A/N: 1) Tophane is one of the northern districts of Istanbul. 2) "Huz min hapanim" is a countercurse meaning "away from our faces" in Hebrew.
I'd like to thank all my loyal reviewers and readers, and ask your forgiveness for the delay. I'm really sorry. Alteng, BlackJackSilver, Cupcakeswirl, Elaneon, Eldrid - I love you and please accept my apologies.
V
Inci is standing by my side, holding a candlestick and weeping. Big pearly tears are rolling down her little face, she's sniffing loudly like a scared baby.
I asked her once what she thought about when she cried like that, and it turned out that she's recalling the day when Lady Selanik, the leader of a dance troupe from Tophane, died of seventeen knife wounds. Lady Selanik was very fond of little Inci, always caressing her and giving her sweets; it was Inci who found her beautiful friend choking on her blood, her hands bound by a white scarf, a love poem embroidered with green thread on it. Lady Selanik's death is the darkest memory of Inci's Istanbul childhood and therefore the surest one to bring tears to her sweet eyes. Every time Inci needs to appear unhappy, Lady Selanik is eager to help.
She didn't fail this time either. Poor Gibbs on the floor is horrified to see Inci - ah, pardon me, Mlle Isabella Dou is the name that the Port Royal folks know her by - all in tears, trembling and miserable. Her skinny hand encircled around her huge belly tries to protect the baby inside her. She does her best not to raise her voice; she doesn't want to enrage me, for sure.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, lady," I say to her, gesturing with my pistol. "Just be quiet about all this, feed Gibbs properly, and I promise that you'll come to no harm. I'm not that interested in hurting women and babies. But if you happen to change your mind, I'd just like you to know that not only won't you see your old Sophie again, but your child - born or not - won't be safe from me, either."
Inci sniffs, covering her face.
"I hope you'll be cooperating, uncle Gibbs," I say to him, grinning broadly. I'd bet Inci envies me now, because I can smile and she can't. "Just don't cause Mademoiselle Dou and me any trouble, or your chances to see your sister again are rather thin."
"You're the most dishonourable piece of shit I've ever seen, Ritchie Brown," he spits out. "Not even your captain, who was a Devil's cousin himself, would have hurt women and children."
"And it didn't do him any good, now did it?" I ask him. "He'd be much better off if he killed this sweet Mrs Turner that all you good pirates seem to be so fond of. And I haven't done anything to your sister yet, but can change my mind, if you don't behave nicely."
Gibbs shifts uncomfortably on the stone floor when I look thoughtfully at Inci. She blinks, forgetting to weep. Her eyes are so beautiful, deep dark with thousands of flickers, and I don't know if they come from the candles she's holding or from her inner hellish fire that never ceases to burn. I know only that I cannot help myself, when I have my little imp so close.
"Such a pretty girl you are, Mademoiselle Dou," I say with a smile, making a step towards her. She backs away, raising the candlestick threateningly. Ah, isn't she perfect?
"Hey, Ritchie," pants Gibbs, "stop it, damn you... Leave the lady alone!"
"Are you going to smack me with this thingy, love?" I ask her patiently, making another step. "It'll become very, very dark in here. You could stumble and hurt yourself. Or even your precious baby."
"You dirty bastard," says Gibbs under his breath, wriggling, trying desperately to get rid of his bonds. "Don't you dare... Fer God's sake, she's pregnant!..."
I'm pretending that I don't hear him at all, with my eyes on Inci, who lowers the candlestick and makes a move as if she wanted to run away up the basement stairs.
"Where are you going, little girl? To talk to your big governor? Do you know what would happen when he finds out that you have some old pirate in the abandoned house? He's going to hang him. And his poor old sister will die of sorrow. You can't do that to them."
Inci stops and looks at Gibbs helplessly. He is desperate to get my attention.
"Ritchie, you son of a bitch... I swear... I will do anything you want. I won't move not an inch from here, just let her go... let her go, do you hear me!"
I step so close to Inci that I can feel how much all this crying has warmed her little body. Her eyelids are swollen just so slightly, the dark tresses on her temples are damp and she smells of raisins even more than usual.
"You are too precious a jewel to be wasted on any man," I say before I touch her cheek. Then I kiss her hastily, deeply and roughly, caressing her neck and arms - Inci laughs into my mouth, but it can be easily mistaken for a sob - while poor Gibbs is thrashing, swearing and cursing on the stones. Damn, we have to get him a mattress, or he's going to catch a cold.
Inci does a good job, pretending to struggle with me, and I let her push me away.
"Mi-mister Gibbs..." she moans, sliding heavily down to the floor near his head.
"God, Miss Dou," he replies, his voice trembling, "I'm truly sorry... it's... I promise I won't cause you any trouble... and you can be sure that my Captain won't get caught so easily, you trust me. He will come here and he will help us."
Inci wipes her eyes with a quite confused sigh.
"Uhm," I say, "I can understand that you don't want to dignify me with a word, lady, but I just want to make things clear. You're in no danger unless you try to cheat me. And I must say that you're so sweet that if uncle Gibbs tries to disobey or to escape, it's you who's going to pay for him... hmm... according to the offence. For example, he calls me names and I kiss you. One kiss for each word. Oh, I do like the idea! Hey, mate, say something, quick. I could do with one more kiss. No?... Awww, now you've really disappointed me."
When Inci and me leave the basement, it's already dawn, but fortunately the street is still empty. I wait in the garden, watching Inci go back inside her house, where Gibbs' sister, Sophie, is sleeping a heavy sleep caused by Inci's potion.
Everything went just as we planned. Gibbs and Sophie didn't realize that there's something more in their ale than they prefer; and Sophie had to eat some of her mistress' chicken soup, because Inci was complaining that it tasted bitter. And since the potion that Inci added to the soup was a bit different to the one in the ale, Sophie's sleep is sounder than her brother's, but also much healthier; she didn't drink all of her ale and went to bed very early.
Poor Gibbs woke up shortly after we transported him to the abandoned house on the opposite side of the street. Of course it was me who was carrying him, or rather dragging him along; Inci was taking care of the candles, the blanket, and the ropes we used to bind him. We needed Gibbs to be awake before we left, because we didn't want him to cry for help or throw a tantrum. The house had been abandoned for a long time and the garden around it is pretty big, but you never know who might hear the noise. We had to be sure that Gibbs understood his situation.
I was honest with him. I told him he was the bait to lure Jack Sparrow to Port Royal. I told him I'm going to give Sparrow away to the authorities, that is, to Commodore Norrington. I told him I have his sister as a prisoner and that Inci is going to take care of him, because if she doesn't, I'm going to hurt her and Sophie. I told him I don't have anything against him personally, not even all those lies he told about me that morning in the Red Stocking. Nothing could make him happy, though. He called me a monster and promised me that Sparrow would break every bone in my body, while Anamaria poured hot tar on my wounds, and he, Gibbs, held me still. Thus he made me kiss Inci again; it was a very deep kiss, and when I finished it, Gibbs was almost crying, apologizing and begging me to stop. And when we left him, we were sure that he'd be humble as a nun.
Thus our quiet waiting has begun. There is nothing more that needs doing, not for a week or so. Gibbs is allowed to stay in Port Royal two days more, and then he's supposed to go back to Tortuga, because Sparrow's crew is there, preparing the Black Pearl before sailing to Cancun. I think it's going to take about six days for Sparrow to begin worrying about Gibbs, and then I will go to Tortuga to parley with him. My little devil is really scared of that, and she doesn't miss any opportunity to remind me about the danger. She is afraid of Sparrow; she doesn't want me to go to Tortuga, where he's surrounded by his men, and the very fact that he was able to kill my Captain gives him a half-god status in her eyes.
Why didn't I tell her about what I heard from Groves? Why am I silent about the possibility of Barbossa being alive? I don't know. There's not many secrets we hide away from one another, and yet we have them. Maybe this is why we can't live together. Both of us have that dark taint, something in our blood that drives us towards what people call chaos, corruption and madness, and what we call freedom; but when we give ourselves up to it, we go alone. I go through my own dark passages, and Inci has her own paths too; we don't follow one another's steps, and when one of us leaves, the other turns their back and doesn't watch.
Inci is pregnant and I don't want to leave her, but I know that if she finds out about my Captain, she'll be sure I'm going to go away. I won't tell her anything now.
If you don't count caring for Gibbs - we visit him in turns - we're spending our days on sweet leisure. Inci shares her time and bed between me and her governor; from time to time she plays cards with Sophie, who is rather anxious about her brother, but who understands that he might have some urgent business. I share my time and bed between Inci and Groves, who visits me every afternoon. Sometimes he stays until morning. If he could, he wouldn't leave my room at all.
"Don't you have to be on duty tomorrow?"
"I will be there in time."
"You'll be sleepy all day."
"Are you trying to chase me out, Ritchie?"
"I don't want you to spend your next day under arrest because you fell asleep on duty."
"Don't worry," he whispers, opening my shirt. He's quick to learn. I haven't had to undress myself anymore since the first time.
He doesn't take his eyes off me. His hands are always on me. He's studying me with a mix of contempt, curiosity and incredulity, as if I were some mythical creature which he thought non-existent until now. I saw the same look in Norrington's eyes. Ah, decent people. They can't believe that they are in the same room with me, they can't believe that I'm still alive with them loathing me so much; for loathing is what they feel for me, even if they desire me at times.
Groves loathes me for a whole bunch of things. He cannot look away, when I'm walking through the room completely naked, but he's red as a brickmaker.
"Ritchie, for God's sake... you could dress yourself at least when you're eating!"
"It's hot as hell, and... uhm, officer, do you really want me to dress? Methinks it's a waste of time."
He blushes, then changes the subject:
"What are these bite marks on your shoulder?"
"Got 'em from you," I try.
"You know it's not me."
He's right. He never uses his mouth on me, except for kissing. On the mouth. So much for the finesse.
"Uh, it's my girl."
"You're seeing a girl here?"
"Well, yes. She lives by the harbour. She knows a lot about folks who sail here."
"Is she your lover?"
"I don't love her, if that's what you mean."
"So you're trading your body again. This time for information."
"I like her a lot."
"It isn't a business to you, then."
"Both," I say. "Business and love business."
"You sleep with men and women. Whom do you prefer?"
"Both," I say, reaching for the bread. He snatches the tray from before me.
"Stop stuffing your stomach for one moment!" he yells. "I'm talking to you now. Do you ever do anything except for eating, fucking and sleeping!"
I can think about one activity more, but I'm not sure it'd make him happy, so I just sigh and lean on the hard pillows, looking at him. He sits by the table, dressed in his breeches - he always puts them on, when we're resting - angry and impatient.
"It's not true you like both sexes. You must feel better with one of them," he demands.
"Well, each one is different," I say, "but that's the point. Women satisfy me in one way and men in the other."
"You're seeing your girl, because I can't satisfy you."
"No... uh, well, if you put it that way, yes. And I'm coming back to you because she can't satisfy me. I need you both. What is so unusual about it?"
It's his turn to sigh.
"I can't... I don't feel anything for women."
"What do you mean?"
"This is why I can't believe you. I cannot believe that you find men desirable and... and beautiful, and at the same time you can sleep with women. There's nothing interesting in a woman's body. She's soft and weak, and full of tears and shrieks and stupidity."
"Oh, I know, I've met people like you," I say cheerfully. "But the only thing you need is to stop fearing women. One day you will fall in love with a girl. You know, men are strong and all that, but women are much more beautiful, if you ask me. And as for their character, there are quite reserved and powerful women too. And I know many women who could easily outwit men. Or do you know what? Let's invite one girl to bed. I'll show you how..."
"Ritchie, you're sliding down to hell on a greased pole."
"Aye, greased it must be," I blurt out, and he hides his face in his hands.
I know how terrified he must be after - oh no, in the midst of - all that we do in bed. When he finishes with me, he always seeks something in my face. I guess it's a sense of shame, maybe remorse of what we had just done. But he never finds a trace of it. I smile at him, sometimes I ask how it was, sometimes I just stretch my body and go to sleep, and my sleep is deep and sound - how could it be otherwise with Inci's urging eyes in my mind? I feel that should I show the slightest sign of reflection, he would think that there's no salvation for him and that he's damned already, because he should know better than me.
"Ritchie, do you realize it's a sin?"
"Sure I do."
"Do you ever think about it?"
"About what?"
"Leave that lute alone!... A sin."
"Which one?"
"Don't play stupid with me. A sin of Sodom."
"Well, Sodom or not, it goes under one name of Lust, anyway. You have to confess that you sinned with lust, and there you go free."
"Stop plucking that damned lute."
"Hey, everything is a sin today. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't fuck because it's sin, is music a crime now, officer?... And my lute needs some tenderness from time to time. Oh, I know, I'll sing you a song about a sin."
That's the first time when I can prove to him that I'm really a musician.
"Justa fue mi perdicion,
de mis males soy contento;
ya no espero galardon,
pues vuestro merecimiento
satisfizo a mi pasion."
It's nice to see him soften. He knows Spanish, and he understands these simple words: "my perdition was just, and I'm content with my sins; I expect no reward, for your favor satisfied my passion."
Yet he despises me for my shamelessness, opportunism, depravity and lack of higher feelings. It's a point of honor for him to despise himself too, because of the desire he feels for me. I'm afraid that this self-loathing may take over some day. As for me, I don't feel any desire for him. I'm perfectly cold; only from time to time I'm able to derive some pleasure from his rough caresses, although he allowed me to be what he calls 'in charge' only once. I need him, that's all. Sometimes I pity him, sometimes I fear him, but most of the time I deceive him. I can't help it.
There was that day when he didn't touch me, but sat by the door, looking at me without a word. I was sitting on the bed, mending my shirt. He didn't move, when I invited him to sit near me.
"Why doesn't your harbour girl do the sewing for you?"
"She's busy," I said thinking of Inci playing lute for poor Sophie and carrying food for Gibbs. "I can mend my clothes without her help."
"Sometimes I feel you lie to me even in your sleep."
Uhm, you're right, I thought, threading a needle; but I was silent. It's better to say nothing in such moments. You defend yourself, you accuse yourself.
"Sometimes I think your girl doesn't even exist."
Don't think of following me, when I'm visiting Inci, Lieutenant Groves, or it will be the worse for you, however much I'd like to prevent it, I thought.
"I've talked to certain people here who happen to remember you and your captain. And I've heard interesting things."
"Really?... I was only a humble pirate, officer. I'm surprised to hear that anyone would even remember my name."
"They say..."
He halted his words suddenly. It was the first time I looked up at him. His voice was strained and full of pain.
"What do they say?"
"They say that you... you were Barbossa's... God. You know what I mean... and you were faithful to him."
"I was Barbossa's God-you-know-what-I-mean?"
"You were his lover," he said harshly.
I should have laughed, but I couldn't. A sudden wave of anger washed over me, and I made a mistake - I looked Groves straight in the eye.
He understood me only partially. He saw death in my stare, and got up immediately, his hand reaching for his pistol.
"So that is true," he said through clenched teeth.
"You're a fool, Lieutenant."
"Yes, I was a fool to trust you."
"As if you had ever trusted me!" I yelled. "All you do is spy on me and count my words! What the hell do you want from me? Tired of me already, eh?..."
"No more lies and excuses, Ritchie," he said with some sort of pained triumph in his voice. "I read a few very interesting documents regarding you and your captain, and I drew a few conclusions no less interesting. You were with Barbossa day and night for nearly five years. You served him and fought for him. You never tried to escape or to serve under any other man. The crew hated you, he was the only one who protected you, and you never went against him. And in the end you..."
"And what the hell are you trying to prove?"
"I'm not stupid. You ruined all your life for that man. You wouldn't have done half of those things if you hadn't been his lover."
"You're confusing things," I said furiously. "First, I would've done thrice as much only to keep myself alive. Second, your fancy ideas don't belong to the world you're talking about. Find yourself a lass, if you want to throw a fit of jealousy. Men like Barbossa don't take cabin boys for lovers. They just fuck them."
Groves blushed, but tried to keep his ground.
"Why didn't you run away from him?"
"Where to, pray tell?... I had no family in the New World. I was only fourteen. You think it was only me who was forced into piracy?... At first, I stayed because I was too frightened to run away, and when we moored somewhere, I was kept locked in the brig. And then, after I'd been into battle and killed people, I figured out there's no way back."
If only Groves knew the truth that I was dragging him away from!... The slightest idea of parting with Barbossa had never entered my mind. If only Groves knew that on my first landing in the New World, when our ship, La Aranha, moored at Antigua, I paid more attention to Barbossa's lady-love, Rose O'Mallory, than to my own freedom; that on our second landing on St. Thomas I was allowed to go free, but I didn't even set my foot on land; that the Captain himself wanted to get rid of me so many times, but in vain!...
Groves left his chair by the door and sat near me on the bed.
"You say they forced you to become a pirate," he said, looking into my eyes, "but as far as I know, you had more than one chance to turn against them. You never did. You were loyal to Barbossa."
"I got accustomed to things," I answered, holding his gaze. "Barbossa was a good captain, he had his big share of luck, he knew how and when to fight, and he knew with whom to keep alliances. And he wasn't that bad, if you knew how to please him."
"Did he please you?..." Groves asked in a whisper.
I shook my head patiently.
"Another fancy idea of yours, Lieutenant. I was the youngest of his crew, I was amongst the spoils of war, and was treated as such. It's fair game, but there's no pleasure included."
"He forced you to be his whore, then."
"Simple, ain't it?..."
If Groves could see me, when I was Barbossa's cabin boy, he would just cross himself. Everything I did had only one purpose - to make the Captain touch me, no matter how; I was happy even when beaten. He didn't have to force me, I was the most willing whore in the world!... Forgive me, Captain, I thought, forgive me for blaming you for my own folly; if you are alive, I'll escape from Groves, I'll fly to your side and prove my words false once again.
Groves sighed, took the shirt and the needle from me and made me raise my head.
"I don't know what possessed me to think that you could have felt anything benevolent for that man," he said quietly, putting his hands on my shoulders.
"Lieutenant Groves, fuck doesn't equal love. We are a nice example."
"What do you mean?" he asked, taking his hands off me and frowning.
"We're having a nice time together, we like each other, but it's not love."
He watched me for a while, then smiled sadly and looked away.
"I'm not sure what I'm feeling," he said in a quiet voice, with his eyes on the once-white jug we were using for washing. "I wish you were right."
Oh no, I thought in panic.
"I am deadly right," I said, slipping my hands into his shirt. He jumped up. "It's called pleasure, Lieutenant. Carnal pleasure, nothing more. Don't you feel too sorry for me, because I've learned a few quite useful things being a cabin boy, and I haven't shown you all of them yet."
"How can you be so dispassionate about yourself?" he asked almost painfully, turning around to look at me.
"Dispassionate, why?... because I can make fun of the whole thing? Should I cry or what?..."
He embraced me suddenly.
"I just wanted to know... forgive me, Ritchie," he murmured, breathing in my ear. "It's true that we have usually more than one motive when we do something... I didn't mean to..."
"It's all right. I'm free now. At last I can pay back what I am due to Barbossa, if he's alive," I said. "With Commodore Norrington's help... and with yours, if you are willing."
"I most certainly am." He clenched his teeth. "But you should take care. I know Barbossa trusted you once, but he's shrewd, and you're still too inexperienced to deceive him. And he's cruel and ruthless like no other. He didn't even hesitate to kidnap and hurt the Governor's daughter. Who knows what would have befallen her if Turner hadn't rescued her. Your captain is a monster."
"Every pirate is," I noted innocently.
"They are mostly worthless sinners, that's right, but I've seen at least one man who could escape from a prison and steal a ship without killing a soul."
"Hey, where's your catechism, little Theodore? A soul is immortal, you can't kill it anyway. And who is that hero of yours?" I asked, although I knew an answer.
"I was a witness to how Jack Sparrow stole the Interceptor, the fastest ship in the Caribbean, from under the very eyes of Commodore Norrington, only with Turner's help, and sailed to Tortuga. No one got hurt, just a few men took an unexpected bath, that was all."
"Must have been quite a sight."
"Oh, it was." He leaned on the windowsill. "That time I thought that Sparrow was the best pirate I've ever seen. I suppose I made the Commodore slightly angry, because I didn't keep that observation to myself."
"You admire Sparrow, then."
"I can't admire a pirate, Ritchie, I'm an officer of the Royal Navy. But I admired his courage and wit, yes. And I appreciate that he managed to get away without bloodshed."
"You don't think he deserves the gallows?"
"I'd rather not be a judge in his case. But I was glad he escaped the noose." He looked at me. "He's surely a legend. You don't think so?"
"I'd be happy if you were glad when I escape the noose too, some day," I said.
"You already did, when you became the Royal Navy's informer, didn't you? I'm sure the Commodore will rehabilitate you if you help him to catch Barbossa and his men who are still around."
"Oh, I'll help the Commodore, no doubt about that," I said. "I have to go to Tortuga soon."
"Do you expect Barbossa's men to show up there?" He frowned suddenly.
There was something in his voice which made me look closer at him.
"What if I do?"
"Does Commodore Norrington know about it?"
"Not yet. That is fresh news. I'm going to see him on Saturday... Why?"
"The Royal Navy restored peace to these waters and is determined to keep it. Tortuga ceased to be a pirate's abode and is much safer nowadays than in Barbossa's time, but in order to preserve the state of things the Navy has to patrol the area. The Dauntless and the Intrepid will sail to Tortuga next week, probably on Thursday."
I sat up, excited.
"Are you going there too, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, I am, along with other officers."
"Oh, isn't that great! We're going to Tortuga together, then!"
"What are you talking about!"
"I have yet to inform the Commodore, but..."
"Ritchie, you're insane," he said, shaking his head. "Commodore Norrington cannot let you go aboard the ship of the Royal Navy. You may be his informer, but this has to remain a secret until you can be openly acquitted of all charges."
"And there is only one way for me to acquit myself," I said excitedly. "I have an extremely important task to fulfill. I am to meet somebody who can lead me to Barbossa. From what I am told, he is probably alive. And before I get to him, I may be able to catch some small fry too. Listen, this is Divine Providence at work. The Royal Navy will be ready to assist me, when the time comes. And I am more likely to make people on Tortuga talk, than all of you Navy men."
"Impossible. Do you think that nobody here remembers you? There are not only young officers like me in the Royal Navy. There are men who has been in service for a long time. They met Barbossa, they might have met you. You didn't probably change much, and -" he pointed to my hand, "you have a pirate brand."
"I know how to make myself unrecognizable. I just need your help," I whispered, looking into his eyes.
"I cannot help you if I don't know what you're up to." He started to waver.
"But you will, if I tell you what I'm going to do?"
"I'm not sure."
"Oh, try to trust me for a change!... Don't you understand you can get some credit for it too?... And I promise you that even if I don't bring some dangerous criminals to justice, I will render Commodore Norrington quite pleased anyway. Oh, and didn't you promise me just a while ago that you'd be glad to help me deal with Barbossa and his men?"
Groves started to blink confusedly.
"If you could promise me that you won't get caught..."
"Don't you worry, Lieutenant Groves."
"Now tell me your plan."
At first he was horrified to hear what I was going to do. He called me a lunatic and swore that he won't have a share in my mad schemes. But I wasn't mistaken: I saw an excited light in his eyes, the same light which was there when he was talking about Sparrow stealing the Interceptor. The boy would make a formidable gentleman of fortune, if given a chance. The vision of having me at hand did the rest, and he only bade me seek the Commodore's permission, which I wasn't in the least intending to do.
I saw the poor fellow on Saturday, of course. He did come to the Red Stocking, pretending that he was there only for a drink, and didn't even look at me much (Groves was watching us discreetly). Norrington was strangely relieved when I told him that Sparrow wasn't in Port Royal yet; but he was waiting for news, and he flushed violently when I added that Sparrow would be there, probably next week. Then he lost all his interest in me; he got up from his half-full glass of shitty claret and marched out of the Red Stocking, his eyes shiny and his face utterly confused. I was happy to see him in that state.
The next day I went to see Inci, who was extremely anxious about my plan, but also very eager to get all things done. Her time was coming; there was less than a month left. It had become increasingly difficult for her to move, and she had to care for Gibbs and for Sophie. I promised her to abandon the plan and to run away to her at the first sight of danger. She seemed much relieved to know that I was able to enlist Groves's help so easily.
"Oh, he's a good fellow, then," she said. "The tanned one with bright eyes, right?"
"Yes, that's the one."
"He's got a lot of piratey spirit, I'd say. It's a pity that he serves the Navy. Maybe you should try to win him over to Barbossa's side."
"No such chance, little imp. He hates Barbossa."
"Awww, how could you leave it at that?"
"He saw Sparrow when he was stealing the Interceptor with Turner, and fell in love with him."
"Maybe he's in love with Sparrow, but he's sleeping with you."
"And that's why he hates Barbossa."
"You mean he's jealous, or what?"
"I had to make him believe that Barbossa had me against my will."
Inci burst out laughing.
"Ah, Ritchie, sweetie, that is a lie that any woman would be proud of! You make a perfect girl, you do!... We'll get you a nice dress, and nobody's going to recognize you. Don't you get married in Tortuga!..."
"Why not? You got married already - what, twice?..."
"Awww, we're in the New World now, aren't we? Those old things don't count!..."
"Surely not to me," I said, kissing her. "We'll marry you to the Governor this time. You will have even more dresses than you have now, so you can spare me one."
"You prefer a yellow one or a light-green one?"
"Oh, I trust you in these matters."
"The yellow one goes well with your eyes, but you must pass for a modest young widow... uhh, we'd better have a black dress, but you will look old in black. The green one should do."
Inci wasn't surprised in the slightest, when I told her that I'm simply going to go aboard the Dauntless as a honest British woman. The Navy mission wasn't strictly a military one, it was just a customary patrol, so that the civillians who wished to travel safely were allowed onboard. Groves didn't even mention the Black Pearl, and I was a little anxious that Sparrow would leave Tortuga before I managed to parley with him. I was counting on his friendship towards Gibbs, though.
The plan was risky, but I had no other choice than to sneak into Tortuga in disguise. I was sure that Sparrow's men were hanging around in the harbour, and I didn't want to be killed or caught before I could meet Sparrow on my own terms. As a lonely woman, on the other hand, I needed assistance.
It was Inci who suggested that I pretend to be mute. I was sure of my voice, being taught to work wonders with it, but then - Lieutenant Groves taking care of a helpless woman unable to speak would be a much more natural thing.
Inci suggested also that I undergo some special treatments. For four days - or rather nights - I was being treated like an Arabian bride. Inci complained about backside pains and made Sophie bring her hot water upstairs in the night - but it was me who took the baths, every day with different herbs. I was fed with strange things like yolks stirred with sugar, or vegetable dishes with all sort of spices. I got my face smeared with some kind of clay and was told to lay back motionless for an hour, which made me almost mad.
"Inci, love, have mercy. I've done it once already."
"You will do it three times more," she said, bending over me. "And don't move, damn you!... I'm supposed to stay clean!"
"Why do I have to endure it four times?"
"Because the mixture is different every day. Listen, Ritchie, you're thirty now, and you have led a rough life. You need some preparation before you approach a bunch of British Navy officers. We must make your skin soft and your hair shine."
"Oh, I understand that, but you don't have to bother about, say, my fingernails. I have to wear gloves anyway."
"It'd be better when you take one glove off for a moment. I've stretched them in hot water, so... Now what did I tell you? Lay still, for God's sake!"
"Please, little imp, at least sing me something. I feel like I'm dead already, lying here with some mud on my face."
"Hey, have some decency!... I've got to take in the green dress for you. I can't ask Sophie for it, you know." She chuckled. "Funny, that. Never thought you'd ever have a better waist than me."
Four days have passed and today is my last night before leaving for Tortuga. I'm walking slowly through the tired streets of Port Royal. The earth expires peacefully, sighing with relief after another hot day, the stars twinkle over the fences and walls covered with bougainvillea and jasmine. If not for the donkey dung and dead animals here and there, it'd be a paradise on Earth.
Inci is waiting for me in the garden, so I guess Sophie must have had a nice dose of sleeping potion in her ale again. I sneak through the slightly open gate, and Inci clings to me before I can speak a word.
"I'll bloody miss you," she murmurs. "Let's stay in the garden, I don't want to go upstairs right now."
We sit down on the little bench under the gentle moon. Inci sighs, and I can see that her eyes are dark from thoughts.
"Maybe," she whispers, "maybe you should wait. Maybe Sparrow will come here by himself."
"I think he doesn't realize that something bad might have befallen Gibbs. I have to talk and to bargain with him. It's going to take no more than four, five days in total. Just have some patience, love, and then I promise I will take care of your Governor and his whole household."
"I don't need your help!..."
I take her hand and place a little package in it.
"What is this?"
"My lute," I say, smiling at her. "Or should I say my Captain's lute?... Made handsome money, it did. Musical instruments are still quite rare in the Caribbean. Take it. You never know might need money. I'd sell my pistol too, but..."
"Ritchie, 'tis not funny!... You sold the lute, because... because... oh, I told you not to mess with Sparrow!..."
"Inci, Sparrow has nothing to do with it. Things happen. We can drown..."
"Huz min hapanim," says Inci quietly, rubbing her forehead against my shoulder. She can't bring herself to talk about death, and she has to chase the very thought away.
"... or something can hit me on the head... You'd better have the money. And when I come back, I'll buy the lute back again."
Inci sighs, but there's nothing more she can say. I don't know why I have this uneasy feeling that I should stay and just cling to Inci, like she is clinging to me now. I shouldn't leave her alone with the unborn baby, cowardly Governor Swann, ambitious young Turner, proud and cunning Elizabeth, helpless Sophie and demanding Gibbs on her hands. Then again, Inci can look after herself. She's walked through half the world without my assistance.
"Remember, should you need help, you may turn to Norrington," I remind her in the morning, putting myself into the green dress. "He's a man of honor, and I think he likes you. And you like him too, don't you?"
"Mind your own business," Inci advises me, yawning and examining her supplies of rouge and poudre. "I'd bet he prefers Elizabeth over me, when it comes to women. Just like he preferred Sparrow over you... Hey, don't pull that lace, stupid!... Do the gloves fit? I stretched 'em pretty much."
"The gloves are fine, but why is this bloody skirt so long?"
"Because your boots show, that's why."
"I can't use mules, little imp."
"That I know. Take care... ahh, Ritchie! You look so sweet! I want you back!"
I can't help chuckling to myself now, standing aboard the Dauntless, when I recall Groves's first reaction at my new appearance. His bright eyes were big as teacups, then he blushed, slowly, but completely, up to his ears. I know what he was thinking about - he hadn't been allowed to touch me for these five days, because Inci didn't want any new bruises on my skin ("hell, Ritchie, you have to show some neckline").
"I thought you don't like women," I hiss through my teeth, when Groves approaches me again. He hasn't got much to do now. It's past afternoon, the wind is good, the little group of civilians going to Tortuga are dozing off on their trunks and parcels. I'm standing by the railing near the forecastle, with my own little bundle by my side. There's not much in there, only a change of clothes.
"You look good, no matter what you wear," says Groves sheepishly. He's simply disarming, and I have to smile at him. Oh God, am I cheap!...
"Ahem... excuse me, there is somebody here who'd consider an honour to be introduced to you. He's my friend, Lieutenant Gillette. You know," he whispers, "he saw me lending you my hand when you were going aboard. It's the first time he saw me with a woman, so you understand..."
I fight an urge to laugh, answering Groves with a little ashamed gesture only. How relieving that I don't have to talk.
Lieutenant Gillette is the very man whom I saw on that memorable day at the Red Stocking, when Commodore Norrington bought me a bowl of soup. He was watching the Commodore and me at the hall downstairs, then he was watching the door of our room, and then he fell asleep, allowing me to take my leave with Commodore's pistol. I remember his round, clean face and proud blue eyes rather well, although I was ill and drunk that time. I don't remember his white wig, and it almost makes me smile. I don't know why, but I always find wigs quite amusing, especially on men's heads.
Groves performs the solemn presentation, introducing me as Mrs. Rebecca Somers, a widow of a British soldier, who died in HRH's service. Mrs. Somers is sailing to Tortuga on some extremely delicate family matter, and Lieutenant Groves is kindly helping her, being obliged to do so by his old London friend, who happens to be a good acquaintance of Mrs. Somers' late husband - a nice chain of lies..
Lieutenant Gillette doesn't seem to care much for Mrs. Somers' plans and connections, but I can see he is anxious to know if his mate is infatuated with me, and if I am worthy of him. Groves treats me with respect maybe too great for a lady who cannot even afford a servant, but it's obvious (or so I hope) that Mrs. Somers is a person who might have seen better times, ere she was stricken by poverty and loneliness. Mrs. Somers is so embarrassed by Lieutenant Groves' politeness; Mrs. Somers worries that she's a burden to him and a hindrance to his duty; Mrs. Somers is deeply grateful to Lieutenant Gillette for his concern and understanding, and generally Mrs. Somers is so shy that she would rather avoid looking at the gentlemen's faces. Ah, pantomime is the easiest way of lying.
Lieutenant Gillette bows to me civilly, but rather stiffly and coldly. He's looking down at me, both literally and metaphorically, and his blue eyes are searching my face for a sign of treachery. I cease to smile, I bit my lower lip, then cast my eyes down (my lashes are longer and darker than before, thanks to Inci's sorcery). Mrs. Somers finds Lieutenant Gillette suspicious of her intentions, and she's embittered. What the hell does he want from the poor woman?...
When I look at him again, he's watching me with an open leer - that particular, knowing gaze of a man who tries to intimidate a woman in order to show where her place is. He thinks that a meek creature that I am, I'm trying to catch Groves in my thin cobweb which is doomed to tear at the slightest gust. Well, it is true that honest women have to bear in silence whatever opinions cynical men have of so-called "feminine nature". Gentlemen of the world - clergymen and laymen alike - delight in talking and writing about women's follies, weaknesses and shortcomings. Women have no choice but to listen, and whatever they hear from their fathers and husbands, they allow to soak into their minds. Thus they teach the same things about the supposed flaws of their sex to their own children - daughters and sons alike - and the circle is closed.
Fortunately, those poor, obedient creatures have also shrewd, wild, hardened sisters, who sometimes succeed in sneaking into their rigid, guilt-ridden world. I hope that such will be the case with my little devil carrying a child that is a sibling to the Governor's proud daughter. Guard my steps, Inci full of grace, I think, answering Gillette with straight, resigned, yet fairly vexed look ("oh, if such is your fancy, Lieutenant, feel free to insult a poor widow with your patronizing airs - she doesn't care for you anyway; she's here on business"), and turn away to look at the sea.
I will never forget how it feels to be on the deck, with only a fragile railing and a few planks and boards between you and the watery hell. You are constantly defying your Lady Death, and the more time you spend at sea, the less you think of her, because you grow accustomed to her. She doesn't chase you, she's always at your side, why notice her then?... You become full of pride like the Devil himself, good and evil become one, like the ocean is one with the horizon - the only thing you've got to do is to marvel at it and to revel in it. Oh, I want to go back to the sea, when Norrington's affair is over and when Inci is safe and settled; no more inns and streets for me.
I didn't notice when it became dark, and the scarce lanterns were lit. I'm standing and looking at the waves and the sky. I know I should get some rest before tomorrow, but somehow I can't force myself to go to sleep like the good civil folks who are dozing off on their bundles. My hair is damp, my skirt is wet, my lips taste of salt, but I cannot go away.
"Mrs. Somers?..."
I don't look at Gillette, I only make a little move to assure him that I'm listening.
"Lieutenant Groves asked me to apologize that he can't say good night to you. He has got some work to do."
Sure he has. I told him not to approach me anymore, promising him a sweet rendez-vous in Tortuga.
"If there is anything I could be of help..."
Something in Gillette's voice makes me look at him. He's standing at a polite distance from me, with his head bowed slightly, seemingly sincere in his offer.
"It has to be very inconvenient for you to sleep like that, Mrs. Somers, but we cannot provide any better accommodation. The Dauntless is a military ship... as you probably realize. Excuse me, if I seem too bold... but if you need anything to make your rest more agreeable, I am sure we have good blankets and the like."
I shake my head blandly and return to watching the waves. No, I don't want anything, thank you very much. I want to be alone with the sea and the night.
But Lieutenant Gillette obviously doesn't intend to leave. He stands not very far from me, as if waiting for me to speak. I bless Inci once again; I can remain silent without raising suspicion.
After a while I start to feel awkward in Gillette's silent presence, and finally I shoot him a nervous glance. He is standing over the water just like me, with both his hands on the railing, still maintaining that polite distance, so that he won't scare me away... or perhaps he just forgot about me. He isn't watching the waves; he's just staring ahead, his eyes surprisingly dark, his face whiter than before. I realize that his skin is rather pale for a Royal Navy officer. Even Norrington, his superior, has got more tan than Gillette. The boy probably doesn't spend much time at sea.
"Am I disturbing you, Mrs. Somers?" he asks quietly and surprisingly gently, without looking at me. "If so, just give me a sign and I'll leave you be."
I shook my head again, but much more gracefully this time.
"Thank you," he murmurs.
I'm not sure what he wants from me, so I keep my head slightly turned to him, to let him know that I'm paying attention, if he wishes to talk. I can see him in profile; he probably sees only my loose curls flying on the wind and the tip of my nose.
"Silence is good," he says. "Silence is healing. I suppose you must be tired of it, but I can never get enough. There's not much of it in soldier's life. I'd never imagined I would need it that desperately."
And silence is what I can give him very easily; I nod and start watching the waves again.
"You don't seem disturbed by the sea voyage, Mrs. Somers. You must be a very brave woman." He pauses. "I'm often reminded that the people who look most innocent and taciturn have usually much more courage than the loud ones... I learned that lesson many times and I always forget it."
I can feel a smile in his voice, and I guess he's asking for forgiveness. I turn to him.
"I owe you an apology," he continues. "I cannot tell how happy I would be if you were so kind as to accept it. But nonetheless please consider me your friend, a sincere one. Lieutenant Groves told me you're going back to London as soon as possible, but should you need any assistance while in Tortuga, do not hesitate to call upon me."
I smile and make a little embarrassed courtsey. Why, I would like to use the whole Royal Navy, if only there were any chance... but not as Mrs. Somers. What a pity!...
"I reckon it isn't your first visit to Tortuga."
I show him three fingers.
"Ah, the third. I see. Lieutenant Groves told me that your husband had certain... acquaintances there..."
Ah, it's the late Mr. Somers's love affair, I remember. Some abandoned woman in Tortuga seems to have borne the, uhm, fruit of sin and all that. I have to make use of my raisin-scented handkerchief to hide my false tears of false humiliation.
"... and although I have no doubt in your strength and courage, I'd suggest you rely on Lieutenant Groves or me, no matter how delicate the whole case may be."
I give him a look of gratitude, shake my head and smile. I'm a brave little woman, I am. Then I resume watching the waves. No, it's not Mrs. Somers' wish to talk any further about her husband's affair.
A while passes, and we are standing side by side, both bewitched by the night and the lights of the ship's lanterns on the waves. The watch changes; a soldier with a long, good-natured face salutes Gillette and asks for something, trying not to be loud, but he fails and looks at me apologetically. I smile and nod at him. A strange heaviness settles inside me; I hang my head. Maybe I should get some sleep after all.
"I shall not trouble you further, Mrs. Somers," says Gillette, bowing. "Please consider what I said. I would be honored to be of any help to you. If you don't think me worthy, I understand it, and I still remain in hope that you will eventually forgive me my previous rudeness."
He pauses.
"Not very long ago, I was a witness to certain young lady's love affair. The lady in question was - she still is - a fearless, bold, even adventurous young woman. She can speak and stand for herself, which is a rare and admirable thing for her sex. But in order to gain her goal and save her love, many good men lost their lives, the fastest ship of the Navy was destroyed, a criminal's life was spared, and a honest man who was deeply in love with her was hurt so badly he hasn't recovered yet." He becomes silent again, then resumes his speech after a while.
"From that time I'm not particularly well inclined towards courageous young women who fight for their love. They usually talk very much about their feelings, but I cannot help but perceive their words as mere noise. You are different, Mrs. Somers. I don't know much about you, but I feel that what guides your actions is a genuine devotion, which is something more than love. You are calm and selfless; you do not have to speak to justify yourself, your demeanor speaks for you. I am sure no one will try to hurt you on Tortuga; but if anyone does, they'll have to deal with me."
He then wishes me good night and goes away, leaving me with my mouth open in a quite unfeminine way. I don't know if I should curse, laugh, or just roll my eyes. Poor, poor, lonely chap!... What can I say or do? My only excuse is that I can mend some things which Miss Elizabeth and young Turner messed up - namely, Norrington's happiness and Sparrow's punishment. Oh no, wait, that would be Norrington's happiness OR Sparrow's punishment. I can't have both. Hell, I should go to sleep anyway.
When we finally reach Tortuga, I feel like flying. I have to get rid of those women's clothes as quickly as possible, and to go and find Sparrow. The Black Pearl isn't of course in the harbour; seeing that the Navy patrols are quite frequent at the moment, Sparrow probably had his ship careened elsewhere and anchored on the other side of the island.
I promise Groves that we will meet next day in a new inn called Marizapalos. It's relatively small, but prosperous and lively, its clientele mainly fishermen and their women. Despite the name, it's owned by an Englishman, and the only Spaniard there is his wife. The Marizapalos served me as a safe abode when I ran away from Sparrow; nobody remembered me there, so I can walk in wearing my ordinary clothes, with Inci's light-green dress, gloves and kerchiefs in the bundle under my arm. Norrington's pistol finds its usual place, my right hand gets wrapped in a piece of textile. I ask for a room, leave my effects there and get off in search of my one and only friend in Tortuga.
I find her not very far from the barn. I have to be very careful; I don't know where the Black Pearl's crew may be hiding, after all. She's carrying a bucket of water.
"Hey, Antonia! Is that you?"
She gasps, and the silvery liquid splash her tiny brown feet. No harm done, it's hot as hell, as usual. For a moment I almost panic that she may have forgotten me; but no. She carefully places the bucket on the ground and stands with her arms akimbo.
"Ritchie!..."
"You still remember me, my queen?"
"Sure I do," she says. "Did you come to kill Elias?"
"Actually, I have other business here, but yes, I can kill him before leaving."
"All right, you can kill him," she agrees cheerfully. "He's not that bad now, but I don't like him anyway."
"He's nicer to you now?"
"The captain with beads in his beard scared Elias, and he doesn't pinch me. He only kissed me once. But I don't like him."
"Is the beads captain staying in the Tres Morillas?"
"Yes, he likes it here. They sing and dance. Anamaria is very funny, I like her. Do you want to see them?" She smiles at me.
"Uh, well, I do, but not all of them..." I say, scratching my nose.
"They like you. I told the captain that you were afraid of them and you were hiding in the barn. Are you going to go there again? The captain said you can always talk to them, and they want to see you."
She's as reasonable as she can be, apparently trying to reunite all the people she likes. Her black eyes are full of sparks.
"They promised me they won't kill you if you show up here," she adds casually.
"No doubt they won't, but I don't have time to play with all of them now. Listen, Antonia, I have a little favor to ask of you, as before."
"What should I tell them?"
"Not them, only Captain Sparrow, all right?... The rest of them aren't supposed to hear what I want you to tell him."
"All right. What is this? Is it for me?"
I squat down.
"It's a Chinese coin," I say.
"Oh, it's funny."
It's one of Gibbs' trinkets. I took it off his neck when Inci and me carried him to the basement. I wonder where he got it from. Maybe from Little Chen, maybe from Sparrow, who has been to Singapore.
"Do you remember Mr Gibbs, Antonia?... The big man with the round face and the grey beard. The one that went to Port Royal."
"He went to Port Royal to see his sister."
"You're right, my queen. Give the coin to Captain Sparrow, but not now - in the evening. Give him the coin and tell him that Ritchie Brown wants to talk to him about Mr Gibbs."
Antonia looks up at me, narrowing her eyes. They are big, dark and wise.
"Where can he find you?"
"In the Marizapalos. Oh, and he is to come alone, or I'm not going to meet him."
I have her repeat what she is to tell Sparrow, and go to wander the streets. It's better not to go back to the inn before sunset. I can't eat, maybe due to the heat... or maybe I just remember too well what my Captain always told us: no eating before battle. I cannot be sure if there's not going to be some fighting, and nothing is nastier than a belly wound when you've stuffed said belly before getting said wound.
Finally the evening comes, and I'm sitting in the corner of the Marizapalos, watching the door, with a glass of wine - just for a decorum - before me and with my right hand on Norrington's pistol. The inn is slowly filling up, petty thieves in reed hats, girls in rags and smelly fishermen are chatting amiably, treading the freshly-sanded floor. I'm patiently waiting, with my mouth dry and all my senses strained - only to see Groves in civilian clothes making his way through the crowd which is getting more and more dense. He's looking for me, it's clear.
"What the hell are you doing here, officer?"
"I thought... I have to talk to you," he demands, his hands on the table. Luckily, he doesn't sit down.
"Not now, love. I'm waiting for someone."
"Your informer?"
"Aye, my informer. Go away, Theodore. She's very shy and easy to intimidate. Oh, and she likes handsome men. You stay and there's no conversation, with her staring at you all the time."
He closes his eyes and sighs, then rounds the table and comes to sit next to me.
"You're going to meet Sparrow here, aren't you?... Just tell me the truth."
I narrow my eyes.
"Where the hell did you get that from?..."
He embraces me with his left hand.
"I'm sorry, Ritchie," he whispers. "I'm really sorry."
The next moment... there's no next moment. Or wait, there is. It's glaringly white.
... And when I open my eyes again, I'm sure some time must have passed. I don't know how much, I don't know why. The only thing I am sure of is that everything's gone, and the white color I saw before losing consciousness was probably the last bright thing in my life.
Now my world is narrow, dark, foggy, painful and nauseous. The pain and nausea seem to be inseparable. What the hell is this?... Sure, I've been hit and wounded before, but this time... this time it's something new. I can't move my legs, I can't move my fingers, I can't even blink without that awful, heavy pain; and my stomach is leaping up and down like a baby goat. Oh, I want to puke - but I can't. I can't even breathe deeply. Oh God, what is this?...
No, no, calm down, Ritchie, God's not going to help you, if you don't try. I concentrate on my eyes; I close them and open, close them and open again. Good. After a few times I can do it without going mad with nausea. Then I try with my fingers; I can move them too. Ah, now that I've calmed down a bit, I feel that my body is still working. I'm just bound hand and foot. Well, no surprise there. But where am I?
I open my eyes as wide as I can. There is a wooden ceiling above me, no doubt. I'm lying on some bed. Is this the Marizapalos?... I can't see anything, so I try to move my head and I can't help hissing, for it hurts like a bastard. I succeed, though: there is someone sitting next to my bed. It's dark in here, but after a while I can make out a slender man with his legs casually crossed, his long hair hanging loose over his shoulders and gold shining in his smile.
"Good morning to you, Ritchie Brown," says Jack Sparrow.
tbc