Usual disclaimers… drat!
All right… I can't tease you any longer.
Chapter 9 – Tortugan Meetings
Jem Harvey limped quietly along the lane, determinedly shadowing the stealthy figure ahead. He was sure that he had recognised the man, but went cautiously, afraid of another trap of Corbin's. The man looked like Joshamee Gibbs and he took heart from the thought that perhaps all of the crew were not dead, and that – maybe – Jack was alive too. He paused, hugging the shadows as the person he was following stopped and looked around. His breath caught, but he did not think he had been seen. The person continued, hurrying down a side alley. Jem broke into a hobbling run as he tried to keep up.
"Where is she?" a voice hissed in his ear, a blade against his throat. "Where's Bessie?"
"I'll never…" Jem paused, frowning as he recognised the voice. "Holt! You bastard!" The blade moved from his neck and he turned, catching the shadowy face of Henry grinning at him.
"Where's Bessie?" Henry demanded, whistling ahead to Joshamee Gibbs who was returning with the other men. He nodded to Henry and Jem, indicating that the men follow him back to the small warehouse in which they had been hiding.
Jem looked at Henry in hope. "Jack?" he asked, looking around as they entered the shabby building. Paul Barker closed the doors, watching cautiously through a crack to ensure they were not disturbed.
Henry shook his head. "The Captain's dead," he sighed. "The six of us are all there is… seven including you." He looked up to the rafters above. "An' Cotton's bloody bird!" he cursed, moving smartly to one side to avoid being messed on. The survivors clustered around. "Now, where is Bessie?"
"I sent her to Port Royal," Jem admitted. "Corbin came visiting and made his intentions perfectly clear. Hopefully Will can keep her and the children safe…"
"We must go to Port Royal then," Joshamee decided. "Bessie deserves to know the truth of how Jack died…"
"How did…" Jem began, listening in disbelief as Joshamee told him the series of bad luck that led to the loss of the Black Pearl and the majority of her crew. "I had hoped," he admitted, "that somehow the Captain would return. Bessie was devastated." He looked around at the others. "Especially when she discovered that she was with child again…"
"Again?" Henry gasped.
"Aye. She was waiting to tell Jack when he came back…" He did not say that obvious, that Jack was never coming back.
Joshamee sighed heavily. "We have a ship a few bays east of here," he said. "We'd best head out quietly before Corbin's men realise we are here…" At the mention of the Welshman's name, all the survivors looked nervous. They knew that they were in no position to regain the Black Pearl, and that stealth was their only hope at the moment.
"Let me tell Giselle I'm leavin'," Jem said, "an' I'll meet yer back here shortly. She's been sneaking me food... she'll worry if I disappear."
Joshamee nodded, gesturing to Wyn Bristow to follow him. "Watch his back," he ordered. "We'll head out to the ship now and the two of you can follow…"
"Aye, Captain," Wyn replied, causing Jem to look sharply at Joshamee. He shrugged. "He was th' obvious choice."
Jem shrugged, accepting the reasoning. Every ship had to have a captain, and Joshamee was as good a man as any for the job. "We'll catch you up then," he said, hobbling through the door as Paul opened it for him. "We won't be long..."
88888
Bryn Corbin paced the carpet, his boots leaving imprints in the plush pile. "Tell me that again!" he ordered.
Captain Simon Jervis sighed heavily. "It would appear Sparrow had a compass, a compass that did not bear true. It gave the bearings to where Sparrow stashed his loot… the Isla de Muerta…"
"Can we find it without the compass?" Bryn frowned. "Surely it is on a chart…"
"Nobody knows where it is, Captain." He shrugged. "So you need somebody who knows the bearings, or the compass itself… It is said to be surrounded by hazardous reefs and wrecks that even knowing the bearings cannot help with. Only the compass can do that – it indicates the safe channel."
"Damn the man!" Bryn cursed. It seemed even in death, Jack Sparrow had yet again foiled him. Momentarily he regretted throwing the body of his enemy into the sea.
"Perhaps…" Simon began cautiously.
"Perhaps what?" he demanded.
"Perhaps we could dive for the body?" he suggested. "There are reef fishers that dive deeply – as deep as that channel if not deeper. With the right persuasion…" He left his idea floating between him and his former captain.
Bryn Corbin reached for the brandy he had been drinking, swigging from the bottle. "Do so!" he ordered. "Take The Crow and bring me that compass!"
Simon Jervis nodded. "Captain," he said quietly before turning and leaving Bryn Corbin alone.
88888
Jack's eyes flickered open, to find himself staring at a small fish that was determinedly pecking his nose. A shocked cry escaped his lips, well – it would have, but for the bubbles that obscured his vision, scaring the fish away. His hand went to his chest, staring down at the hole in his shirt. Gingerly he felt his body, but nothing seemed damaged. It was only then that he recalled the fish, the bubbles, suddenly realising he was under water. He blinked, frowning, trying to make sense of what had happened. Corbin! The bloody Welshman and The Crow. He glanced up, unsurprised to see no hulls above him. Slowly he looked about him in the murky water, dismayed to see himself surrounded by dead bodies, too many dead bodies, and saddened to realise that most of them he recognised. Clearly the Black Pearl had come off worse in the encounter.
A snarl escaped his lips as he recalled his final moments on-board, when Bryn Corbin had confronted him, taunting him that he was about to lose his ship and his wi… his wife! Bessie! He had to get back to Tortuga as fast as he could. A rage he could barely contain boiled within him at the thought of the other captain even being in the same room as his wife, let alone touching her, forcing her…
A sleek, silvery body caught his eye, then a black deadly eye. Sharks! Already the water was turning reddish-pink with blood, the first feeding shark would attract more. Slowly Jack stood, checking around him for his effects, grateful to see that his pistol and sword were nearby. He picked them up, shoving his pistol into his sash and… what the… he gasped, realising that his compass was missing. Frantically, with half-an-eye on the approaching sharks, he scrambled about on his hands and knees until he admitted to himself that it was not there. Where was his compass?
A particularly bold shark came to investigate him, retreating when Jack punched it sharply on the nose. Never before had he been glad to be cursed, but now he was, realising that taking one of the gold coins to show the children had saved his life. Or, more properly, half-life. He remembered Barbossa cursing that he was neither alive nor dead. He had to find that compass and get back to the Isla de Muerta, but Bessie had to come first. He would ensure that she and the children were safe and then he would worry about the lost compass. Although he knew the bearings, the channel was tricky and he knew it was too risky to approach the island without it. Sighing heavily, he started walking, trusting to the sloping seabed to tell him which way the land could be found.
88888
There… happy now?
Merry Christmas to you all!
