Disclaimer: see chapter 1
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Toni and I went back to the house we had rented in silence, each occupied with our own thoughts. I was mulling over the afternoon's events and the unexpected meeting with Jack Sparrow. I suspect Toni was too.
Neither of us said anything of note until after we had both showered and were sitting in the airy lounge, waiting for Jerry and Simon to return. I was making notes of the day; Toni was filing her nails. After a few moments of silence, she looked up.
"Becks?"
"What?"
"Do you think he's cute?"
I put down my pen. "Who?"
"Him." Toni blushed, furiously. "Jack Sparrow."
I considered the matter. "I suppose you could say he's good-looking. Cute – maybe not. But he must be in his forties."
"I'm 38," pointed out Toni, reasonably. "Forties is good." She filed another nail. "But I guess he's crazy, huh? Wrong kind of guy to have the hots for."
"It's the danger aspect," I said. "It's easy to be attracted to a dangerous man. Even if he does have those nasty dreadlock things. What's wrong with short hair?"
"Is he dangerous?" Toni wanted to know.
"I think he could be," I said. "I still don't think he's mad. Not that he's entirely sane, either, but who is?"
"Who is what?" Jerry and Simon came back, lugging carrier bags of groceries and the files they had been working on during the day. Simon began to empty the bags, producing fresh fruit and vegetables and some fish and starting to prepare them in the open-plan kitchen at the end of the room.
Toni and I told the story, starting from the beginning, giving a description of Jack Sparrow and his boat and telling his tale. At the end Jerry and Simon exchanged glances. Jerry sat down.
"He doesn't sound cute, Toni," he said gently. "He sounds …"
"Stark raving mad," offered Simon, throwing vegetables into a pan and beginning to stir them vigorously. "Curses? Three centuries? It's not possible." He waved his wooden spoon in the air. "He's a loony. We're better off staying away from him."
"And we have a yacht," Jerry added. "We know how to get back to that island."
Toni looked down at her hands, and nodded. "Yeah."
I looked from one to the other. Simon was adding fish to the vegetables now, and the room was filled with the aroma of cooking. My stomach rumbled.
"He intrigues me, that's all," I said, guessing that neither of the men would consider the possibility of taking Jack Sparrow along with us – not that evening, at any rate.
"Everyone intrigues you," Jerry said, affectionately.
"So how was your day?" I asked, changing the subject.
They were off, on a long-winded tale of bureaucracy and museums and libraries and getting lost in Kingston that went on even as Simon served up a delicious fish curry. I did not mention Jack Sparrow again that night, and nor did Toni. But once I was alone in my room I finished my notes on the man, including a long list of questions I was dying to ask him.
I dreamed again during the night. Strange dreams always seem to plague me on expeditions, when my mind is full of unanswered queries, mysteries that need solving. I dreamed of Jack Sparrow, but not the Sparrow we had met that day. The man in my dream had eyes lined in black, and he stood at the wheel of a great black pirate ship whilst the cannon fired and blood ran across the deck.
In the morning, over breakfast, Jerry had a call from the captain of the expedition yacht that rather turned things upside down. He put the phone down looking miserable.
"The engine's failed."
"What?"
Jerry sat down at the dining table and picked at his croissant. "That was Mick. He said that the yacht's engine won't start. And there doesn't seem to be any chance of it getting fixed before next week."
"Damn!" Simon poured coffee. "Now what do we do?"
Toni caught my eye. I shrugged, and watched the swirl of bubbles on the surface of my coffee dissipate.
"Becks?" asked Jerry.
He knew me too well.
"There is … there's Jack Sparrow," I said. "At least come and meet him. He has a boat. He said he'd take us."
"I bet he costs a bloody fortune," said Simon.
"He is a pirate," I returned.
After breakfast we gathered our things together, and set off down to the marina. Simon and Jerry were still grumbling, but I could sense that they were still not sold on the concept of Jack Sparrow. I wasn't sure that they would be sold on the concept of Jack Sparrow once they had met him, but it was worth trying.
We arrived alongside the Anamaria a short while later. She looked neat and peaceful in the morning light, all her brasswork gleaming, and the men eyed her and seemed fairly impressed.
"Does it have an engine?" Simon asked. "Not that the sails aren't pretty, but I can't imagine they'd go very fast."
"She has an engine, but it's for calms only." Jack Sparrow emerged from the cabin, back in ordinary clothes, and folded his arms. "Ever seen a tall ship under full sail, mate? Her canvas filled with the wind, and her lines taut? The waves foam under her prow and she races along." He grinned, cheerfully, and stepped nimbly down the gangplank. "One of you'll be Jerry."
"That's me," said Jerry.
"Jack Sparrow," our pirate said, not offering to shake hands. "So, Miss Morrison, you've persuaded your colleagues to take me up on my offer?"
"Our yacht is broken," Jerry said, a little flatly.
"Problem with engines," Jack Sparrow returned. "No matter. I'll take you to the island."
"What do you want from us?" asked Simon. His stance was defensive, somehow: something about Sparrow clearly irritated him. I think Sparrow saw it too, because he grinned that insouciant, insolent grin again.
"Well, if you can see your way to payin'," he said, "it's not like I'd be complaining. But mostly," the grin disappeared, replaced with utter and sincere seriousness, "I want to make sure you don't touch what you shouldn't."
"What shouldn't we touch?" Simon again.
Sparrow came very close to Simon, certainly coming into my colleague's personal space. Simon leaned back; Sparrow leaned forward.
"Aztec gold. 881 pieces of it. Not to be touched."
He raised his eyebrows at Simon, who stepped backwards, clearly irritated.
"It's treasure trove," he snapped. "It'll belong to whatever state owns that land, and we'll get some for our research. Who are you to decide what gets touched and what doesn't?"
The grin went abruptly from Jack Sparrow's face, and instead of looking innocuous and a bit daft he suddenly looked extremely dangerous. It was as if a different person looked out from behind those dark eyes.
"Me?" he said, softly. "Once upon a time, that question would have had you at the point of my sword. My name was feared across the Caribbean. Grown men quaked when they saw my ship."
"You're utterly mad," said Simon, disdainfully. He turned away.
Jerry folded his arms. "We can pay you, if you can get us and our equipment there. How much would you charge?"
"How much would you pay?"
Jerry looked at us. I shrugged.
"Hundred dollars a day," Jerry said.
"Two." Jack Sparrow settled himself back against a bollard.
"One twenty," offered Jerry.
"One eighty." Sparrow was calm and nonchalant, evidently a seasoned bargainer.
Toni glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.
"One fifty," Jerry tried.
"One …" Sparrow stopped, and catching Jerry's expression laughed. "Nah, s'alright, mate, I'll take one fifty. It's a bargain. We'll get there faster with Ana than you would have done with your yacht."
Jerry smiled, relieved, and the two men shook hands. They began to talk logistics – how soon our stuff could be got aboard, when we could leave, whether any crew were needed.
At the end of the pier, Simon was standing staring out to sea. He looked round as I came up, and then turned his eyes back to the horizon.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"What's the matter?!" he exclaimed. "Bloody hell, Becks, how could you possibly think that man is sane? He's rude, he's unpleasant, and he's totally bonkers!"
"I really don't think he is," I said, trying to calm Simon down. "Look, you're good with rocks, Simon, but people? Not your strong point. He's just playing to what annoys you."
Simon grunted.
"Anyway, Jerry agreed a price," I told him. "If we get the go-ahead, then we're sailing with Jack Sparrow."
"Great." Simon looked round at me. "I'll tell you one thing. Even if Toni thinks he's cute – it's me and Jerry who'll have to watch out. That man doesn't bat for the same team as me."
I shook my head. "I hate that expression. But again, I think you're wrong. You didn't see him leering yesterday."
"Oh, come on," Simon said. "What about those gestures?" He did a short and bad impression of Jack Sparrow's fluttering hands. "He's crazy, and he doesn't go for girls."
I took his arm. "Come on. We have lots to do."
Jerry was finishing his talk with Sparrow as I towed Simon back to the Anamaria. Sparrow looked keenly at me, and the corners of his mouth twitched.
"So, we'll load this afternoon?" Jerry said.
"Four on the dot," Sparrow agreed. "See you then."
Jerry nodded, and went off after Toni and Simon. Jack Sparrow rested a hand on the slender rope railing of his boat's gangplank.
"Your friend Simon doesn't like me," he said.
"Er … no," I admitted.
"Well, he ain't the first," Sparrow returned, cheerfully enough. "Just tell him, love, that I don't care what he thinks of me – but aboard my boat, he'd better do what I ask him to do. I won't suffer fools lightly. Savvy?"
"I'll tell him."
"Good lass."
I turned to go, but hesitated. "Mr Sparrow?"
"Aye?"
"What went wrong with the engine of our yacht?"
He raised his eyebrows, and cocked his head at me. "Doesn't concern me, if it doesn't have sails," he said. "Haven't a clue what you're talking about."
I considered him for a few seconds, before shaking my head and hurrying off after the others.