Disclaimer: see prologue.
Author's note: Many thanks for the nice comments. Hopefully this chapter will begin to answer a few questions. 'Tante' and anything else italicised in Ana's speech is French - 'Tante' meaning aunt. I try to use just snippets for flavour rather than phrases that mean enough to need translating. This Anamaria is the same one who features in my young!Jack fics, and is Haitian living on Tortuga, so French-Creole speaking (though I don't speak any Creole, and so get by with slangy French).
Chapters will be slow-coming. I'm horribly busy these days. Just so you know.
----
Chapter 1
"I'm looking for passage to Jamaica," Anamaria said, arms folded, bag over her shoulder.
"Not going to Jamaica," the captain said.
"I'll make it worth your while."
"Look, love," said the captain, condescendingly, "I ain't going after mad Sparrow, all right? He can save himself. If he don't save himself, then he's had his chances, one too many if'n you ask me."
"I wasn't."
"Find another ship," the captain concluded. "If you can."
He smiled, and turned away.
Anamaria scowled at his back.
It was late afternoon, and she had been trying to find a vessel that would take her to Kingston for much of the day. So far, she had been met with either outright refusal or a demand for more money than she could afford.
She stood on the quayside and considered her options.
Giving up did not seem to be one of them. Anamaria, once she had started on a project, kept going.
Half an hour later she was sweeping aside empty mugs and climbing on top of a table in 'The Faithful Bride'. There was a chorus of whistles and jeers.
"Shut up!" Anamaria called, using the voice that used to relay orders from quarterdeck to topmast. The tavern, shocked by her tones, quietened. "Bon," said Anamaria. "I need passage to Jamaica."
"Why?" came a voice from the darkness of the tavern.
"Because I'm not seein' an old friend hang," Anamaria said.
"Sparrow?" There was general laughter. "He your boy's dad, then, Mistress Ana?"
The dagger left her belt and thudded into the wall by the speaker's head.
"Jack Sparrow is a friend, and a good man," she said. "Is there no person here who sailed with him?"
"Rules is rules," another man pointed out. "Them as gets left behind, stays behind."
"They are more guidelines than rules," Anamaria retorted from her table-top. "Did nobody sail with him?"
She stared into the darkness of the tavern.
Finally there was movement, and a figure shuffled towards her table, tankard in hand. He raised it, and a pair of blurred, unfocused eyes.
"I did. After you left 'im. John Briggs."
"Got a ship?" she asked.
"Fishin' boat," he admitted, taking a swig from his tankard.
Anamaria jumped down from her tabletop, retrieved her dagger, took the mug from Briggs' hand, and led him out of the tavern to more jeers. She ignored them.
In the moonlight Briggs turned out to be a reasonable figure of a man, not too old, and though he was drunk he seemed moderately in control of his faculties. She sized him up.
"Can we leave on the dawn tide?" Anamaria questioned.
Briggs made a clear effort to focus on her face. "Why?"
She let out an exasperated sigh.
"You sailed with Jack."
"For a bit. Mad, he was, bloody mad. Good cap'n though."
"Exactement," said Anamaria. "Do you want to see him on the end of a rope?"
"Not 'specially," Briggs agreed, "but neither do I want to see me on t'end of a rope. If'n it's him or me, I'd rather it were him." He shrugged. "I'll take you, though why I'm doin' so I'm not right sure. Must be mad. My Emmy, she's moored over there, Mistress, if you'll follow me."
"Just Anamaria," said Anamaria, shaking hands with him.
They set sail whilst it was still dark, Briggs's two crewmembers on board. Briggs had a small one-masted fishing boat in the native style, but it was a sturdy little vessel and Anamaria had no doubt it was more than capable of getting them to Port Royal and back.
Once at sea, the sails set, Briggs settled down with a hand on the rudder. Anamaria sat nearby, sharpening her dagger.
"When were you with Jack?" she asked, after a while.
"Coupl'a years back," said Briggs. "I'd got fed up with the ship I were on, and Cap'n Sparrow was lookin' for more crew. Folk said as how he was a fair cap'n, and worth sailin' under. I weren't sure, really; lookin' at him, you'd not say he was a sailor."
Anamaria raised an eyebrow.
"Anyways, off we went, caught a few ships - t'Pearl moved, I hadn't realised how quick she was afore I sailed aboard 'er - we were all doin' well, makin' money. S'pose then I realised he was more than he looked."
His eyes flicked up to the tell-tales floating from the masthead, and he adjusted the boat's course.
"I sailed under the cap'n until I had enough to buy my Emmy," he said, patting the rudder affectionately. "And you? You know folk talk, down in Tortuga?"
"They will always talk," said Anamaria. "They think Zac is Jack's child."
"He's not?"
"No, he's not," she returned.
"So why this?" asked Briggs.
Anamaria felt the edge of her dagger and sheathed it.
"Because he was a good friend to me when I needed one," she said. "And later, a good captain, though he's a scoundrel through and through. He was saved once from hanging, you know that?"
"I didn't," said Briggs.
"He was lucky," she went on. "And after that I knew how he didn't want to die like that. He does not want to die like that. This is Jack Sparrow, savez?"
"Aye." Briggs nodded. "I see what you mean."
She offered him a brief smile, and turned to contemplate the ocean.
They put in, quietly and neatly, to Port Royal a few days later. The harbour was filled, as usual, with a mixture of naval and merchant ships as well as some that looked less reputable. Briggs and Anamaria - she with her hair tied up and hidden under her hat, and her breasts bound - went ashore in the Emmy's little boat.
The town was as busy as ever, and the two found no difficulty in weaving through the crowds unnoticed. Anamaria kept her ears open for rumours of Sparrow, but they heard nothing until they approached the Navy fort.
"Tomorrow, they're saying," a woman said to her companion. "Should be worth goin' to."
"Surely he'll hang?" her friend asked.
"Bound to. They say Admiral Norrington and the pirate have a history."
"You don't say!"
The women bustled away, chattering excitedly. Briggs and Anamaria exchanged glances.
"C'est vrai," Anamaria said. "Norrington was the one who nearly hung him last time."
"Well," said Briggs, morosely, "I reckon we'd to get drunk now. Can't do nowt for the cap'n till tomorrow."
Anamaria sent a regretful look towards the fort, but she was bound to concur with her companion. Together they turned their backs on the thick stone walls that housed their former captain and friend, and went in search of refreshment.
Author's note: Many thanks for the nice comments. Hopefully this chapter will begin to answer a few questions. 'Tante' and anything else italicised in Ana's speech is French - 'Tante' meaning aunt. I try to use just snippets for flavour rather than phrases that mean enough to need translating. This Anamaria is the same one who features in my young!Jack fics, and is Haitian living on Tortuga, so French-Creole speaking (though I don't speak any Creole, and so get by with slangy French).
Chapters will be slow-coming. I'm horribly busy these days. Just so you know.
----
Chapter 1
"I'm looking for passage to Jamaica," Anamaria said, arms folded, bag over her shoulder.
"Not going to Jamaica," the captain said.
"I'll make it worth your while."
"Look, love," said the captain, condescendingly, "I ain't going after mad Sparrow, all right? He can save himself. If he don't save himself, then he's had his chances, one too many if'n you ask me."
"I wasn't."
"Find another ship," the captain concluded. "If you can."
He smiled, and turned away.
Anamaria scowled at his back.
It was late afternoon, and she had been trying to find a vessel that would take her to Kingston for much of the day. So far, she had been met with either outright refusal or a demand for more money than she could afford.
She stood on the quayside and considered her options.
Giving up did not seem to be one of them. Anamaria, once she had started on a project, kept going.
Half an hour later she was sweeping aside empty mugs and climbing on top of a table in 'The Faithful Bride'. There was a chorus of whistles and jeers.
"Shut up!" Anamaria called, using the voice that used to relay orders from quarterdeck to topmast. The tavern, shocked by her tones, quietened. "Bon," said Anamaria. "I need passage to Jamaica."
"Why?" came a voice from the darkness of the tavern.
"Because I'm not seein' an old friend hang," Anamaria said.
"Sparrow?" There was general laughter. "He your boy's dad, then, Mistress Ana?"
The dagger left her belt and thudded into the wall by the speaker's head.
"Jack Sparrow is a friend, and a good man," she said. "Is there no person here who sailed with him?"
"Rules is rules," another man pointed out. "Them as gets left behind, stays behind."
"They are more guidelines than rules," Anamaria retorted from her table-top. "Did nobody sail with him?"
She stared into the darkness of the tavern.
Finally there was movement, and a figure shuffled towards her table, tankard in hand. He raised it, and a pair of blurred, unfocused eyes.
"I did. After you left 'im. John Briggs."
"Got a ship?" she asked.
"Fishin' boat," he admitted, taking a swig from his tankard.
Anamaria jumped down from her tabletop, retrieved her dagger, took the mug from Briggs' hand, and led him out of the tavern to more jeers. She ignored them.
In the moonlight Briggs turned out to be a reasonable figure of a man, not too old, and though he was drunk he seemed moderately in control of his faculties. She sized him up.
"Can we leave on the dawn tide?" Anamaria questioned.
Briggs made a clear effort to focus on her face. "Why?"
She let out an exasperated sigh.
"You sailed with Jack."
"For a bit. Mad, he was, bloody mad. Good cap'n though."
"Exactement," said Anamaria. "Do you want to see him on the end of a rope?"
"Not 'specially," Briggs agreed, "but neither do I want to see me on t'end of a rope. If'n it's him or me, I'd rather it were him." He shrugged. "I'll take you, though why I'm doin' so I'm not right sure. Must be mad. My Emmy, she's moored over there, Mistress, if you'll follow me."
"Just Anamaria," said Anamaria, shaking hands with him.
They set sail whilst it was still dark, Briggs's two crewmembers on board. Briggs had a small one-masted fishing boat in the native style, but it was a sturdy little vessel and Anamaria had no doubt it was more than capable of getting them to Port Royal and back.
Once at sea, the sails set, Briggs settled down with a hand on the rudder. Anamaria sat nearby, sharpening her dagger.
"When were you with Jack?" she asked, after a while.
"Coupl'a years back," said Briggs. "I'd got fed up with the ship I were on, and Cap'n Sparrow was lookin' for more crew. Folk said as how he was a fair cap'n, and worth sailin' under. I weren't sure, really; lookin' at him, you'd not say he was a sailor."
Anamaria raised an eyebrow.
"Anyways, off we went, caught a few ships - t'Pearl moved, I hadn't realised how quick she was afore I sailed aboard 'er - we were all doin' well, makin' money. S'pose then I realised he was more than he looked."
His eyes flicked up to the tell-tales floating from the masthead, and he adjusted the boat's course.
"I sailed under the cap'n until I had enough to buy my Emmy," he said, patting the rudder affectionately. "And you? You know folk talk, down in Tortuga?"
"They will always talk," said Anamaria. "They think Zac is Jack's child."
"He's not?"
"No, he's not," she returned.
"So why this?" asked Briggs.
Anamaria felt the edge of her dagger and sheathed it.
"Because he was a good friend to me when I needed one," she said. "And later, a good captain, though he's a scoundrel through and through. He was saved once from hanging, you know that?"
"I didn't," said Briggs.
"He was lucky," she went on. "And after that I knew how he didn't want to die like that. He does not want to die like that. This is Jack Sparrow, savez?"
"Aye." Briggs nodded. "I see what you mean."
She offered him a brief smile, and turned to contemplate the ocean.
They put in, quietly and neatly, to Port Royal a few days later. The harbour was filled, as usual, with a mixture of naval and merchant ships as well as some that looked less reputable. Briggs and Anamaria - she with her hair tied up and hidden under her hat, and her breasts bound - went ashore in the Emmy's little boat.
The town was as busy as ever, and the two found no difficulty in weaving through the crowds unnoticed. Anamaria kept her ears open for rumours of Sparrow, but they heard nothing until they approached the Navy fort.
"Tomorrow, they're saying," a woman said to her companion. "Should be worth goin' to."
"Surely he'll hang?" her friend asked.
"Bound to. They say Admiral Norrington and the pirate have a history."
"You don't say!"
The women bustled away, chattering excitedly. Briggs and Anamaria exchanged glances.
"C'est vrai," Anamaria said. "Norrington was the one who nearly hung him last time."
"Well," said Briggs, morosely, "I reckon we'd to get drunk now. Can't do nowt for the cap'n till tomorrow."
Anamaria sent a regretful look towards the fort, but she was bound to concur with her companion. Together they turned their backs on the thick stone walls that housed their former captain and friend, and went in search of refreshment.