Before The Dawn

Chapter X: Of Tortuga and Idols

By FalconWing

Jack made very sure to keep his hair tied back and a lowered hat obscuring much of his face before they went ashore. The less he looked like Captain Jack Sparrow, the better – the last he wanted was one of his old lady friends to recognize him and reveal his true identity at this point.

There had been no black sails docked in the bay and he deemed it unlikely they would use a hidden cove in this instance. It looked like he would have to get out of this mess himself.

So it was that he found his way navigating the convoluted streets of Tortuga trailed by Clavell, Brock and a group of around twenty handpicked men. A small watch had been set back on board the Jolly and the remainder of the crew had been released on shore leave. No doubt they had settled in perfectly and were currently immersing themselves in the wonders of alcohol and pleasurable company.

He strode through the narrow roads and allowed his mind to wander, trusting it to his feet to remember the road. It was, after all, one they had taken many times before.

He had come to a conclusion regarding Clavell while directing the men to lower anchor in the main bay of the island that was Tortuga. The man must have wanted an excuse to raise Jack's status for him to be willing to sacrifice three prime sailors. That meant that he was likely right where Clavell wanted him. He was probably playing right into the man's greedy hands. Jack didn't like that. He didn't like playing by other people's rules; he was someone who liked to play his own completely different game.

The sound of footsteps broke into his reverie and he looked back as Clavell caught up to him. "Daniels, are ye sure we're goin' th' righ' way? In case ye didn' realize we appear t' headin' into th' back of beyond."

Looking around, Jack noticed that Clavell was right. The hustle-bustle of the unruly Tortugan streets had faded into the background and the well-worn, busy roads had given way to as much of a wilderness as this wretched island could sustain as they had traveled further afield. This fact did not worry him though. They were heading the right way and he said as much.

The captain didn't reply but settled for sending him a dubious glance. Jack affected not to be aware of the fact that he was under scrutiny and continued down the trail that only he knew was there. Clavell elected to keep pace with him and tramped along through the dried remnants of undergrowth.

The only noises were those of their passage and the conversations taking place behind them in hushed tones. Every now and then the sound of flesh contacting flesh carried up to them – even in the early morning the bugs were out in full force and intent on making their presence known.

Time passed and tempers deteriorated as they trekked through the scrub without seeming to get anywhere. In fact, that wasn't far from the truth. A month earlier – was it only a month? – Anamaria had shown him how to make a concoction that she had guaranteed to repel any little critters aiming to make him their meal and he was now taking full advantage of the opportunities it gave him by leading them all in what could only be described as the very long way to their goal.

It was a petty revenge, he knew, but it was all he could do at the moment. Ashore the night before, Jack had managed to scrounge up some of the herbs and safe behind the layer of pulp juice smothered over any and all exposed flesh, he just hadn't able to resist.

And that's why it wasn't until some ridiculous time had gone by that they finally found their way into a small clearing near the northern coast. In the centre sat an unusually large log cabin and at a closer look the surrounding environment all showed signs of human habitation.

Jack signaled for everyone to stop and turned to speak to Clavell. "The man's a bit flighty with strangers so best if I go in first and have a wee talk before introducing to him to all these blokes."

His gaze was somber but he noticed Clavell's eyes following the extravagant gestures of his hands and stilled them immediately, a litany of curses in several languages immediately springing to mind. It was only yesterday he had been determined to not have any more of his old mannerisms creep up on him and yet as time went by, it seemed that they were sneaking past his guard more frequently. It seemed old habits died harder than he had thought.

But the other man only nodded assent and Jack made his way up to the cabin making sure to keep his walk balanced and steady as he felt Clavell's piercing gaze on his back.

The windows were shuttered so he picked his way across various objects between him and his objective; namely, the door. Several bumps and bruises later he was rapping sharply on it and throwing tense glances back at the gang waiting at the edge of the clearing under the overhanging branches.

When there was no answer he balled his hand into a fist and resorted to thumping the wooden surface. As he gathered his weight to throw another strike, the door swiftly swung open and he was left struggling to regain his equilibrium as his forward momentum threw him off. Stability regained he resettled his hat on his head and looked up to the familiar yet unsettling sight of a pistol aimed between his eyes. And when unsettled there was only one thing to do.

Jack grinned widely and allowed his hands to wave flamboyantly as he spoke. This was a man he could trust – had to trust, really – with his true identity. And what was a small matter like an assumed alias between old friends anyway?

"Joe, my man. It's good to see you too, but I'm sure I would feel much more welcomed if ye lowered that gun of yours and invited me in for a drink. I'm here on urgent business and before my mates out there feel the need to come and have a look-see at things they shouldn't there are some very important facts you need to be made aware of."

But instead of steeping aside to let him pass, Joe took a step forward to peer under the brim of the hat. His mouth dropped open as he recognized just who it was that stood on his doorstep. "Jack Sparrow! Well I'll be damned!" Jack only took a deep breath to ease his irritation. It had been amusing to begin with, but by now he was, quite frankly, tired of having people's jaws threaten to fall off their hinges just at the sight of him. He was fairly sure that the braided beard – or lack of it – made that much difference to his overall appearance.

Joe had continued talking, oblivious to his audience's preoccupation and Jack had tuned much of it out, but a name caught his attention.

"…the Black Pearl and Anamaria and Gibbs came straight here o'course. They was asking about you too. Said something about you going and getting yourself in more trouble. 'Course I hadn't seen you and I said as much. 'I haven't seen him since last month when you all came here' says I. Only a few days ago was this. But here you are so they musta found you aye? That's a story I'd like to h-"

"Joe, that's just it. The Pearl didn't find me. I'm on a ship called the Jolly Roger-" Here he ignored Joe's amused snort "-and we were hit by that storm a few days ago. We need supplies to repair the mizzen mast and the rudder. I'm going by the name of Jack Daniels. You know me from when I served as a crewman on the Pearl some two months ago, savvy? Now there's a group of them out there and they're waiting for us to come out. You're a bit nervous of people you don't know."

Joe was looking a bit overwhelmed but he followed Jack out the door fast enough. Clavell alone appeared unfazed at their sudden arrival. It seemed the rest had been too busy scratching and slapping themselves to notice their approach.

Jack cleared his throat and everyone swiveled to regard him inquiringly. "This here is Joe. He will be supplying us with the material to repair both the mizzen mast. I believe the amount and price can be settled between him and the captain."

His advice was adhered to and the remainder of the day was spent traipsing back and forth between cabin and ship arms piled with timber. If anyone noticed that it took remarkably less time in these instances to get to and from that the first trip there, they didn't comment for which Jack was extremely grateful. The last thing he needed was to gain the suspicion and animosity of the crew.

Tortuga's busiest times were night – obviously – and early morning – surprisingly – so when the last of the wood was delivered just before dusk, they was a mutual feeling of relief among the men. No revelry had been missed out on, though they were fast enough to vanish off into the quickly filling streets.

Jack however was not among them.

He had been recruited for guard duty and was even now sitting up in the crows nest looking out over the town. He didn't mind. He was really quite thankful for the excuse not to go out and get drunk, though a pint of rum certainly wouldn't go amiss. All it would take was for one person to recognize him and his ruse would be blown. And if that happened he had no idea what would become of him.

Actually, on second thought he was fairly certain that he did and it did not bode well for him. Many people, not just the navy, would give their arm and leg for the right to say that they killed the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.

The sound of someone scuttling up the mast was enough to alert Jack to the fact that he had company. He turned to see Tom scramble in beside him. He briefly wondered where the boy had spent the day but decided that inquiring about that was just asking for a disconcerting answer.

"Jack?"

"Aye, lad?"

"Tell me a story about Captain Sparrow and the Black Pearl."

–          –       –       –          –

Tom couldn't decide who to idolize more: Captain Jack Sparrow of whom he heard so much about, or the man sitting beside him, weaving a tale about kidnapped governors' daughters, blacksmiths who were the sons of buccaneers, cursed treasure and undead pirates.

He knew that his answer should be, without hesitation, Captain Sparrow. But as he watched Jack Daniels wave his arms about as he talked, a faraway look in his eyes, he became torn.

Jack was an ordinary crewman but even Tom could see the extraordinary quality he possessed that just drew people to him. It was a very strange thing, but when his friend spoke about the exploits of Captain Sparrow, Tom could imagine him standing in Sparrow's place dressed in the garb he had described and standing at the helm of the beautiful coal-black ship Tom saw when Jack spoke about her.

–  – – – – – – – – – – – – –  – – – –  –  –

Wow, now was that long for me or what? Feel proud. And stuff actually happened! There was a quiz posted on TheBlackPearlSails and apparently I am a narrative writer: "You're a narrative writer. You love reading and writing long, descriptive passages and read like poetry, and are full of imagery. Just be careful not to overdo it. Not everyone wants to know the exact shade of green on the hills." Lol, sound familiar? With some changes that still fit, I was an angst writer but I won't go into all the details for that one. If you want to see what type of writer you are, go to class=MsoNormal 'text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph'>Now don't be so busy finding that out, that you forget to review. I want to know what's good, bad or needs improvement and would like to be informed of any spelling, grammatical or punctual errors in the story. Reviewers will be forever venerated.

I would also like to know if there is anyone who has the 1am database update actually happening at 1am. For me it's at 8pm so that means I'm nineteen hours ahead of wherever this site originates from. I'm just interested is all.

Reviewer's Thanks

Oneiriad: Man you reviewed fast. I had only just updated and next thing I was receiving a review alert. Thank you for being so speedy.

Alaawya: Yup, congealed slop. Sounds just the little appetizer, don't it?

Ebony: Jack's really hard to write. I reckon he's acting almost too normal. What do you think?

Anita Lawn: Oh well, I forgive you. So long as your computer is better now.

OpraNoodlemantra: They aren't meeting up with the Pearl though. The Pearl left just before the Jolly arrived. I think you missed out the last little bit on the last chapter or I'm just misinterpreting you. Brock is a dick, eh?

Crazydominodragongirl: Lol. Do you really like rum or are you just saying that? I must admit I now have a fondness for rum in my heart (wow that sounded cheesy!) but not in my taste buds. And we certainly wouldn't want to make Clavell immortal would we?

Peachfreak: Why do you think Norrington is a jerk? And it was Aaron and I did think it fit but seeing as he mentioned that for a reason, I'm sure he won't mind, eh? And as for 'where do I get the time?' I have no idea. I just sit down and write.

Savvyness: I agree with your assessment of Norrington's prospects, the poor bloke.

Beregond'sGirl: I think it is just your dirty mind with the guy/girl thing. She's a bit of a nutty gal so I don't think anything will be happening in that department. And I do try to make my reviewer responses vary a bit. Sometimes it feels like I'm writing the same thing over and over. "thank you for reviewing" "thank you for reviewing" "thank you for reviewing" etc. And have you figured out what's going to happen or is the detective cap and bubble pipe going to waste?

Thank you everyone for reviewing! And of course those that read but didn't review (just not as much. Lol).

Love y'all

FalconWing.