Disclaimer: see chapter 1


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"The man who first told me about the Isla de Muerte," the stranger said, "was an old man in a tavern. Dunno who he was, or where he'd come from, but he knew me and he knew I'd be snared by the tale of Cortés's treasure. He span me his yarn, told me about the island you can't find 'cept when you know where it is."

"Wait." I leaned forward. "Cortés's treasure? The Cortés?"

"The one who slaughtered the Aztecs, aye, that's the one." He flicked a hand covered in silver rings. "So there I was, and this old man gives me an old compass and says, 'follow that compass, Captain Sparrow, and you'll find treasure beyond your wildest dreams'."

Toni and I exchanged glances. "Captain Sparrow? That's you?" I asked.

"Jack Sparrow," he said. "I s'pose you could say I'm a captain, still, though at the moment me and my ship are lacking a crew." He paused. "Back then, it was easier to pick up a crew. I found the men and we set sail. Only me mate Barbossa decided he'd have a share in what I knew, and mutinied a week out of port. Marooned me on a measly spit o' sand."

"Marooned?" Toni mouthed at me.

Our companion, Jack Sparrow, lifted an eyebrow at us. "I know what you're thinking, love," he said. "Folk don't mutiny these days, or maroon. Bide your time and I'll get to that part of the story."

The waiter went past, and Sparrow stopped him and ordered a glass of beer. This gave me a chance to consider the stranger. His unusual appearance tallied with oddities in his manner and speech – for all he looked like a sixties reject, the way he spoke rang of a much earlier time. His accent reminded me a little of home, echos of London in the vowels, but only a little. And if his eyes had not been so clear and direct, I would have sworn he was drunk from the way he ran words together.

"Took me ten years to find my ship again," Jack Sparrow went on. "Ten years. But I did, eventually, and I tracked Barbossa down." His hand fluttered. "And I shot 'im, one shot sweet as you like in his heart. After that …" he paused, and smiled a glittering smile at us, "after that I got my ship back."

We looked at each other, and back at Jack Sparrow. He had lit another cigarette and was leaning back smoking it contentedly.

"Let me get this straight," I said. "You had a ship. Then your crew mutinied and marooned you. Eventually you found the mutineers and shot the leader?"

"Could put it that way," Sparrow agreed. "O'course, there's a bit I missed." He ground out the cigarette. "The gold of the Isla de Muerte is cursed, savvy? When Barbossa and his band of scurvy knaves got there and took it, they were condemned to a worthless existence. Undead. Empty vessels. To win back my ship, they needed to lift the curse." Fiddling with a ring, he met my eyes. "But before they did, I took a coin from that stone chest. For ten minutes, I was immortal. Couldn't be killed. And those ten minutes, they haunted me. Couldn't stop thinkin' about them, even when I was out at sea with my Pearl."

Toni raised an eyebrow.

"The Black Pearl," explained Jack Sparrow. "My ship. The loveliest and the fastest to ever sail these waters. Long since dead, may Neptune look after her."

Watching him, I sensed real regret and sorrow, but Sparrow did not let the moment linger. He shrugged, and carried on.

"That treasure haunted me. 'Bout ten years after I'd killed Barbossa and got the Pearl back, we ran into a spot of bad luck. The Navy got hold of some of me crew, and hung them, and I realised I didn't want to die. So …" he shrugged, "I went back to the Isla de Muerte, and I took a coin from that chest." Jack Sparrow looked at us with those dark eyes. "Which is why," he said, "I hope you left it be. 'Cos immortality isn't really all it's cracked up to be."

"We didn't touch it," I said. "Well, we didn't take anything." I glanced at Toni. "Mr Sparrow, will you excuse us a moment?"

Toni followed me away from the table, and leaned on a railing looking down into the turquoise water below. "Well?" she asked.

"This man's either insane," I said, "or he's not. And if he's not, then he's a killer. He says he shot a man."

"What do you think?" Toni questioned. "You're the people person."

I considered, glancing back to where Jack Sparrow was toying with his beer. "I don't think he's mad," I said, slowly. "I think he tries to make people think he's mad, but he's not."

"So he shot a man," she said, running a finger along the grain of the railing. "The question is, when? Is he trying to cover something up by spinning us this crazy story about a curse?"

"Or …" I tailed off, and laughed. "No, the other option really is mad."

"I vote we ask him, see what he says," Toni suggested. "Got nothing to lose."

We went back to the table, and sat. Jack Sparrow swallowed a mouthful of beer and put his glass carefully down.

"Let me guess," he said. "You've decided I'm barking."

I shook my head. "For the moment, no."

He regarded me with a quizzical glint deep in those dark eyes. "Most people would have gone running for the blokes in white coats by now," he said. "Why haven't you?"

"I'm an anthropologist," I explained. "I study …"

"People, aye." I must have looked surprised, because Jack Sparrow smiled. "I know what an anthropologist is, love. Folk always called me daft, but I'm not. And you know I'm not."

I leaned on the table. "To be frank, Mr Sparrow, I'm not sure what to believe."

"I'm tellin' the truth."

"I'd like to think so," I said, "but really – curses, and being marooned? It's like Treasure Island."

He smiled again, a brief upward turn of the lips. "Ah, old Stevenson. I always liked his tales."

"But they were just that, tales," I pointed out. "You're asking us to believe you." I paused, before soldiering on. "And besides: marooning and mutinies don't happen these days."

"You'd be surprised," Sparrow returned. "But aye, not so much."

"So?" I said. "You've spun us your yarn, Mr Sparrow, but let's have some facts. We're scientists, Toni and I. We deal in facts. When did all this take place?"

"Well," he said, slowly, "most of it happened before the quake that sank Port Royal … I must've gone back to the island some three years after that. Been a while."

Toni was shaking her head. "The Port Royal earthquake was in 1692."

"Was that the date? I never can recall."

"Three hundred years!" Toni said.

I said nothing. I watched Jack Sparrow as he let his words sink into our mind. He was picking at his nails with a toothpick, thick dark locks falling over his eyes. Utterly calm and composed, very much the master of himself and, I think, of the situation. He was clearly rather enjoying himself, enjoying telling his outrageous story and enjoying the reaction he was getting.

"Tell me something about this Barbossa," I said, slowly. "What was he wearing, the day he died?"

Jack Sparrow looked up at me, his face utterly serious.

"Clever girl," he said. "But how do you know I remember?"

"Events like that mark a person," I returned. "Not something you'll forget. Even in three centuries."

He nodded. "Aye, you're right. He had his hat on. Big daft thing with a floppy brim, an' a feather in it. That won't have lasted. Belt for his sword, plus an ordinary belt, so there'll be buckles. Rings on his fingers." He waggled his own be-ringed hands in the air. "He wore a necklace, too. Gaudy thing, it was." Sparrow raised his eyebrows at me. "Did I pass?"

Toni was leafing through her notes, and she nodded. Jack Sparrow looked pleased with himself.

"But anyone could have guessed all that," Toni pointed out, laying down her notebook. "Standard wear for a seventeenth-century man. Sailor. Whatever."

"Pirate," said Jack Sparrow.

We stared at him.

"Hadn't you worked that out?" he said, his eyes dancing. "Barbossa and me and me crew – we were pirates."

"Well … we'd hoped the cave was a pirate hoard," I said. "But …"

Jack Sparrow stood up. "I reckon I've got some stuff you ladies would be int'rested in. Back on my boat."

Toni started to roll up the plan.

"Boat?" I asked.

"You might say I'm still a pirate," Sparrow said. "Those I rob now are gullible tourists. Lure 'em on board, take 'em for a sail, charge 'em plenty over the odds for the privilege." He grinned. "Things ain't changed that much in three hundred years. She's moored in the marina. Shall we?"

I felt a rush of excitement run through me. This man intrigued me. I wanted to know more. I nodded.

"Let's."

Tucking the plan under her arm, Toni nodded.

"Lead on, Mr Sparrow," I said.