has to confuse the review history thing. This chapter is sort of when we get started in earnest ;-) I hope you enjoy it! ***
Chapter Four
"Here you are lad, " said Tom. "I'll be along in a moment, fetch ye something from the galley." He looked at Jack and Alex before turning away to walk along the dark passageway beyond the door. The cabin was small, of seemingly ancient oak timbers; their grains standing out in deep reliefs and riven with deep trenches. There were two bunks already made up with striped linen, and some finer stuff. Jack ran his hand over the fine material which clashed gaudily with the stripes.
"Oh, that," said Alex. "We take what we can get, Mr. Sparrow- Jack I mean." Jack drew his hand away as through the material singed his fingers. "Aye, it's stolen," continued Alex. "That we got, oh let me see, twas a Spaniard I think." He pointed to the upper bunk. "Ye may sleep there if you please, Jack." He himself sat on the floor while Jack rested against one of the oaken ribs.
Jack had already been provided with a fresh shirt of white linen, rather straight trousers and a faded blue vest. In his hands he now held the bundle that was what was left of his old clothes. While there was a hollow look in his eye yet the new clothes removed all questions of his soundness.
"You've shined up like a penny, Jack," said Alex. "With all that sand on ye it was hard to tell if you were fair or black!" Jack smiled and ran his hand through his hair.
"Aye, I'm black," said Jack. "Dark-eyed too."
"Perhaps the men' ll call you Black Jack then," said Alex. "If you decide to stay on. It's not a bad name for a privateer." Jack rolled his eyes.
"Bloody hell," murmured Jack. "I hope not." Jack looked down thoughtfully at Alex. This young man was a pirate, he said to himself. Inviting him to stay the night onboard a pirate ship, this guileless pup before him. Even through Jack and Alex were the same age, there were years lacking behind the other man's eyes. He thought about how strange this crew was; even though he had only met three crewmen and their captain, he was surprised at the spirit these men had and of the captain most of all.
"Alex," he said at last. "What sort of man is the captain?" The other man stood, and walked over to the lower bunk.
"Captain Hawthorne is a strange man," said Alex haltingly. "God bless 'em!" he smiled and sat down. Jack pulled over a wooden box nearby and took a seat. "Mostly, though, no one gets very close to him; like most captains you'll see. You don't cross him; no, never. Never sure what he'll do exactly, he's like that. But a brilliant man, and not one to be cruel to a cur e'n. He leaves punishments to the quartermaster, Mr. Playfair, as is proper. He himself would rather read below, than carouse goin' ashore. Sometime it seems he's like a hermit in that cabin of his but he's not unaccustomed to setting his hand to the rigging, especially when the heat is on."
"And was he always a privateer?" asked Jack. "I've never heard words so fine."
"Aye," said Alex. "There's that as well. It be hard to say where our cap'n got them fine words; surely from his many books. I can't read myself, and the captain's always waggin' that great head of his at me for shame when he's got that book in his hand. Sometimes I'll see him, and he'll see me while he roams the deck at night. He does so nearly every clear evening, for his own reasons. I'd say he was, if I may be so bold, likely a gentleman's bastard turned out."
The door to the cabin opened, and Tom Mc Cory came into the tiny compartment. "Small in 'ere innit?" The silver plate in his hand was loaded up with a slice of roast beef and some cabbage with a small roll on top, in his other hand he held a bottle of rum. "Here y'are Master Sparrow," said Tom handing the food and drink over to Jack. "A wee bit o' supper. Sorry we ain't got nothing finer." Jack laughed out loud at this.
"Nothin' finer? What?! I've only seen beef prob'ly ten times in my lifetime! What is the usual fare 'round here; venison?!" Alex grinned at this, and Tom backed up trying to make some space.
"Aye, this'll be one of the bonuses of which I spoke. Not all treasure is silver and gold; sometimes there's linen, beef and cabbage." Jack grinned thinly. "Aw, go on, no need to worry; we've already had our fill." Jack promptly tore into the roll, and got down to business on the beef. "Hungry thing, ain't ye?" Jack nodded. "Sure did clean up good too." He straightened.
"It's late now, lads. I'll be retirin' for the night. Jackie, if you need anythin' I'm across the passage; third cabin, aye?"
"Aye, goodnight Tom. And thank you for everything," said Jack.
"T'were nothing, lad. Shame if'n a man don't help an orphaned sailor's lad," he looked soberly at Jack. "Aye, hard luck, mate. Goodnight." Jack watched Tom close the door behind him, and heard his feet as they moved down the passage. After Jack had cleaned his plate, he and Alex lay on their bunks.
"Jack," said Alex. "Do you think you'll be stayin' long?"
"I don't know," said Jack. "I'm terrible tired," he yawned and threw himself deeper into the bunk. In the bunk below Alex nodded to himself, he reached out and snuffed the candle.
"Sleep well, Mr. Sparrow," he said.
"Sleep well, Mr. Corcoran," said Jack as he gratefully closed his eyes.
In the sky the moon had risen to its height over the undulating black wave. Even so, the night was dark for the moon was waning and gave little light. It was silent, and still as the winds gently rocked The Golden Bough in the water of the harbour. A black shape it was, featureless and large, against the shimmer of moonlight in the water. The deck creaked with the weight of footfalls slowly moving along the port side. The man walked slowly, placing his feet with a gracefully light tread. His grey eyes traced the dark lines of his ship against the shimmer below, and the haze above. There was no book in his hand. His eyes were large and filled with an unfathomed sadness, intensely felt. He knit together his dark brows and lifted his head into the breeze. For a moment the wind brushed his hair against his cheek and he only gazed off with his bright eyes and listened. Looking across his ship he abruptly turned and strode to the starboard side and lifted his spyglass to his eye.
"Blast!" he returned the glass, defeated by the dark, to his side and stood still once more. He breathed deeply, and narrowed his eyes. "All hands!" he bellowed so the rigging seemed to shake. "All hands on deck! Clear for action!" he strode back to his cabin as a few sailors on duty scrambled to alert the sleeping crew.
He opened his eyes, and frowned as he remembered where he was. Something was wrong, he could feel it. Below him Alex Corcoran was snoring contentedly in his bunk. He cautiously climbed down the ladder and stood on the deck. His eyes widened. He shot a glance at Alex and glared before rummaging around the room, careful not to make a noise. At last he found it; a cutlass. There was only a small beam of light entering the room from the moon beyond, and he lifted it into this letting the light illuminate the blade. He thanked Tom for the hearty meal he but he cursed him for lying. Taking another disappointed look at Alex Corcoran, he carefully drew back the door and slipped into the dark corridor.
It was pitch black in the passage, and Jack had to move half by feel half by instinct. Along he went feeling the doors as he passed, and breathing hard. The feeling of betrayal was heavy around his heart, and he bit his teeth against his own trustfulness. He had allowed himself to be captured, and dragged into villainy by cutthroats who made no apologies for their crimes. Now, at any moment, he would see them as they really are. And if he wasn't sharp, he'd find his lovely neck slit and that would be the end of Jack Sparrow.
"All hands on deck!" he abruptly spun around as he heard the noise echo down the passage. He could see nothing but he heard the doors opening one by one, and then the yellow haze of lanterns. His heart thrashing in his chest, he turned back and ran, stumbling on through the dark as the doors opened and he heard the orders being called, each melting into the other so he could no longer hear either.
"Watch it, lad!" shouted a voice next to him. Jack slid to a halt, as the large hand caught him from falling. In the darkness he lifted the cutlass and stared at the void around him. "Come this way, above," said the voice. "Ye can make yourself useful." Jack frowned, and lowered the cutlass. He allowed himself to be steered through the winding passageway until he suddenly entered a hallway lit by the same yellow lamps he had seen before. A tall man had been guiding him; he now emerged into the hazy light and pointed into the white of the twilight before continuing down another passage. In the light there was a staircase leading up to the deck where Jack heard that loud voice.
"Bring her around, lads! Double quick, now!"
This was his chance. Jack ran up the stairs and into the crowd of sailors on deck. The faces were strange, and the motion of the crowd disorienting. He didn't know what was happening to him, to the ship. He felt the deck and knew the ship was moving but where? Could he get to the rails in time? He tried again to press his way towards the starboard side.
"Mr. Sparrow!" He turned, and saw the face of Alex Corcoran. "Do you need a pistol, Mr. Sparrow?" Jack smiled back.
"No, I can take ye on with this!" he held up Alex's cutlass. "Thank you very much, by the way!" He turned and saw the group of sailors recede until he could see the water over the rails. He smiled, tucking the cutlass to his side and made a run for it. He reached the side, and smiled as he saw the water below. It would be easy to give himself to the sea. He paused. It was easy; too easy. Turning around he noticed at last that no one was trying to stop him. Tom McCory was visible nearby, he looked up and saw Jack.
"Bloody hell!" he shouted. He walked over to the rigging nearest Jack. "I'm sorry, lad! But we're for battle." He pointed to the horizon. "Spanish ship most likely, wants to clear us out I'd imagine." Jack could see the other ship now, growing larger and terribly real. Tom cursed again. "Rotten scum! Takin' us while in port! Jackie," Jack looked up at him askance. "You can jump ship now, but they might as well raid the town and then where will you be?" Jack suddenly felt shame spread over him.
"No, I'll stay," he said. Tom smiled and pointed to where he was needed. As Tom left Jack looked after him and noticed for the first time that the captain had been watching him. He paused as the captain slowly turned and walked away. Jack's shame rose into his cheeks and seared them. At the same time he couldn't be sure what was going on, what he was doing, who to trust anymore. His hands worked under Jack's gaze but he saw them in retarded time.
"Mr. Sparrow," Jack saw Alex had joined him. The other man held out a pistol to him. "I hope you won't need this," he added as Jack took it. "You know how to use it?" Jack nodded. He looked out at the black water and saw the smoky puffs of the cannons. The water exploded yards beyond the ship.
"They missed us!" said Jack.
"Ranging shot," said someone glumly. "They'll try again." Jack strained to see the captain as he faded in and out of the crowd, like a phantom. The ship was turning, presenting its bow to the other ship.
"We can't escape," said Jack to himself. "The bay is closed off. We'll have to fight!"
"Aye," said Alex. "It's us or them now, Jackie!" Jack looked out as the water exploded inches from the hull.
"Hurry it up, lads!" shouted the captain evenly as he looked out at the nearing ship. "We'll give 'em what for, by God, we will!" The ships neared each other rapidly, sliding close by. He raced alongside the ship and, placing his feet into the tackle, the captain leaped into the rigging and shouted to the winds. "Firing on one of His Majesty's ships in one of his sovereign ports, ay? Fie for shame, ye cowards all! Mangy curs and blighters! Brigands and slavers! Prepare you well for the end is near; your doom is at the door now, me hearties!" He swung in the wind as the captain of the other ship appeared on deck. "You fired on my ship, you bold-daring dog!" he growled.
By way of answer the other captain signalled to his crew. Captain Hawthorne spun around. "Fire!" he shouted. "Fire!" There was a simultaneous shuddering of both ships as they sent and received the iron blasts. Great clouds of smoke and fire illuminated the night. Jack slid along the deck as it heaved from the blast, the hull creaking thunderously. He looked across at the men of the other ship as they fumbled with ropes.
"They're boarding!" someone shouted. Jack looked down and cocked the pistol as he had seen his father do sometimes. He took two hands to do it carefully, then he levelled it to his dark eye and put it back to his side. The ship shuddered again, and Alex was beside him with a brace of pistols and a cutlass at his side. All around him the sailors prepared to meet the enemy.
"Be brave lads!" shouted the captain, drawing his cutlass and pistol. "Gentlemen! For the King!" Around him Jack saw the men lift their weapons.
"For the King!" they shouted together. At that moment the first men swung onto the deck and were met by the armed sailors and they struggled and grappled around in the dark while the air was rent with screams; the scream of steel upon steel, of dying men, and of war cries. Jack found himself in at the rail as a sailor swung over to the deck. He drew his cutlass and lunged at Jack. Jack was pushed back by the weight of the other man as he snarled something Jack didn't understand. He was too close now for his cutlass; it was entwined with the other man's and to draw it back would be death. In one motion Jack levelled the pistol and fired it at the man with both of his eyes opened. Those eyes watched the man slip away and the sword fell from his hand, a smoldering hole in his forehead. Nearly before the man hit the ground, Jack put down the pistol and looked around. The captain. The captain was pinned on the side of the ship with three men lunging at him with their swords. Jack didn't hesitate as he moved through the tangled, screaming mass of men and gunpowder smoke.
"These are pretty games, boys!" said the captain, as he tried to fend off the men with his two cutlasses. His swords flew through the air frenzied as he turned them on the men with his wrists. They slashed them aside, but it was a dangerous dance of death as they moved in and out, pushing the captain again into the railing. Jack pushed his way into their midst and slashed fiercely at one of the men. He turned and leaped at Jack who stepped sideways and went for him again. With one man occupied, the captain smiled and set to the remainder. Jack's sword shrieked as it slid along that of the other man. It seemed as though there would be no respite as he leaped now to the attack and now to escape the fell blows. Jack yelled out into the winds as he narrowed his dark eyes and buried his sword in the man's chest. He fell, and Jack looked once again to his captain with one of the men dead at his feet. Jack grabbed the pistol from the dead man, cocked it, and fired. The captain whirled around as the powder flew past and the man he fought staggered. Those grey eyes captured Jack's for an instant before he turned his gaze on the staggering man, and lifted a sword to his neck.
"Yield!" he commanded. The man swayed, looking at the bloodied hole in his arm. The sword was dropped from his hand, and the captain snatched it away. He threw it in the air, turning its hilt out and without taking his eyes off of the man held it out to Jack. "Mr. Sparrow," he said. Jack took the sword from him. "Find Mr. McCory. You and him take this dog to the brig." Jack eyed his prisoner suspiciously. He saw the defeat in his eyes.
"Aye, captain!" said Jack. The captain smiled and looked out at the enemy ship. "Tom!" shouted Jack as he looked around in the din and smoke. "Mr. McCory!" The man he was looking for heard his shouts from far off and came running. He was astonished to see the young man.
"That you Jackie boy?!" he said smiling, a bloodied sword in his hand.
"Prisoner, " said Jack. "Captain's orders." Mr. McCory smiled even broader, and levelled a pistol at the man.
"You consider yourself lucky, mate," he said. "We're the King's loyal privateers, 'an we don't take life lightly. Don't give us no trouble, mind! Else we won't be so friendly!" The man looked down at the deck.
"I don't think they speak English," said Jack helpfully as he nodded to the man.
"Oh well, I always wanted to say something like that," said Mr. McCory. Jack looked at him quizzically which only made him laugh as he pushed the man below.
Jack Sparrow's Black Pearl: yet more hearty praise! I could let this go to my head ;-) Well, probably not. It's a thankless job, not writing Mary-Sues!
Rae Roberts: You reivewed *just* after I had added chapter 5. That has to confuse the review history thing. This chapter is sort of when we get started in earnest ;-) I hope you enjoy it! ***
Chapter Four
"Here you are lad, " said Tom. "I'll be along in a moment, fetch ye something from the galley." He looked at Jack and Alex before turning away to walk along the dark passageway beyond the door. The cabin was small, of seemingly ancient oak timbers; their grains standing out in deep reliefs and riven with deep trenches. There were two bunks already made up with striped linen, and some finer stuff. Jack ran his hand over the fine material which clashed gaudily with the stripes.
"Oh, that," said Alex. "We take what we can get, Mr. Sparrow- Jack I mean." Jack drew his hand away as through the material singed his fingers. "Aye, it's stolen," continued Alex. "That we got, oh let me see, twas a Spaniard I think." He pointed to the upper bunk. "Ye may sleep there if you please, Jack." He himself sat on the floor while Jack rested against one of the oaken ribs.
Jack had already been provided with a fresh shirt of white linen, rather straight trousers and a faded blue vest. In his hands he now held the bundle that was what was left of his old clothes. While there was a hollow look in his eye yet the new clothes removed all questions of his soundness.
"You've shined up like a penny, Jack," said Alex. "With all that sand on ye it was hard to tell if you were fair or black!" Jack smiled and ran his hand through his hair.
"Aye, I'm black," said Jack. "Dark-eyed too."
"Perhaps the men' ll call you Black Jack then," said Alex. "If you decide to stay on. It's not a bad name for a privateer." Jack rolled his eyes.
"Bloody hell," murmured Jack. "I hope not." Jack looked down thoughtfully at Alex. This young man was a pirate, he said to himself. Inviting him to stay the night onboard a pirate ship, this guileless pup before him. Even through Jack and Alex were the same age, there were years lacking behind the other man's eyes. He thought about how strange this crew was; even though he had only met three crewmen and their captain, he was surprised at the spirit these men had and of the captain most of all.
"Alex," he said at last. "What sort of man is the captain?" The other man stood, and walked over to the lower bunk.
"Captain Hawthorne is a strange man," said Alex haltingly. "God bless 'em!" he smiled and sat down. Jack pulled over a wooden box nearby and took a seat. "Mostly, though, no one gets very close to him; like most captains you'll see. You don't cross him; no, never. Never sure what he'll do exactly, he's like that. But a brilliant man, and not one to be cruel to a cur e'n. He leaves punishments to the quartermaster, Mr. Playfair, as is proper. He himself would rather read below, than carouse goin' ashore. Sometime it seems he's like a hermit in that cabin of his but he's not unaccustomed to setting his hand to the rigging, especially when the heat is on."
"And was he always a privateer?" asked Jack. "I've never heard words so fine."
"Aye," said Alex. "There's that as well. It be hard to say where our cap'n got them fine words; surely from his many books. I can't read myself, and the captain's always waggin' that great head of his at me for shame when he's got that book in his hand. Sometimes I'll see him, and he'll see me while he roams the deck at night. He does so nearly every clear evening, for his own reasons. I'd say he was, if I may be so bold, likely a gentleman's bastard turned out."
The door to the cabin opened, and Tom Mc Cory came into the tiny compartment. "Small in 'ere innit?" The silver plate in his hand was loaded up with a slice of roast beef and some cabbage with a small roll on top, in his other hand he held a bottle of rum. "Here y'are Master Sparrow," said Tom handing the food and drink over to Jack. "A wee bit o' supper. Sorry we ain't got nothing finer." Jack laughed out loud at this.
"Nothin' finer? What?! I've only seen beef prob'ly ten times in my lifetime! What is the usual fare 'round here; venison?!" Alex grinned at this, and Tom backed up trying to make some space.
"Aye, this'll be one of the bonuses of which I spoke. Not all treasure is silver and gold; sometimes there's linen, beef and cabbage." Jack grinned thinly. "Aw, go on, no need to worry; we've already had our fill." Jack promptly tore into the roll, and got down to business on the beef. "Hungry thing, ain't ye?" Jack nodded. "Sure did clean up good too." He straightened.
"It's late now, lads. I'll be retirin' for the night. Jackie, if you need anythin' I'm across the passage; third cabin, aye?"
"Aye, goodnight Tom. And thank you for everything," said Jack.
"T'were nothing, lad. Shame if'n a man don't help an orphaned sailor's lad," he looked soberly at Jack. "Aye, hard luck, mate. Goodnight." Jack watched Tom close the door behind him, and heard his feet as they moved down the passage. After Jack had cleaned his plate, he and Alex lay on their bunks.
"Jack," said Alex. "Do you think you'll be stayin' long?"
"I don't know," said Jack. "I'm terrible tired," he yawned and threw himself deeper into the bunk. In the bunk below Alex nodded to himself, he reached out and snuffed the candle.
"Sleep well, Mr. Sparrow," he said.
"Sleep well, Mr. Corcoran," said Jack as he gratefully closed his eyes.
In the sky the moon had risen to its height over the undulating black wave. Even so, the night was dark for the moon was waning and gave little light. It was silent, and still as the winds gently rocked The Golden Bough in the water of the harbour. A black shape it was, featureless and large, against the shimmer of moonlight in the water. The deck creaked with the weight of footfalls slowly moving along the port side. The man walked slowly, placing his feet with a gracefully light tread. His grey eyes traced the dark lines of his ship against the shimmer below, and the haze above. There was no book in his hand. His eyes were large and filled with an unfathomed sadness, intensely felt. He knit together his dark brows and lifted his head into the breeze. For a moment the wind brushed his hair against his cheek and he only gazed off with his bright eyes and listened. Looking across his ship he abruptly turned and strode to the starboard side and lifted his spyglass to his eye.
"Blast!" he returned the glass, defeated by the dark, to his side and stood still once more. He breathed deeply, and narrowed his eyes. "All hands!" he bellowed so the rigging seemed to shake. "All hands on deck! Clear for action!" he strode back to his cabin as a few sailors on duty scrambled to alert the sleeping crew.
He opened his eyes, and frowned as he remembered where he was. Something was wrong, he could feel it. Below him Alex Corcoran was snoring contentedly in his bunk. He cautiously climbed down the ladder and stood on the deck. His eyes widened. He shot a glance at Alex and glared before rummaging around the room, careful not to make a noise. At last he found it; a cutlass. There was only a small beam of light entering the room from the moon beyond, and he lifted it into this letting the light illuminate the blade. He thanked Tom for the hearty meal he but he cursed him for lying. Taking another disappointed look at Alex Corcoran, he carefully drew back the door and slipped into the dark corridor.
It was pitch black in the passage, and Jack had to move half by feel half by instinct. Along he went feeling the doors as he passed, and breathing hard. The feeling of betrayal was heavy around his heart, and he bit his teeth against his own trustfulness. He had allowed himself to be captured, and dragged into villainy by cutthroats who made no apologies for their crimes. Now, at any moment, he would see them as they really are. And if he wasn't sharp, he'd find his lovely neck slit and that would be the end of Jack Sparrow.
"All hands on deck!" he abruptly spun around as he heard the noise echo down the passage. He could see nothing but he heard the doors opening one by one, and then the yellow haze of lanterns. His heart thrashing in his chest, he turned back and ran, stumbling on through the dark as the doors opened and he heard the orders being called, each melting into the other so he could no longer hear either.
"Watch it, lad!" shouted a voice next to him. Jack slid to a halt, as the large hand caught him from falling. In the darkness he lifted the cutlass and stared at the void around him. "Come this way, above," said the voice. "Ye can make yourself useful." Jack frowned, and lowered the cutlass. He allowed himself to be steered through the winding passageway until he suddenly entered a hallway lit by the same yellow lamps he had seen before. A tall man had been guiding him; he now emerged into the hazy light and pointed into the white of the twilight before continuing down another passage. In the light there was a staircase leading up to the deck where Jack heard that loud voice.
"Bring her around, lads! Double quick, now!"
This was his chance. Jack ran up the stairs and into the crowd of sailors on deck. The faces were strange, and the motion of the crowd disorienting. He didn't know what was happening to him, to the ship. He felt the deck and knew the ship was moving but where? Could he get to the rails in time? He tried again to press his way towards the starboard side.
"Mr. Sparrow!" He turned, and saw the face of Alex Corcoran. "Do you need a pistol, Mr. Sparrow?" Jack smiled back.
"No, I can take ye on with this!" he held up Alex's cutlass. "Thank you very much, by the way!" He turned and saw the group of sailors recede until he could see the water over the rails. He smiled, tucking the cutlass to his side and made a run for it. He reached the side, and smiled as he saw the water below. It would be easy to give himself to the sea. He paused. It was easy; too easy. Turning around he noticed at last that no one was trying to stop him. Tom McCory was visible nearby, he looked up and saw Jack.
"Bloody hell!" he shouted. He walked over to the rigging nearest Jack. "I'm sorry, lad! But we're for battle." He pointed to the horizon. "Spanish ship most likely, wants to clear us out I'd imagine." Jack could see the other ship now, growing larger and terribly real. Tom cursed again. "Rotten scum! Takin' us while in port! Jackie," Jack looked up at him askance. "You can jump ship now, but they might as well raid the town and then where will you be?" Jack suddenly felt shame spread over him.
"No, I'll stay," he said. Tom smiled and pointed to where he was needed. As Tom left Jack looked after him and noticed for the first time that the captain had been watching him. He paused as the captain slowly turned and walked away. Jack's shame rose into his cheeks and seared them. At the same time he couldn't be sure what was going on, what he was doing, who to trust anymore. His hands worked under Jack's gaze but he saw them in retarded time.
"Mr. Sparrow," Jack saw Alex had joined him. The other man held out a pistol to him. "I hope you won't need this," he added as Jack took it. "You know how to use it?" Jack nodded. He looked out at the black water and saw the smoky puffs of the cannons. The water exploded yards beyond the ship.
"They missed us!" said Jack.
"Ranging shot," said someone glumly. "They'll try again." Jack strained to see the captain as he faded in and out of the crowd, like a phantom. The ship was turning, presenting its bow to the other ship.
"We can't escape," said Jack to himself. "The bay is closed off. We'll have to fight!"
"Aye," said Alex. "It's us or them now, Jackie!" Jack looked out as the water exploded inches from the hull.
"Hurry it up, lads!" shouted the captain evenly as he looked out at the nearing ship. "We'll give 'em what for, by God, we will!" The ships neared each other rapidly, sliding close by. He raced alongside the ship and, placing his feet into the tackle, the captain leaped into the rigging and shouted to the winds. "Firing on one of His Majesty's ships in one of his sovereign ports, ay? Fie for shame, ye cowards all! Mangy curs and blighters! Brigands and slavers! Prepare you well for the end is near; your doom is at the door now, me hearties!" He swung in the wind as the captain of the other ship appeared on deck. "You fired on my ship, you bold-daring dog!" he growled.
By way of answer the other captain signalled to his crew. Captain Hawthorne spun around. "Fire!" he shouted. "Fire!" There was a simultaneous shuddering of both ships as they sent and received the iron blasts. Great clouds of smoke and fire illuminated the night. Jack slid along the deck as it heaved from the blast, the hull creaking thunderously. He looked across at the men of the other ship as they fumbled with ropes.
"They're boarding!" someone shouted. Jack looked down and cocked the pistol as he had seen his father do sometimes. He took two hands to do it carefully, then he levelled it to his dark eye and put it back to his side. The ship shuddered again, and Alex was beside him with a brace of pistols and a cutlass at his side. All around him the sailors prepared to meet the enemy.
"Be brave lads!" shouted the captain, drawing his cutlass and pistol. "Gentlemen! For the King!" Around him Jack saw the men lift their weapons.
"For the King!" they shouted together. At that moment the first men swung onto the deck and were met by the armed sailors and they struggled and grappled around in the dark while the air was rent with screams; the scream of steel upon steel, of dying men, and of war cries. Jack found himself in at the rail as a sailor swung over to the deck. He drew his cutlass and lunged at Jack. Jack was pushed back by the weight of the other man as he snarled something Jack didn't understand. He was too close now for his cutlass; it was entwined with the other man's and to draw it back would be death. In one motion Jack levelled the pistol and fired it at the man with both of his eyes opened. Those eyes watched the man slip away and the sword fell from his hand, a smoldering hole in his forehead. Nearly before the man hit the ground, Jack put down the pistol and looked around. The captain. The captain was pinned on the side of the ship with three men lunging at him with their swords. Jack didn't hesitate as he moved through the tangled, screaming mass of men and gunpowder smoke.
"These are pretty games, boys!" said the captain, as he tried to fend off the men with his two cutlasses. His swords flew through the air frenzied as he turned them on the men with his wrists. They slashed them aside, but it was a dangerous dance of death as they moved in and out, pushing the captain again into the railing. Jack pushed his way into their midst and slashed fiercely at one of the men. He turned and leaped at Jack who stepped sideways and went for him again. With one man occupied, the captain smiled and set to the remainder. Jack's sword shrieked as it slid along that of the other man. It seemed as though there would be no respite as he leaped now to the attack and now to escape the fell blows. Jack yelled out into the winds as he narrowed his dark eyes and buried his sword in the man's chest. He fell, and Jack looked once again to his captain with one of the men dead at his feet. Jack grabbed the pistol from the dead man, cocked it, and fired. The captain whirled around as the powder flew past and the man he fought staggered. Those grey eyes captured Jack's for an instant before he turned his gaze on the staggering man, and lifted a sword to his neck.
"Yield!" he commanded. The man swayed, looking at the bloodied hole in his arm. The sword was dropped from his hand, and the captain snatched it away. He threw it in the air, turning its hilt out and without taking his eyes off of the man held it out to Jack. "Mr. Sparrow," he said. Jack took the sword from him. "Find Mr. McCory. You and him take this dog to the brig." Jack eyed his prisoner suspiciously. He saw the defeat in his eyes.
"Aye, captain!" said Jack. The captain smiled and looked out at the enemy ship. "Tom!" shouted Jack as he looked around in the din and smoke. "Mr. McCory!" The man he was looking for heard his shouts from far off and came running. He was astonished to see the young man.
"That you Jackie boy?!" he said smiling, a bloodied sword in his hand.
"Prisoner, " said Jack. "Captain's orders." Mr. McCory smiled even broader, and levelled a pistol at the man.
"You consider yourself lucky, mate," he said. "We're the King's loyal privateers, 'an we don't take life lightly. Don't give us no trouble, mind! Else we won't be so friendly!" The man looked down at the deck.
"I don't think they speak English," said Jack helpfully as he nodded to the man.
"Oh well, I always wanted to say something like that," said Mr. McCory. Jack looked at him quizzically which only made him laugh as he pushed the man below.