"Why is he closed? He's never closed!" Sparrow protested loudly, rattling at the locked door. "Levrett, Levrett!"
"Jack." Ana sighed heavily. The harbor was still silent and mistly, we seemed to be the only people about. The ship yard of 'Levrett Scrivner – ships fitted out, carrened and repaired.' Was clearly closed. Only sparrow never quiet, never still, disturbed the sleepy scene. "Jack, he's not…"
"Waddayawant, yer limey…." The head the screeched at us from a chink in the door looked as wrinkled and dark as the barrel of apples on the Pearl. "…Jack! Come in, come in. And Gibbs! Anamaria! And…" His eyes rested on me, and narrowed slightly, furrowing even more wrinkles. "..And who be this?"
"She's with me." Both Ana and Sparrow spoke at once.
I gave Sparrow a curious glance, but he was preoccupied with a smut on his jacket sleeve and a sudden troublesome cough.
"I am Catherine Barbrook, daughter of Charles and Kathleen Barbrook, of Bridgetown, Barbados." I spoke firmly, trying to meet the shifty eyes of this sprightly man. But it was to Sparrow he spoke.
"Can she be trusted?" Sparrow looked up sharply, his pirate eyes wide and innocent.
"Yes, she can!" It was Anamaria who answered, pushing past her captain. "Levrett, we were caught in that storm, two days back. The mizzen's split and the foremast near useless. We're taking on a powerful amount of water, but I can't rightly tell how bad the damage below water. How soon can you dry-dock us?" Under Ana's diamond hard glare, the man shuffled fully out from behind his door.
"Well, Hancy's at sea this moment, I'd have to get hold of Crookie and Israil…" Levrett leaned back against the wall, eyes half-closed in calculation "…How's noon?"
"Noon?" Ana muttered some words in French before replying "Noon. Right." The man twisted like a fish under the Quartermasters eyes.
"Will you not take some breakfast, then?"
I sat at a rickety table, in a kitchen smaller than the Pearl's galley, trying to ascertain whether it would be prudent to spoon the grey, lumpy porridge out under the table when Levrett looked away. Sparrow and Ana seemed to be having similar problems, though Gibbs was tucking in enthusiastically.
"I remember a time you used to eat beef for every meal." Muttered Sparrow, letting his porridge fall from his spoon back into his bowl, it dropped with a thump.
"Well…" Levrett took a deep breath between spoonfuls. "Business ain't what it was. Bastard Navy. Ships don't need repairing any more. Not unless you know how to raise wrecks?" he gave a short, humorless laugh, spluttering out porridge. "Maybe I should switch to coffin-making. Money just isn't there. Ain't here no more either, come to that." He gave a wide gesture to indicate the whole town, and pushed back his bowl. Sparrow leaned forward in amazement, even tipped the bowl to make sure it was empty. "Reckon it's time to move on. Though I don't reckon where. Port Royal was dead long ago, Nassau's gone straight. Surprised to see you still about, if I'm honest Jack."
"Aye, well." Sparrow dropped the bowl and sat back slowly. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?"
"And I'm the queen of France." Ana stood up decisively. "And if we can't dock until noon, then you Jack, need to see a man about a ship."
Ana glared daggers at the unflappable man, who met her gaze steadily, with a languorous grin. They both jumped at a sudden belch.
"What?" Gibbs rounded jowls turned pink. "Better out than in, says I."
We set off in the direction of the Pearl. There were now some men about on the harbor, but they didn't seem to be doing much beyond milling around and chatting.
"Catherine." Ana grabbed my hand and stood back from Sparrow and Gibbs. "Come on, leave them to it." I looked at the two rapidly disappearing figures.
"Won't they mind?"
"Jack will understand."
Ana kept hold of my hand as we walked through the streets. The houses and taverns were small and cramped together, but no worse than some of the darker areas of Bridgetown. There was a preponderance of inns, and shops selling basic provisions and nautical equipment, and very little in the way of private houses. Soon the buildings spaced out and fell away.
On the rocky, hilly land above the town, there was a small house, with a large fenced garden. And in the garden were… it was only then I noticed the small, stumpy steeple.
"There's a church in Tortuga?" I asked incredulously.
"The most pious in the Spanish Main." Ana replied firmly, as she opened the gate, it creaked. "there's something I want to show you."
Marieé Affranchi
Died 12th August 1723
"Liberté donnes vous vie"
I knelt down by the grave, and ran my hand over the engraved letters.
"Freedom gives you life?"
Ana gave a shy little smile.
"Not that fitting for a headstone perhaps, but mere would have liked it." Ana smoothed down the damp grass, and ran her hands over a dead, wilting bouquet of flowers. "I paid for this headstone. When I got back here they'd buried her under a wooden cross!" She sighed, and I tried not to notice her eyes welling up. "I couldn't give her the life she deserved, but I'd sure as hell give her a stone grave."
"It's beautiful Ana." It was only then I realized I too was fighting back the tears.
"Took me three months to get it engraved. Each voyage I would come back and pay the engraver for another word. Craftsmen make a killing on Tortuga, no honest bugger'd work for us, so they can charge what they like." She picked off some lichen and repeated; "Three months, but I did it."
We knelt, facing each other across the grave, one dress and one pair of breeches soaking up the morning dew. Though cagy about Sparrow, there were times when Ana was so open and honest with me, it was unnerving. At that time I still was not used to it, and struggled for something to say. Something to show I appreciated her sharing this piece of past with me.
I failed, the moment of closeness went, and Ana's face held it's customary coolness by the time I unstuck my mouth to say;
"I didn't know she lived on Tortuga."
"Pirate, whores and slaves." Ana shrugged as she stood, brushing loose grass and dirt from her knees. "Only place I know of where the folks don't judge."
"You talk like its utopia." I said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
"Aye, mayhap." From the vantage point of the graveyard she looked down over the town; low dark buildings sulkily huddled in a cleft of rock.