AN (9/9)- I'm sick and tired of school. Wears me out. Plus, it makes me feel rather stupid. On the positive side, I've been learning more about writing in English class. Should help me to progress as a writer. Please review! It discourages Erica when she gets less than seven reviews...
Chapter 10: Mold
Jack sighed slightly, pacing in front of the men lined up next to one of the preliterate taverns in Tortuga. They all looked like they'd be fine additions to his crew, yet he wasn't sure which ones he didn't want to accept. Barbossa really had outdone himself by finding so many men that wanted to be pirates and had an IQ higher than the average incandescent lamp. He'd found nearly thirty, but Jack really didn't need that many to replace those of his crew he'd lost through his stupid actions.
Jack suddenly stopped in front of a fairly tall man with a beard. "Do ye 'ave the courage and fortitude to stay certain in the face of danger and almost certain death?" He seemed to be staring the man down, eager to find someone too weak to join his crew.
The man nodded. "Aye aye, Cap'n!" he responded like a troop being drilled. He didn't even flinch as Jack leaned in closer to examine him. His eyes were full of hope and slight respect.
Jack smiled. "Very well, then, mate, welcome aboard the Black Pearl." He stuck his hand out, clearly wanting the man to introduce himself as he glanced him over again.
"The name's Twigg," he answered, glancing at Jack's hand curiously. A rather crazy thought went across his mind as they shook hands. Jack's eccentric personality was bound to rub off the wrong way on some people.
Jack nodded and smiled. "Welcome aboard, Twigg. We'll be settin' sail in a week, unless somethin' comes up. Be prepared." He bowed slightly and backed off, feeling rather redundant and glancing at the rest of the people lined up as Twigg walked away to talk to Barbossa.
In the end, Jack sent ten people back. They didn't seem to have what it takes to be a pirate. Dog Ear, Clubba, Monk, Scratch, Scarus, Danny, and Wick were among the men he'd deemed worthy enough to join his precious ship's crew. There were several others, but Jack really couldn't remember their names as he sat in a tavern, sipping on some rum. Across from him was Bootstrap, and to Bootstrap's side was Matthew. They'd been here for about an hour now, sharing neutral stories about looting ships. Women were never discussed amongst the trio, for Matthew was happily married, Bootstrap realized Jack didn't want his advice ever again, and Jack still thought that Bootstrap had betrayed him.
Leaning into the table, Matthew glanced at both Jack and Bootstrap. "Listen 'ere," he said softly, beckoning them forward as well. There seemed to be a glint of excitement in his brown eyes as he waited for Bootstrap and Jack to comply.
Jack looked at Bootstrap as though asking him where he'd found the crazy person. Bootstrap shrugged, leaning in to listen to Matthew's whatever it was he was going to say. Jack quickly did the same, nearly hitting his head on a small candle in the center of the table. They both glanced at Matthew with similar looks of confusion, though Jack's was harder to read.
Matthew grinned to himself, feeling quite proud of his ability to make these experienced pirates listen to him. "Well, I was walkin' along the beach las' night when I ran in'o an old friend of mine, from England." He paused, glancing between Jack and Bootstrap as though that were a crucial piece of information. After receiving several odd looks, he continued. "He tole me abou' somethin' tha' I think ye'll find quite interesting, Jack." Matthew slowly put his hand down into the pocket of his pants, withdrawing a rather dingy looking piece of paper that could easily be mistaken for a flat piece of moldy bread.
"An' wha' is tha' supposed t' be?" Bootstrap asked, staring at the object carefully. "Did 'e give ye lunch or something?"
Jack chuckled, chiming in, "No, I think tha' the lad is goin' t' use it t' feed the crew. There's enough green stuff t' stave off scurvy on tha' thing."
Matthew laughed lightly, slowly shaking his head and ignoring his brown hair as it hit him in the eye. "No. Cap'n Jack, I'd like t' present a treasure map t' ye, compliments o' Nathaniel Butler." He held the small green paper out to Jack, waving it like a parent tempting a child with sweets.
Jack eyed it carefully before grabbing it from Matthew's grasp. "Nathaniel Butler? I din' think 'e had tha' much swag." He played with the document warped from water, wondering if he should bother unfolding it or not.
"Well, tha's wha' 'e wanted everyone t' think, apparently," Matthew replied. "He really did 'ave quite a stash. Unfortunately, I can't read the map. Tis in Latin or somethin'."
Jack slowly unfolded the map, surveying the reddish-brown writing with a curious look in his eyes. "Tis written in blood," he said softly, putting his index finger underneath the curious letters. They seemed strangely familiar. "This definitely isn' Latin," he said, glancing up at Bootstrap.
"How d' ye know tha'?" Matthew asked, clearly confused. Jack didn't seem like the kind of person that could tell if a language was Latin or not. He also didn't seem very scholarly.
Jack chuckled, glancing over at Matthew. "Tha' would be because I know how t' write Latin. These symbols are definitely English-no sort o' accents a' all. Butler mus've thought it would keep people away from 'is treasure, disguising 'is map in some sort of code. Bu' everythin' is meant t' be broken." Jack glanced carefully at the browned blood, trying to work out what it said. The solution eluded him, unfortunately, so he merely shrugged.
Matthew stared at Jack with a curious mixture of idol-worship and slight fear. If Jack could read Latin...well, that was rather remarkable and quite significant. Most pirates couldn't even read in their vernacular. Realizing his mouth was gaping, Matthew sheepishly shut it and glanced away. "Well, Cap'n," he finally stated, "I suppose tha' ye'll wan' t' go for it. I've heard tis more money than one man could ever spend."
"I highly doubt tha'," Jack said with a slight chuckle, choosing to ignore the rather cowed look of Matthew. That was something he didn't want to address-it would bring up questions of his childhood. Actually, he almost wished that Bootstrap hadn't ever seen the home he'd grown up in. Pirates did not respect a man from a high status in life, generally, and since Jack was working to become the most known pirate in the Caribbean, he couldn't afford to let his past catch up to him.
Matthew shrugged in response, trying not to become Jack's target. Even though he knew that Jack wouldn't act superior to him (more conceited, yes, but not superior) he was now afraid that he would. Something about a proper education scared him towards the line of distrust. "Jus' wha' I've heard," he muttered, leaning back and taking a drink. "I'll le' ye think of it," he said, abruptly standing and leaving the table.
Bootstrap watched Matthew go, a faintly worried look on his face. Shaking his head slightly, he reached for his mug and took a drink of the alcohol, not bothering to look Jack in the eyes. He'd been having a hard time doing that lately, almost acting as though he had a guilty conscience.
Jack frowned, glancing at his closest friend. "D' ye think I should've tole 'im I knew Latin?" Sighing slightly, he took a drink out of his own mug, his dark brown penetrating gaze never leaving Bootstrap's lighter brown eyes as he waited for a response. Jack was remarkably good at pretending some things never happened.
"Well," Bootstrap replied after careful consideration. "It probably wasn' the wisest thing. Bu' I really don' know why tis upsettin' 'im so much. Who cares if ye once took Latin lessons?" He felt vaguely uncomfortable as he looked back at Jack, getting the impression that he was looking at himself through Jack's eyes.
"He shouldn' care. Bu' it appears tha' 'e does. Maybe 'e has some sort of bad memory of church." Jack chuckled easily, more to relieve the tension between himself and Bootstrap than to laugh at his particularly bad joke.
Bootstrap wasn't amused at all by Jack's rather weak joke, nor did he particularly want to ease the tension between the two of them. "Jack, some men find it unnervin' when their captain knows more than a pirate should," he replied cryptically. Sighing slightly, he stood after dropping two coins to pay for his and Matthew's drinks. "I've got t' go, Jack. Few things I need t' teach the new crew members."
"By all means, go," Jack replied, not even glancing up at Bootstrap again. The taller man really was getting on his nerves lately. His new crew members really couldn't glean much information from Bootstrap while the Pearl was anchored. Sailing wasn't something you could learn from stories. Sighing as Bootstrap left, Jack picked up his mug and finished off the last of his rum, eager to move onto something less discouraging.
"D' ye think I should go after it?" Jack asked, glancing down at the greenish map sitting on the table between himself and Barbossa. He was now in a different tavern, drinking from a different mug. The rum here tasted faintly dirty, but that could be the fact that Jack was sure the bartender hadn't cleaned this mug. It also tasted faintly of whiskey.
Barbossa seemed to consider it for a while. "Well, Jack, I can't say tha' I've heard of any sort of bad connotations connected to Butler's treasure. Bu' the map tends to indicate he'd have some sort of protection, if 'e went all out t' put his map in'o a code." Barbossa liked making vague answers. He'd probably be a good diplomat to some small country, if he'd ever considered politics as a job.
Jack sighed softly, tracing the writing on the map with his left index finger. It could be risky-and Jack was rather tired of making risky ventures. Even though he was a pirate, there was a point where enough was enough. If he put his entire crew in harm's way again, Jack might find a mutiny on his hands then next time he tried a venture like this. Or, he might come across as the wrong sort of pirate. But the lure of gold is very strong, and Jack felt as though he needed to get enough swag to satisfy his old crew as some sort of apology for what happened.
Barbossa was watching Jack carefully, seeming to guess what the eccentric captain was thinking. "Well, Jack, if I were captain, I'd go after it. Some of the crew are rather upset over the whole Spanish thing, an' ye still 'aven' paid Ragetti for 'is eye."
That was true-Jack hadn't paid Ragetti for the eye he'd lost. There was an agreed upon compensation for pirates and sailors alike if they lost a body part. It was one of the things generally in the pirate's code. Specifically, for the Black Pearl, Jack owed Ragetti eight hundred pieces of eight for something as valuable as an eye. He didn't have that money right now, so it seemed inevitable that the Pearl would have to go after the treasure of Nathaniel Butler. "I suppose we will," Jack replied, though he didn't seem to thrilled about it. The whole idea of a treasure map seemed rather alien to Jack. Why would a captain horde his swag for so long if he could spend it on pleasurable company and alcohol? Not to mention the costs of running a ship that could be feared in the Caribbean.
Barbossa nodded slightly. "Good idea, Cap'n. Tis for the best. Can't have a debt t' Ragetti too long, seein' as ye can't let 'im go until his choosing." Men who lost body parts in battle had the privilege of being on the ship as long as they wanted as part of their compensation. It was useful-a pirate with one leg couldn't really find other work if he had to leave his ship.
"True," Jack replied with a sigh. That was a frightening thought; having to keep Ragetti on the Pearl until Ragetti tired of being a pirate. The thought also happened to be a rather nauseating one, so Jack took a deep drink of his rum.
Barbossa nodded again, the wisps of his brown hair slightly showing the pearly gray of experience. "I can 'elp ye wiv the map, Jack. I have a friend who can figure out any sort of code." He put his weather-beaten hand down and picked up his own mug, taking a drink of his whiskey in much the same way Jack had just had a drink of his.
Jack pondered that idea for a moment, rolling it around in his mind like a large round boulder rolling between two hills. Finally, he reached a decision as he stared numbly at the map. "Tha's alrigh'. I can figure it out meself." He wasn't being stubborn or independent-now that he was rather drunk, it was starting to make sense.
Barbossa shrugged and slowly stood, seemingly a bit disappointed in Jack's response. "If yer sure, Cap'n." When Jack nodded, he pushed his chair back and pulled out a coin, dropping it onto the table for the barmaid. "If it doesn' work out, jus' find me," he grunted, turning and walking away from the table like a drunk fox.
Jack really didn't hear Barbossa's grunt as he continued to stare at the letters. Something about them seemed rather simple, yet complex at the same time. Whomever had drawn the map had very nice handwriting, though, for it almost looked like calligraphy and was very small and each letter was easily distinguished from the previous. Blinking a few times, Jack moved his finger from the map. Something about it was gnawing at the back of his mind like the mice that enjoy gnawing through sacks in the bilge. He supposed that sometime in the near future, he'd suddenly shout, "Eureka!" and run to his ship to search his maps. The one island he could see looked vaguely familiar, though it was a familiarity that seemed to come from a dream.
Laura- Whoo hoo! A cupcake! Just what I've always wanted! And I'll try not to beat up Jack so much. Shame on me and my sadistic streak. And it did take you quite a while. But that's okay, I'm often rather slow on many things as well. And you probably shouldn't gamble. I explained the two highest hands. There's a lot of other ones that you could get, and some rules I didn't go into...
Alteng- Well, they do. But not yet. Barbossa does have it out for Jack. But if he didn't, there'd be no reason for Barbossa to incite the mutiny, after all. And you're right. Bleedings did work. But not for things like broken ribs. Twas more for things like pneumonia that bleeding did anything.
PussInBootsAndMunkizNamedJack- Thank you! Especially for leaving a review! Sometimes I feel like I'm writing for just about seven people. Nice to know that other people are reading as well.
Jack- I liked this last one better than the one before it as well. Though, the dream with Ragetti was kinda fun. But so was the poker match. Thanks for being honest. I like to know when people have a problem with my work. Have a cookie! And my names...well, some come from the guild. Most come from Meagan means pearl, Kent means white...so, she's like the antithesis of the Pearl. Anyway, I also use suggestions from people.
Daisy- You should expect me to use your suggestions. Tis why I ask. And don't you shave your armpits? Not that I have any right knowing. And I know...just think of the Elizabeth in my story as looking like your sister but acting like my sister-in-law. Not that she's a strumpet...hmmm....and of course I am! Why wouldn't I? But all in good time.
sunkist3208- I notice you haven't updated yet...what happened to the whole Monday thing? Ah well...I know you'll eventually update again. I mean, tis hard to keep churning out ideas all the time...and thanks for the review, as always! Hyper, sugar-fueled reviews are always interesting. And I'm glad you like my descriptions...I honestly think of myself as bad at descriptions.