A/N: I'm SO sorry for the delay. What can I say? I hope you haven't forgotten me...
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VI
"Oh, good morning to you, Captain," I answer gallantly.
Sparrow bursts out laughing.
"So now I'm your Captain, at last," he says. "What an honor to me!... Should be grateful to the rope, I s'ppose."
"If you must resort to the rope to make people pay respect to you..."
"Ah, but to be quite honest with ye, Ritchie, the whole rope thing ain't that much about respect. It's about cooperation."
I close my eyes. I don't have much wit or strength left to deal with jokes, wordplays, allusions and traps. My whole body is aching, my mouth is dry, a garrison of devils is dancing inside my head. I have lost the game. Inci's fearful face appears before me - "I told you not to mess with Sparrow" - and only now I can clearly see how self-conceited, vain and stupid I have been.
I open my eyes to look at Sparrow. He's watching me with that knowing grin of his, just waiting. A few men are standing behind him, quiet and sinister. I can make out Little Chen's bald head, Cotton's bandana, Victor's old cloak... it seems that the whole crew of the Pearl has gathered at the Marizapalos. My hands slowly grow cold. If these simpletons get into their heads that I've hurt their precious uncle Gibbs, they'll kill me even without Sparrow's orders.
Anamaria, standing by her captain's side with her hand on the pistol, tries not to look at me, but her hatred is stronger than her will, and her eyes assure me that she'd probably be the first to shoot. A dense face with bright eyes is looming over her shoulder; only after some time do I recognize that it belongs to Groves. Helpless fury and shame are rising inside me, and it takes all my will to stay calm. Is it my fate to die like an idiot?... There's got to be a way out of this!...
Then I suddenly realize that I still have the card named Gibbs, and I simply cannot give that card away. I can't let the Pearl's new captain and crew near Inci now, whatever the cost.
"Cooperation, huh," I say slowly, looking at my tied-up hands.
Sparrow casts his eyes down in quite a hypocritical manner. It really becomes him.
"No, don't ye even think about it."
"Come on, you have all your men with you here." I try to raise my head, but the nausea doesn't let me; there is also that little matter of my bloodied hair, stuck firmly to the pillow. "And I'm trussed up nicely anyway."
"You're reading me wrong again, Ritchie. It's not for our safety, it's for our pleasure that you're to stay just like that."
I'm about to say something dirty, but the next wave of pain breaks inside my head, and I have to close my eyes again. Nobody laughs. They don't want to laugh at me, they want me dead. So after the pain ceases I just look at Sparrow wordlessly.
"Very good." He is still on his guard, but there's a dry, cruel spark of triumph in his eyes. "It seems you at last understood our... let's call it mutual agreement."
"Alright, name your terms," I say with a heavy sigh.
"Aye, let's get everythin' clear." He leans his hands on his knees. "First, tell me where Gibbs is."
I raise my brows, waiting. But he's not going to proceed, he's waiting for me too. His black eyes are so deep that his face seems pale and smooth; he stares at me in demanding silence. No, I bloody can't believe it. He's so obviously, so brazenly convinced that I'll tell him all about Gibbs' fate just like that!... No, Jack Sparrow, 'tis not going to be easy for me, and not for you either.
"That's it?... That's all you want to know?..."
"No, that's what you wanted to talk about, innit?... You came a long way from Port Royal only to tell me about Gibbs. My men have been bored, of late, so we all gathered here to listen to your story."
"Whatever takes your fancy, Captain," I say, "but you see, somebody hit me on the head, and I've forgotten everything."
We're smiling at each other, flat silence is settling in the room. All I can hear is a fly buzzing at the window, and a woman's voice outside: "Antonia, Rico, vamos a cenar." I recognize that voice, it's Monica, Antonia's mother... but she is working at Tres Morillas, not at the Marizapalos!... Wait...
A sudden pain in my tied-up wrists remind me that I'm not free and I can't see where I am, no matter how I struggle; then the nausea seems to turn my stomach inside out.
"Oh, stop it, luv," I hear Sparrow's voice somewhere above my head, "you'd better lie still, 'tis dangerous to wriggle like that in your condition, you may get hurt again... Why, I'm not cruel, I can help ye satisfy yer curiosity; you guessed it right, we're at Tres Morillas."
Finally I manage to catch my breath; it's a pity that I can't throw up. My eyes are full of tears, my head aches so badly that I hear a constant, dull beat of a hammer inside my skull. What the blazes is happening to me?... I've never felt so pathetically sick... But I still can count on my anger, and in all my despair and pain I know one thing for sure: I'd rather die than tell them about Gibbs and Inci.
"So, let's go back to our little talk," Sparrow continues, observing me keenly. "It's up to you. Play nice an' it's not gonna cost you more than you can pay."
"And how much would it be?"
"Well, 'tis the whole course, Ritchie, and Gibbs is jus' the appetizer. The bill comes at the end."
I look innocently at him, at Anamaria, who's succeeded at last in fixing her gaze on the wall, at Groves biting his lips, then at Sparrow again.
"Told you already I don't remember anything."
He sighs and stretches lazily, as if prepared for my answer.
"I'm sure it can be helped," he says, throwing Anamaria a meaningful gaze. "Go an' tell Elias we're gonna need the basement, to cure poor Ritchie's memory."
"Wait," Groves cuts in. "What are you going to do?..."
Sparrow doesn't even look at him; it's Anamaria who answers with a malicious smile:
"You try to guess, officer."
"It was by no means part of our agreement, Jack."
Anamaria chuckles, Sparrow rolls his eyes.
"Of course it was, luv. We we agreed that I'd be asking him a few questions."
"It seems that 'asking a few questions' bears different meaning for the two of us," says Groves through gritted teeth.
Sparrow's smile vanishes from his face in an instant; he rises from his chair, slow and languid.
"And how do you propose we treat him, Lieutenant?" he hisses, stepping so close to Groves that he nearly touches him. "Fed him roasted fowl and lay him on a bed of roses?..."
Groves blushes, then pales again. It might be fun to watch him, were I in a different situation.
"He's Barbossa's lapdog and he's goin' to bite long after his master is dead."
"I told you I don't believe it, Jack."
"Didn't you watch yer friends killed and wounded that night in Port Royal?... Didn't you watch yer men killed and wounded that night near Isla de Muerte?... Didn't you watch the city burn?... In case you've forgotten, I'd be glad to remind ye that it was his dear captain who did it all. As for us - we don't care for yer lil' town or for the Navy, but we want Gibbs back. An' we will get him back." He turns to Anamaria. "Where's Elias?"
"He's gone to town," she answers. Fat Paco spits on the floor and comes closer.
"Ne'er mind, Captain, we'll get the work done," he says. "Let's take him to the cellar. He won't stand much pain, he's weak as a kitten."
"Elias wanted to do it," somebody reminds from behind. "An' he had it promised. Ye know, his brother..."
"No time for family matters, you morons," Anamaria calls out. "Let's do it quick."
Groves turns to Sparrow.
"I want to talk to him. Now," he demands.
I feel nauseous and start coughing. These who are free (that is all except me) are gesturing fervently and moving closer to my bed; and everybody begins yelling.
"That's what comes from parleyin' with them Navy officers!" (Anamaria. Brave girl.)
"If yer so delicate, ye can stay upstairs!" (Victor. I'm impressed, he can talk quite clearly when upset.)
"Gibbs is waiting for us! We gotta save him!" (Little Chen. Poor bastard, he wants his pirate family back.)
"All I want is a few words with Ritchie!" (Groves. A few words. Right.)
"So yer goin' to make him speak, eh, mister officer?" (Fat Paco. Did I kill his aunt or something?)
"Don't let the Lieutenant near him!" (Whoever said that... yes, please don't.)
Sparrow doesn't say anything, he's watching Groves thoughtfully. Anamaria notices that and barks at the rest:
"Hey, quiet, ye lot! It's Captain who's to decide!..."
It's the first time I hear her call Sparrow "Captain". She's definitely the cleverest of the lot. If she knew more about sailing, she'd probably lead the second mutiny.
"Step away, Theodore," Sparrow says slowly. His hand wanders casually towards his pistol. "'Tis none of yer business. We'll settle things in our own manner."
"Jack, I cannot let you torture a wounded man."
Thus my patience ends. In a flash of fury I forget the pain in my head, my nausea, my thirst, my fear.
"Oh, shut up, shut up, you bloody hypocrite! Sparrow, for God's sake, get him out of here!..."
The crew are looking at me agape, Groves' face changes its color from white to red. Sparrow grins broadly, sways over to Groves and pats him on the shoulder.
"How sad, Theodore, yer kindness isn't appreciated. Pearls before swine. Or it may be that he's found his memory, huh, Ritchie?... Maybe you've remembered where Gibbs is, eh?"
"Go check your hair, Captain," I suggest, "you've got plenty of things in there, and some of 'em are alive: maybe Gibbs is in there somewhere too."
Sparrow chuckles.
"See, he's alright," he says to Groves, "and gettin' better with every second. Don't worry, it won't be long until we reach a conclusion. Go and play with little Antonia or somethin'."
"Yeah, and don't forget to drink your milk, little Theodore."
"Save yer spit for later, ye mouthy bastard, yer gonna need it," Anamaria snaps at me.
Groves steps forward and looks around surprisingly coolly.
"I'm not going anywhere," he says to nobody in particular. "I helped you and maybe I can help you again, but I want a few words with him first. It won't take long. Captain Sparrow can stay with me, and here's a little for everybody who'd like to refresh themselves." And he places a few coins on a small table near the window.
The poor buggers look at each other, suddenly at a loss. Sparrow tilts his head and smiles, still watching Groves. Then his eyes go to me, then to Groves again.
"Fair enough," he says, "a few words won't do no harm. Anamaria, Little Chen, ye two stay outside at the door. The rest of ye may go and fetch yerselves a drink."
I close my eyes, listening to the shuffle of the feet. Well, it's not bad to be rid of the Pearl's crew for a while, but it's not good to be left with their captain and Groves, not good at all.
"I just wanted to know something."
Groves' voice is quiet, but distinct. It's as if he had been blind until now, and then suddenly regained his sight and tried to recognize the new world around him.
"Ritchie, I understand very well that you don't want to talk to me. I just wanted to explain a few things. As for now I'm not sure if I owe you any explanation, but here it is. I do not think that Captain Sparrow deserves arrest. I do not think he deserves to be hanged. I do not want Commodore Norrington to have to issue a death warrant. I do not want to assist you in soiling Norrington's hands. And... although you may call me a hypocrite, as I've become a kind of traitor myself, I still detest traitors and spies, especially those who send others to their deaths. Since our first encounter I've considered you a traitor to your own brethren. I know you've no sense of honor, no sense of duty, no magnanimity nor pride; but against my better judgement I pitied you and I wished you well. And you fooled me. You told me you hated Barbossa, you told me you were helping the law to hunt the likes of him. You didn't tell me it was Sparrow you wanted arrested. I thought he was your friend, since he's Barbossa's foe. I thought you respected and admired him, the way not only pirates do, but commoners as well."
I'm looking at him with my eyes wide open. So that's it!... The boy fell for Sparrow the very moment he saw him stealing the Interceptor with Bootstrap's son. He fell for that cursed grace and wit, which allowed Sparrow to sail away on a Navy ship without shooting a single man. He fell for this light smile and lean body, for this carelessness and intelligence behind a fool's mask. He fell for Sparrow just like Norrington did. But unlike Norrington, he had no qualms about contenting himself with me, and unlike Norrington, he still considers himself morally superior to me... and probably to Sparrow too.
"You lied to me."
Sparrow, who is sitting in the corner and rocking impatiently in his chair, sighs heavily.
"When will you decent folk learn?..." he murmurs. "Sure he lied to you, you had him at gunpoint. It's either be shot or cheat. Ye can't blame him for that. I'd do the same. An' frankly speakin', Theodore, yer wasting our precious time. He won't feel sorry jus' because yer preachin' to him now."
"I don't give a damn if he feels sorry or not," Groves answers through gritted teeth.
"Alright, it's about you feelin' sorry for him, right?... Well, for all we know he could be a Navy informer. Maybe he didn't lie to you at all."
Groves shakes his head. His eyes are full of hurt and sadness, and he reminds me of a priest talking to a convict before sending him to the gallows.
"And again, it's not what I'd like to know." He bows over me. "Ritchie, it doesn't matter if you're a Navy informer or not. But it seems you're playing your own game with us all. You know that Commodore Norrington is concerned about the remnants of Barbossa's crew. Some of them were reportedly seen on the Leeward Islands. Yet you came to Tortuga. You're after Sparrow, not after your former mates. Is there any truth in what he's just said?..."
My headache grows stronger, my vision becomes blurred for a moment, and I feel lost in all these well-rounded words. What on earth does he want from me, and who said what about what?...
"Hey, mate," I hear Sparrow's voice somewhere near Groves' head, "wait, you're losing him. Ritchie, move yer head up a little."
The mug is dirty, the water is tepid, but I'm afraid they'd take it away, so I gulp it down in no time, only to feel my stomach jump once again. Oh, no, I can't throw up now, I need that water, God only knows when I'm going to drink anything again.
"I'll make Little Chen bring us fresh water. What a damned hot day!... You'd better ask that one question, Theodore, an' do it fast. We won't be nursing him here more than necessary."
There is the sound of Sparrow's steps across the room and of the door cracking open. Groves looks back, then quickly grabs my shoulders and shakes me impatiently.
"Ritchie, do you hear me?..."
"Aye, I hear you," I answer sleepily. "Whaddya want?..."
Surprisingly enough, Groves' hands are torn off me in a moment. Damn that Sparrow's sneakiness.
"Hold it, luv, don't be rough," he says, "or else we'll just take him to the cellar. No?... Of course not, but ye haven't even asked him anythin'."
Groves blinks, turning to him.
"In a word, Ritchie," Sparrow continues, "he wants to know if yer, as I've put it, Barbossa's lapdog or not. That's what bothers him most. Apparently, he believed ye when ye told him how much ye hate yer beloved Captain."
Ah, that one. So the poor Lieutenant doesn't want to believe Sparrow, even if he is no longer able to believe me. But what difference would my confession make now?... There must be something I'm missing here. Since when are Norrington's men so scrupulously searching for my Captain's former crew? Why should they suddenly pose a bigger threat than Sparrow?... I've heard most of them were hanged. Even if Bo'sun has been hiding on Martinique, he alone can't be dangerous.
So he isn't alone. It's not him and not the crew the Navy is hunting. It's not the hyenas and jackals like me, it's the lion they are after.
I cannot help grinning slowly as I watch Groves clenching his fists.
"So that's it," he groans. "You are still loyal to Barbossa and you always were."
"God bless you, Lieutenant," I say, "there are only two men who betrayed him, Sparrow and Bootstrap, and it's very bad company to be in, if you ask me."
"I should have known better. I should have told Commodore Norrington. You dirty ungrateful bastard!..."
"Now stop it, luv," Sparrow chuckles, catching his hand, "I can't let ye beat a wounded man, remember."
"For God's sake, Jack, he's used us all!... I made the Royal Navy smuggle him out to Tortuga! He caught Gibbs and was about to catch you in his trap, all with the Navy's help!... Barbossa's men must already be alert that we're looking for them. And he's blackmailing Commodore Norrington..."
"Aye, sure, and it was me who gave the apple to Eve in Paradise..."
"He's blackmailing Norrington?... How'd ye know?" Sparrow asks him, frowning suspiciously.
"I-I don't know for sure, but there's something between them," says Groves helplessly, holding his head in both hands. "Oh God, what did I do?... Oh God... I feel sick."
Sparrow watches him, narrowing his eyes.
"What the hell are you talking about, Theodore?... Sick? Pull yerself together!... Ye did nothin' bad. I'm not goin' to threaten yer little town. I'm goin' to Cancun as soon as I get Gibbs back. I'm at war with the Spanish, actually, an' with my old enemies as well. And I think I can help your Commodore in his war with Barbossa." He throws me a glance, then looks at the door. "I wonder what's taking Little Chen so long," he adds, but he doesn't move; he's afraid to leave us alone.
"Just in case you haven't learned it yet, it's not good to socialize with pirates," I say to Groves. "You can't trust them either way. You don't trust ME any more, that's the first step, but now stop listening to Sparrow and go back to your friend Gillette, or you're going to regret this. Be a nice boy and go away, Theodore."
"Don't call me by my Christian name!" Groves snaps at me.
"Oooh, don't break my heart, sweetie," I say.
"I should've shot you that morning." He's almost shaking with hatred. "I spared your life. I wished you well. I tried to help you. I didn't want you to be a traitor to your brethren, but I pitied you and I despised your captain for what he did to you. And you betrayed me."
"Who betrayed whom!" I yell. "I didn't betray you, I only lied to you and that's a damn big difference!... It's you who sold me to Sparrow because of your delicate feelings!... Now let me put it straight, Lieutenant Groves, what I did for Barbossa, I did because I wanted to, not because he forced me. And if he's alive -"
"Now you're pretending you don't know!..."
"Leave it to us, Theodore," says Sparrow, dragging Groves away again. "We'll find out everythin' we need. But the most important thing now is Gibbs."
"Listen, Jack, he told me once about some girl he's visiting. A girl at the harbor."
Sparrow rolls his eyes.
"Aye, sure, a girl. What did he tell you at the Marizapalos?... That he was goin' to meet a girl, right?..."
"But still I think there was a girl in Port Royal. I can remember he smelled of perfume sometimes."
Sparrow scratches his nose, looking at me and then, quite curiously, at Groves.
"Uh... Theodore, don't take me wrong, jus' out of sheer interest... what exactly did he do to make you trust him?..."
Groves blushes; his lips are pressed into a thin line.
"Awww, I guess I know," says Sparrow, averting his eyes, "but whatever, mate. Ye want to talk to him some more?... No?... Then go outside an' wait a little, an' we'll ask Ritchie some questions in our own way."
He heads to the door, but Groves stops him.
"No, Jack, wait," he says firmly. "I want to be present."
Sparrow raises his brows, and for a moment a slightly disgusted look appears on his face.
"As ye wish, mate," he says plainly.
I close my eyes and try to breathe regularly, despite the wild, desperate heartbeat and the nausea which comes slowly back, only much more powerful. I'm thinking of Inci again. I recall her delicate, pathetic little figure with the grotesquely big belly, I see her restless dark eyes, I hear her trembling voice - "I told you not to mess with Sparrow"...
A sudden cry downstairs wakes me up like a slap. The whole shack is trembling as if it were to collapse; it seems that a huge group of men have entered Las Morillas at once. And they're not fishermen nor the harbour folk; I recognize the sound of solid, iron-clad boots, and the sound of weapons. It can mean only one thing.
I have to get out of here, God, please, I really, really have to... But how? The rope is hellishly tight, and I have no strength at all. Every move costs me blinding pain, and finally I feel so sick I have to stop and press my face to the pillow to stop myself from puking. Bloody hell. What is going on with me?... I don't think my head is broken, but...
"Captain! Run away, it's a trap!..."
It's Anamaria's voice, high and sharp. A pistol shot - not one, two - follow. I raise my head, and Groves rushes to the half-open door, only to withdraw back very slowly. I don't even have time to think what to try next. The room fills with red-jacketed Navy Marines.
Gillette is leading them, his round face all sweaty, his wig a bit askance, his nostrils wider than ever. I can see passion, zeal and battle-fever in his eyes. Two of his soldiers are dragging Sparrow with them, and I gasp. Is it possible that it was Groves who outwitted us all: Sparrow, Norrington and me?...
No, it isn't Groves. There is a look of such genuine terror on his tanned face that it seems almost gray. He's watching the group Ð the two soldiers and the pirate - in a stupor. I narrow my eyes and notice a ruddy stain on the uniform of one of the soldiers, then I look at Sparrow's waxen face and bitten lips. He's been shot. Blood is trickling down his right sleeve; his fingers are caked with it.
"Lieutenant Groves," says Gillette, gesturing to the rest of the soldiers with his still smoking pistol, "you're under arrest."
"Lieutenant Gillette, I can explain it, I..." begins Groves, his voice shaking oh so slightly.
"I'm sure you can explain everything, officer," Gillette cuts him coolly and officially. "I was surprised to discover that your recent extravagant conduct when on duty had all to do with your piratey acquaintances and nothing with the lovely Mrs Somers you were so kind to assist recently... by the way, where is she?..."
Our Father, who art in Heaven... Sub tuum praesidium... oh, to hell with that. No prayer in this world is going to save me now.
"If you distrusted me so much as to have me followed, you surely know where she is," answers Groves bitterly.
"I have concerns much more important than spying on a pretty young widow," retorts Gillette, "although I must say I'm a little bit worried about her fate. She seemed quite brave, but a place like Tortuga is dangerous... and I hoped you'd help her instead of fraternizing with pirates."
"If ye please, Lieutenant Gillette, sir..."
Sparrow's voice is more slurred than usual, and it's lost most of its previous briskness, but its soft charm and self-confidence makes everybody turn their head. Sparrow smiles slowly, his eyes are almost shut, his head tilted back. He's losing blood very fast.
"Ye say yer Mrs Somers came to Tortuga on the same ship as Lieutenant Groves, aye?... Well, then I think I know where she is."
"What did you do to her, you scoundrel?..."
"Nothin' yet."
"Where is she?"
"Over there, on the bed," says Sparrow, pointing royally towards me.
Gillette turns to look at the bed with a gasp of horror, which is swiftly changed into a gasp of dismay. Groves hides his face in his hands.
"I was so sure I'd seen you somewhere, Mrs Somers," says Gillette, raising his brows. "Now I remember... and to think that I was trying to recall all the ladies who came after their husbands to Port Royal... chapeau-bas, Ritchie Brown."
"Oh... have we met before, Lieutenant?"
"Quite some time ago, in the Red Stocking," he answers. "You were having a conversation with Commodore Norrington. Drunken as I was, I didn't forget you, neither your face nor your name."
Ah. So in fact it was him, not Groves, who was watching me and Norrington that night. I cast down my eyes modestly; there is nothing witty I can say.
"Lieutenant Gillette, sir," whispers some young soldier, "Captain Sparrow... I mean Sparrow, sir... I think he needs a doctor."
Sparrow is indeed very pale and trembling; he's probably cold from the loss of blood. His eyes are shut now.
"Sit him here on the chair and try to staunch the blood."
"Why did you shoot him?" asks Groves quietly.
"He had his pistol ready. The rest managed to escape, unfortunately." Gillette frowns. "Don't ask me any more questions, Lieutenant. I remind you you're under arrest. Sergeant, take Lieutenant Groves' weapons."
Sparrow is quite alert during the whole procedure. They put a temporary dressing on his shoulder wound and take him off the chair. Then at Gillette's orders one of the soldiers cut my bonds, and another nudges me to get me up. The problem is that I can't even sit straight, let alone stand up.
"We're going to the ships now," Gillette says. "It's a pity that the rest of the Black Pearl's crew weren't caught, but I dearly hope Commodore Norrington will be contented with the captain. And Mrs Somers. What's wrong with you, pirate? Move on, we're not leaving you here."
I bit my lip. Oh no, it can't be... but the only thing I succeed in doing is tearing my hair off the pillow. Then I try to sit up, leaning on my hands, but my head spins around, my stomach leaps up, and I spew all the water I've drunk over the soldier's leather boots.
"Oh, damn you," he says and slaps me. Uh, Ritchie, welcome back to your regular pirate life.
Gillette sighs.
"It seems he can't make it alone," he concludes. "You two, help him downstairs. Sergeant, take two men and borrow a cart with a mule or something, we can't be walking to the harbor with them."
The way to the harbor was very short to me. Maybe it was long, though, I don't know. I blacked out; I think that Sparrow did too. I regain consciousness at the smell of bilgewater, rotting wood and mold; I watch as the soldiers open the brig and let Sparrow walk in first; then I'm pushed inside.
Gillette is watching us from the top of the stairs. I don't know where Groves is; arrested or not, apparently his mate doesn't want him to spend his hours with Sparrow and me.
"Lieutenant Gillette, sir," says one of the soldiers shyly, "maybe we should keep these two apart?..."
"You're afraid that they'll murder one another, is that so?..." Gillette smiles at him. "Well, it may save us some trouble, after all."
Before they close the door at the end of the stairs, I manage to catch the cold glow of Sparrow's eyes in the dark.