Title: Of the Sea
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Title: 3. Tortuga?
Summary: The Black Pearl raids a merchant ship, and finds something they weren't expecting.
Timeline: Wednesday, May 4, 1675
Author: Cicatrix (Marin K.)

Jack rose before the sun did. For having slept very little, he felt well-rested. He rubbed his eyes blearily, pushing the coverlet aside. Decisively, he got to his feet, reassured by the gentle creak of the ship's floorboards beneath his feet. He smiled to himself, absorbed the familiar surroundings of his cabin, standing a moment in reverence for the Pearl. It was good to have her back, he thought, lurching contentedly from the room.

The quarter deck was silent, save for the pair on morning watch who stood near the rail, talking in quiet voices. They greeted him when they saw him, and he smiled vaguely. Climbing the stairs to the bridge, he noticed Anamaria at the helm.

"Captain Sparrow," she said, by way of acknowledgement.

"You been here all night, haven't you?"

"Aye, cap'n."

"You go down, get some food and rest, I'll take over." She nodded, and turning, went down to the mess. Truthfully, Jack had volunteered for more selfish reasons than those he claimed. He'd had the Pearl back for a year now, but he never tired of having her wheel under his hand, of the gentle sway he felt as she turned. He stared at the horizon, which was now a crisp rose at its eastern edge, and smiled. He was only vaguely aware of Gibbs trampling up the stairs.

"Cap'n?"

"Aye?"

"Isn't Tortuga the other way?"

"Aye."

Gibbs was silent. Jack, rightly, took the man's silence for confusion.

"Mr. Gibbs, please tell me what is on the horizon directly in front of us."

Gibbs squinted. "A black dot. But sir, there's no land for miles in that direction."

"And if there's no land for miles in that direction, then it isn't land, is it?" The other man nodded slowly. "Now then, Mr. Gibbs, when you see a black dot on the horizon, and you know it isn't land, what might you infer of its nature?"

"...That it's a ship."

"Good! Then you understand that we are headed towards a ship." Jack pointed at it. "That ship."

"Oh," Gibbs said brightly, still confused. "What do you want with a--Oh!" Jack smiled innocently as the other realized his intentions. "Plunder!"

"Aye, plunder. Now go down to the mess, wake Matthew up, and have him come see me."

"But sir, it's bad luck to wake a man when he's sleeping!"

"...Gibbs."

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Gibbs said you wanted me, Captain." Matthew looked tired. His clothes were crumpled from sleeping in them, and the grey of his eyes was clouded and foggy. He blinked at Jack.

"Aye. You raided a ship before?" Matt seemed to wake up at those words, and looked at the other man as if he had just been insulted. Seeing his expression, Jack smiled. "Well!" he said joyously, "That answers that question!" Matthew glared, and Jack's smile flickered nervously. He looked away from the younger man, gazing distractedly at a pink-hued cloud. "Say! That one looks rather like a sheep, don't you think?" The cloud he pointed at looked nothing like a sheep, but was instead was rather thin and wispy, like stretched cotton.

"...Jack," Matthew said. Hearing his name, Jack looked around himself, not trying to find the source, but rather to see if anyone else had heard it.

"Ah. No one else here. Jack it is, then." Matthew looked at him expectantly, and when Jack said nothing more, he sighed heavily. "Oh--er, yes?"

"You said something about raiding a ship...?" the other pressed.

"Oh, that. Right," he said, as if this was not even half as interesting as the cloud that didn't look like a sheep. He fished around in the pocket of his vest, retrieving from it a small telescope. He pressed the object into Matthew's hand. "See that black spot on the horizon? I think it's a ship. Take a closer look at it with that, and tell me if you can tell what kind it is."

Matthew examined it for a long moment. "It's hard to tell from this distance," he said, "but it looks like it may be a small merchant vessel. When we get closer, I'll be able to tell you more about how well armed she is. She's headed in our direction, and if she doesn't change course, we'll meet her in two hours, at most."

Captain Jack Sparrow grinned. "Go tell Gibbs to rouse the crew... and raise the Union Jack while you're at it."

An hour later, young sailor aboard a small merchant ship, the Lady Anne, approached his captain, who was sitting in his cabin with his morning brandy. "Sir! There's a ship coming towards us."

"... What kind of a ship?"

"A big black one, sir. British flag."

The captain swallowed hard. He'd only heard of one "big black ship" in these waters: the Black Pearl. She was the fastest ship in the Caribbean. Some said her captain was a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out, an immortal who mixed the blood of his victims with his rum, who could not be killed by pistol, noose, or sword. The Union Jack it wore did not comfort him; it could be too easily replaced with the Jolly Roger.

"Have someone stand by to strike the colours," he said, after only a second's hesitation.

"What?"

"Are you questioning my orders, sailor?"

"No, sir. I'll do it right away, sir."

Forty-five anxious minutes later, the two ships met. The Union Jack the Black Pearl wore was taken down, and in its place the Jolly Roger was hoisted, and the flags of the Lady Anne were struck. Jack stood on the quarterdeck, occasionally casting a watchful eye toward his own ship. The Lady Anne's crew stood not far from him, around the main mast, under the guard of Gibbs and Cotton.

"What've we got so far, Quartetto?" Jack asked, approaching the man who appeared from below deck.

"N'thin' much, Cap'n. D'liv'ed an'thin' valable.. Food, rum, sails, an' an anchor, the like. N'thin' more."

Jack sighed. It would be his luck that the small, unarmed merchant vessel had already delivered its cargo, and therefore had little of value remaining. "I see," he said. "Take it all, and their weapons too. Search their pockets and see if they have any coins." Quartetto returned below decks, presumably to relay the orders.

Moments passed, and Jack was surprised to see Matt climbing the stairs, with a rather large, hysterical entity in tow behind him. The young man wore a look of extreme distaste, and gave the woman's arm a sharp jerk. She collapsed to her knees, and started screaming.

"Please don't kill me!" she cried pathetically, spewing tears.

Matthew spun on her. "Bleeding hell, woman! I don't want to drag a dead weight up these 'ere stairs," he said, and his hand fell to the cutlass at his side, "but it's better than dragging a kicking, screaming weight--if y'catch my meaning." His words were not lost on the woman, who stood quickly; she didn't know the cutlass was probably too dull to cut butter. She sniffed rather pathetically. Matt pointed to where the sailors stood, "Thank y'kindly, missy. Now if you'll be a good girl, and go stand over there with them sailors." He gave a slight bow as she walked passed him. Jack smiled his approval.

"Cap'n Sparrow!" a voice distracted him. It was Quartetto again. "Sir, we found somethin' in the crate what said it 'ad rum! Sol'd gold!" At those last words, everyone turned and stared at the man who emitted them, all except one. The previously frenetic woman lunged from her place near Mr. Gibbs. She seized the sword from Matt's sheath, and pressed it against his throat. Everyone turned again, their eyes flickering between Quartetto and Matthew, as if unsure which was more important.

"Excuse me, Miss--" Jack hesitated, waiting for a name.

"Annabel Reed," she stated in a way entirely too prim and proper for a woman holding a blade to another's neck.

"--Miss Reed," he continued seemlessly, "but if you haven't noticed, this man just mentioned gold, which is far more important than your wounded pride..."

"Pirate!" she said, viciously.

"Yes, dear, thank you for noticing."

"Release us, or I'll cut his throat!"

Matthew chose this moment to interrupt, "Miss Reed, if you don't mind me saying so, the blade you're threatening me with, though very imposing, is quite useless. You're more likely to hurt yourself than me with it, the edge is almost entirely dull. You'd do more damage if you tried to hit me with it."

Miss Annabel Reed tried to hit Matthew with the sword, but when she pulled it back, he reached out and grabbed the blade of the cutlass, pulling it out of her grasp. It clattered to the ground as she dropped it. Bending, the young man retrieved it. He replaced it in his belt, then looked curiously at his hand; blood seeped from a narrow red slice in his palm. "Not as dull as I'd thought," he murmured, reached for the girl's wrist with his other hand, wiping the blood off the injured one onto his breeches. "Now, no more of that, missy," he said, and looked curiously at Jack and Quartetto.

The crisis over, Jack looked around curiously. "Wait," he said, "what were we talking about?"

"Gold?" prompted Matthew.

"Oh, right!" Jack paused, "How much gold?"

"S'ngle brick, Cap'n," Quartetto informed him.

A slow, gold-toothed smile spread across Jack's face.

Author's note: I bet they're happy. Not every day you find a solid gold bar in a case of rum. I know that may sound like a let down, because it only weights five pounds, but it's worth 1,500 British pounds, or $240,000 in the modern United States. Not a bad haul, really. But why was a smallish merchant ship that wasn't armed carrying a gold brick in a box labeled "rum"? You'll see! In the meantime, think about how many more gold teeth Jack could get put in!

By the way, I went back and fixed Matt's age. If you've been reading, he's twenty-five-ish now. I originally wrote him as twenty-five, then changed him to twenty, then sixteen, and now he's back to twenty-five. I promise he won't suddenly get older or younger anymore. It may start taking longer for me to update, too. I've been on break, but I have to go back to school tomorrow. In fact, I still have two 1,500 word essays for English class to write tonight, one about Perfume and Sleep Unbound, the other about Emma. Eek!