Jack leant against a stone wall in the shadows. He breathed outwards slowly. It was getting late and the night mistress was beginning to light the night sky. The bangs of gun shots cracked occasionally like fireworks and as he looked up he saw each star and each star was like a single bullet hole in this town. The smell of urine greeted his nostrils and no doubt his shoes and he thought of all the shady deals and gambling that would be occurring inside the wall he was leaning on.
How he loved this town.
He sighed again and closed his eyes. Cora was right, no one had heard of this man and those who had mot definitely weren't willing to part with that information. Force may have been necessary in some cases but ever since he attacked Silas Jenkins' ship he found it hard to bring himself to slaughtering anyone lest he enrage someone, the last thing he needed now was more vendettas against him.
"So the news in the letter did shake you up a bit jack?" A voice in his head said.
He paused and decided to admit to himself the reality. "Anything she writes stirs me." Jack said mentally. He closed his eyes and thought of the last time they met. The last voyage they had sailed together. He closed his eyes and remembered warmth, her smile, her... But it had to stop. He was Captain Jack Sparrow! He'd said it so many times that it was becoming a ritual so he could do it again now. It was an annoyance when he was with other woman, with his crew, with anyone…
"I will tear up any letter I get from her ever again."
"Will you really?" The voice said, taunting Jack with the truth.
"Yes." Jack said with conviction. Well, some conviction. "And I also vow to stop talking to myself." He said out loud and a passer by glanced at him but didn't look surprised. Madness was not a rarity in this town.
It killed him that it bothered him so much but he knew not having her killed him even more. But it had to end and he knew it more than anyone who had ever told him that. If they ever met again he would not acknowledge her, or kill her, an option he knew in his current state was a bleak one. "Well, she's tried to knock you down a couple of times Jacky boy," he thought. But all was fair in love and war and when the latter was removed, then the other option was a necessity. He cursed this new found vulnerability and himself for loitering.
He pushed himself off the wall and strolled casually up St. Johns Street. In his current state, he knew it was best to retain his usual drunken, charming self; the self that people knew in this town and an easily frightened Jack was a dead Jack. He walked passed the usual shops with broken windows, pubs and taverns and brothels and was amazed to see a book shop whose windows had not been touched or the appearance been scored. It would have been a young scallywags dream to make that shop look like any other in this town but it was inconspicuously placed round a corner and hidden from view. Jack was always one to have a sharp eye and the average dwellers in Tortugas eyes were usually starry at this time of night so he did not worry for the safety of the shop.
'Farnborough's' it was called and Jack made a mental note to return there whilst he stayed here. Book shops were few and far between and Jack never liked to admit it but he liked some light reading on the ship but his book collections were limited and usually used for foot stools if he was honest.
A woman suddenly left the shop with a meagre shawl gathered round her simple, faded blue dress that once would have been quite pleasant to the eye but now looked like it had been worn one too many times. She looked modest and out of place as her brown boots hit the cobbled pavement. She suddenly stopped and looked up and down the street. Her face was filled with worry and it was obvious she had been crying and looked like she was now if Jack's eyes didn't deceive him. She looked very odd, as if once she would have been very respectable but now, with dirt on her face, untamed hair and her overall unkempt appearance she looked like a doll that had been scuffed up. No, she didn't look like a doll, a rag doll perhaps but comments like that, Jack had learnt, did not bode well with women. She decided to walk up the street and gently pushed passed Jack. As she walked away Jack thought, "who does her face remind me of?" He mused on this but decided to leave it. A familiar face, crying women, a man who talked to himself: all everyday things in Tortuga.
He continued down the street and decided to return to his tavern and get some shut eye. He had only been here three days and no avail.
"Well, if this man wants to kill me, he can! But he aint' getting the Pearl!" Jack suddenly declared aloud and three drinkers on a corner turned to look at him.
He really should stop doing that.
Josephine took another break against a wall and breathed out slowly. She had decided to make quick breaks of running from wall to wall and then hiding behind a dark corner. This was only her third break so far and she was petrified. It was getting later and she could hear and see gun shots. The putrid smell of urine was everywhere and she picked up her skirt further so as not to get the disgusting liquids on the floor near her person. She shook as she thought of the murders and rapes that could be taking place inside the very building she rested against.
How she hated this town.
She had decided to leave the bookshop briefly after Peter had left. She had quickly grabbed her shawl and some coins, the last remaining coins in her collection. She usually was the type of person to give up after a fight and sulk, but this, this was something she could not sit and stew about. She had to find her brother. He didn't seem to realise that without him, she would have to find food for herself and financially depend on just the bookshop. He must be suffering from sickness! Or this is the work of someone else. The latter was the option that Josephine thought to be most accurate. She would search every tavern in this town if she had to and had to she did.
What scared her most was life without Peter. They didn't get on particularly well; in fact, she had despised him for some years before they came out the Caribbean. She always called him a 'mollie' as he never had the gall to stand up to their father, and he always used to call her a 'book worm' or 'old maid' as they both knew that Josephine would never get married. But as soon as they fled for the Caribbean their relationship became more of a dependency and it grew into sibling love, eventually. Josephine thought of the hunger on the ship and Peter's willingness to sacrifice himself over her on some occasions. This softened her and as soon as they arrived here they thought that life would get better, but it was every next day that would get better. Never mind! We will make more tomorrow. Oh well! Perhaps it will be better tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. It seemed funny to Josephine that that day never came.
Her father… The secret… Why had they done it? Her father…
"BABIES!"
Josephine screamed and fell backwards on the ground. What had made that noise?
"BABIES!"
Suddenly, out of the shadows, a woman with wild, knotted hair, a face that was so dark with dirt that you could barely see her eyes and a toothless grin started cackling madly at Josephine.
"Old Katie could use that hair, my dear. Katie could, Katie could…" She muttered as she walking by, picking up a strand of her hair and letting it drop.
Josephine watched her walk away and held her breath as the stench hit her nostrils. "Right. That's it. The first tavern I see".
So she picked herself up ("so much for clean attire" she thought), took a deep breath and hurried out onto the street. It was lit well and there was screaming, drunkards everywhere and laughter. Most of all the laughter. Bitter, money grabbing laughter. She hurried on and searched every entrance for taverns. None on this street it seemed, so she hid behind a corner again and let out a shaky breath. Survived her first attack, she thought.
A cold blade hit he throat and she gasped.
"Tha's right. Stay nice and quiet and no-ones going to get angry," the male raspy voice dug the blade a bit deeper into her skin, "or 'urt."
He pulled her to her right and pulled out a pistol which he placed to her head. He removed the knife.
"Now. We're just going to go in the door about five foot down there luv' al'right?"
She nodded slowly, speechless and he pushed her so they walked down the alley, and took a right into a door.
The room was dimly lit with only a few chairs in it. She was pushed onto one.
"Stay 'ere. An' don' think about running away. There are others." The man turned round and walked into another room and closed the door.
Josephine was amazed. She had never seen a room like this before. It was dark and very scarcely furnished with pictures on each wall of scenes of towns. Amazement was a secondary emotion and her first was terror and all she thought to do was cry and a tear ran down her cheek but she promptly wiped it away as the man came back in with a piece of paper. He placed himself at the table on a chair. He was a big man, slicked back hair and dark eyes.
"Wha's yer name?"
"Umm… ummm…" She really was speechless.
"Do you need my friend the knife again?"
She swallowed, "no, it's Josephine. Josephine Farnborough."
He wrote that down quickly and then stood up facing her.
"We'll shortly be puttin' you in a room. Don' think of tryin' to get out. It ain't gonna happen."
"Why… why am I here?"
"You really wanna know now?" He said slowly.
"Yes." She piped out.
"I have a boss. He's sells women's mother of saints. You, my dear, would be perfect for this lil'… industry shall we say?"
"What?" Josephine stood up traumatized.
"You 'eard me. If I was the boss I'd let the work force have a piece of the merchandise before 'and but capin's orders." He turned to leave.
"I want to talk to your boss!"
The man burst out into raucous laughter. "There's no talkin' to him luv'!" He stopped talking and leaned in close to Josephine. "He's a mute." And he suddenly kissed her. Josephine was taken aback so her eyes instantly closed but when she opened them she saw his pistol on the belt. She reached forward slowly and pulled it out of his belt.
"Ah!" She placed the gun against his head but didn't wish to tell him it was upside down.
"Darlin', drop it."
"No! In fact, I don't think I will!" She stood up and tried to calm her shaking hand. "You, get back against the wall!"
"I don' think you know how to use a gun and my men are just next door so I can shout…"
"Just try." She cocked the pistol. "It worked!" She thought.
"Al'righ', easy," he sounded wary so he turned round.
"Now," it came out as a whisper so she spoke louder, "now! I'm going to leave now. So, so you just stay there. Well, goodbye!" And with that she ran out the door still holding the gun. She ran through streets and streets stumbling over barrels and bodies until she stopped, panting in a side street. She dropped the gun and jumped away from it.
"Disgusting thing!" She thought.
She stood there at a complete loss of what to do. She contemplated going back to the bookshop but she had no idea where she was. If only… Like a light in a dark room she suddenly saw The Batty Hag right next to her. Well, that's better than nothing. So she stepped into pub with a grimace on her face.
"So we set sail tomorrow men?"
"Aye!" The chorus of agreement said and Jack smiled. No luck in Tortuga, but luck can be found in odd places he thought and here it obviously wasn't hiding. He saw his newest crew member leaving the room and decided to grab his shoulder for a word.
"You alright then?"
"Yes. Thank you for this, I don't know what I would have done."
"S'alright. Just, don't do anything stupid?"
"I'll try not to." He left the room abruptly. "Still scared of me," thought Jack. But in time… in time young Peter would become a fine pirate.