Chapter 13 - Setting the Trap

Jack squinted as the low morning sun sparkled off the water. He was in one of the Pearl's boats, scouting out the shoals, rocks and reefs in Hollowell's meeting place. No sense risking the Pearl herself until he had to - the last thing they needed was to have Vigilance arrive to find them stuck fast in the shallows. A good naval man, like Norrington, would have done this job with charts, carefully marked up with depth soundings and notes on the currents. Jack reckoned to hold it all in his head. It wasn't that he couldn't read a naval chart - he'd paid a cashiered Lieutenant to teach him years ago. But figuring out a chart was slow work, more suited to planning an ambush on a navy-defended town say, than for trying to outmanoeuvre a ship that had him massively outgunned on its own territory.

Hollowell liked to meet his buccaneers in a nasty little archipelago of coral islets a few leagues off the main shipping route through his area. It had been clearly marked on all the charts for years as a place to be avoided - a seamount came close to the surface, providing a base for a treacherous series of reefs, just lying in wait to tear the bottom out of any ship whose captain was fool enough to venture in. It was a tribute to the skill of Norrington and his lost crew that they had managed to navigate Dauntless in there without mishap. Of course, it was rather less impressive that they hadn't wondered why Vigilance was lurking in such a hellish spot before they sailed cheerily up and got a belly-full of cannon-shot.

He stared down into the depths, trying to ignore the tricky reflections. Could this be it? He had spent three days searching the area so far, with no luck in finding a channel that could be used to bring a ship the size of Vigilance into the spot that Norrington had described - sheltered in the curve of one of the larger islets.

Only one way to find out for sure. He sat up and stretched, joints cracking after so long hunched over the prow of the little boat. He turned to face Gibbs and Cotton. "I'm going down to take a look".

Gibbs gaped back at him, appalled. "Down there? It's fearful bad..." Jack glared at him and he tailed off. The only things that Gibbs didn't consider 'fearful bad luck', in Jack's experience, were drink, easy money and women of easy virtue. Of course even the women were only good fortune when ashore, though drink and cash seemed to be held lucky pretty much anywhere.

"Shut up for once and hold this position. I'll be but a moment." Jack ordered as he stripped off his coat and boots. Most seamen couldn't swim and were desperately afraid of drowning if they got more than a foot wet, so he took pride in his unusual skill in the water. He'd had fun learning too, from a sweet young lass who dived for pearls down Honduras-way. He slipped easily over the side, took a deep breath and plunged below the surface of the warm, clear water. He swam strongly to the spot he'd noticed from the surface - a place where a great sea fan protruded into the main channel. A quick look confirmed that numerous branches on the channel side had been broken off. He returned to the surface for another breath.

His next couple of dives established that a large ship regularly used the passage, scraping her sides at odd points without ever hitting an obstacle large enough to place her hull in danger. Jack surfaced again and stretched out a hand so Gibbs could haul him back into the boat. "This is it - Hollowell's channel" he said.

Half an hour later the sun had dried him off, leaving a silky layer of salt on his skin. Jack stood beside Anamaria as she steered the Pearl through the channel. They crept through as slowly as they could, lest a misjudgement land them on the reefs. Everyone on board was up on deck, either scanning the channel ahead for rocks or looking for landmarks on the surrounding islets to steer by. With a light breeze and only the tiniest scrap of sail it seemed to take them hours to reach the little bay that Hollowell favoured for his rendez-vous. The channel seemed to be horribly straight once you knew where to find it thought Jack. Damned wide too, and there was no chance of blockading it - he needed every scrap of powder he could get for the fight ahead, so none could be spared for an attempt at blasting a part of the reef.

With a hard battle ahead of them the crew were as tense and jittery as a sack full of cats. Jack kept them busy the rest of the afternoon, lots of little jobs, each done by a couple of people. No chance to sit and brood alone, or to gather and gossip. He trusted this crew more than any he'd led before, but even so he would never forget the lesson he'd had from Barbossa. Pirates nowadays didn't go in for big battles - a quick raid and an even quicker escape was their choice every time. Things had come a long way since the glory days of the privateers who had His Majesty's license to prey on foreign ships. The good thing was that most of the lads had never seen a ship the size of Vigilance close to, let alone fought one. Only Gibbs had Navy service behind him, and for all his drinking and gabbling about luck he was as brave a man who had ever breathed.

He had finished an inspection of the progress being made by the crew and stopped for a while to lean against the rail. He couldn't help staring at the horizon, checking for any sign of Vigilance. Nothing was in sight, yet.

A shadow fell across the rail. He glanced up to see Anamaria at his shoulder.

"How long?" she asked, pitching her voice soft so that none of the crew would hear.

"Not tonight, for certain - he'd never risk the reef in the dark. He'll be here sometime tomorrow I reckon" he replied.

Anamaria nodded. "Time enough for us to get clear then?"

In all the years he'd known her Jack had never seen Anamaria shrink from a fight. It had cost her dear to ask that.

"No point love" he said gently. He'd been a proper captain all day (bloody Norrington would have been surprised). No nonsense, no favours for anybody. But somehow he couldn't resist reaching out and taking her hand in his. Not like anyone would see anyway, not if they were working like they should be.

"Why not leave? It's Norrington's fight, not ours. Why are you so keen to die for that fool?"

"Our fight too darlin'. Hollowell was spreading his little tale of us sinking the Dauntless afore he ever knew the Dear Commodore had made it out alive. He's been after us for a while now savvy?"

She sighed and nodded again. "So what do we do now we're here?"

Defeat seemed to be stamped on her very bones as she stood in front of him, face grave and shoulders slumped. If he couldn't convince her, what hope with the rest of the crew?

He put his hands together and flashed her his very best gold-toothed grin.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow love. Barbossa and his whole pack of undead scallywags couldn't beat me. You think I'm afraid of the bloody Navy?"

"Us," said Anamaria firmly.

"What, love?"

"Couldn't beat us, Jack" she said, showing a bit of her normal spirit. If only he could fan that flame, then maybe...

"True darling," time for some proper swaggering now, "you were all a great help to me."

She laughed, then leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, something she rarely did in front of the crew.

"You're daft, but I believe you."

"Good. Now that's settled, lets broach a barrel of rum for the lads and let them relax a bit." He'd kept the crew on short rations of rum these last couple of days, even Gibbs. Let loose at a keg now, they'd be so drunk as to forget their troubles for a few hours. Jack himself had other plans - life had been busy lately, with too little time spent tucked away in his cabin with Anamaria. Women always fell for talk about it maybe being the last chance and the terrible risks that tomorrow would bring.