PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: THE AFRICAN STAR

By ErinRua

CHAPTER 21

Men stood at the rail of the HMS Dauntless in silence, watching the bright water that flowed below.  All had heard the distant thudding rumble of cannon fire.  Now they saw what seemed to be proof of its effect.  Broken planks, a shattered section of railing and indeterminate scraps of painted wood all drifted past in a straggling pattern of destruction that bobbed gently on the waves.

"Do you think someone sank the Royal Venture, sir?"

Lieutenant Gillette's round face registered a mix of doubt and grim fascination, which was mirrored in the more angular features of Lieutenant Groves.  Since the slave ship was their quarry it was only natural to suspect the wreckage was her, but there certainly were other ships in the Caribbean.

Commodore Norrington's gaze noted and itemized each bit of flotsam they passed.  "I think not.  We are finding no bodies, which would seem unlikely for the crew on a ship of that size, and the paint is the wrong color."

"It is?"

"See there?"   Norrington pointed to a bit of shattered planking.  "That is white, but the Royal Venture is painted in blue, green and gold, with not a bit of white on her."

"Why, so it is," Groves agreed.

"But it's clear someone was sunk," Gillette added.  "I wonder who they were."

Groves eyed his commander with only thinly veiled excitement.  "Did pirates attack them, you think?"

Norrington frowned, prepared to quash the young men's over-eager imagination and say no, but then found himself reluctant to divulge too much.  He knew they had spotted the Black Pearl this morning, which meant of course she had seen them, and for a time she had remained far ahead on the horizon.  She eventually outpaced them, much to his chagrin, but he felt certain that she was also on the trail of the Royal Venture, incited no doubt by the unrelenting young Mister Turner.

Gillette nudged him from his musings by adding, "Might it involve that … other … ship we saw this morning, but which we're not talking about?"

Norrington turned his head to regard his officer's wise smile.  The young man was clever enough to have made his own observations, but thankfully shrewd enough to have kept his suspicions silent until now.

"It might … but something does not add up."

"How so, sir?"

"If that ship we're not talking about were pursuing a rich quarry such as the Royal Venture, it would be foolish to stop and attack random vessels along the way.  Their real prize would in the meanwhile escape."

"Ah."  Gillette's eyebrows rose thoughtfully.  "And it would make no sense for that ship we're not talking about to risk giving up a known prize, for some odd chance that may bring only a pittance."

"Precisely."

"So there are simply pieces to this puzzle that we don't have yet."

"So it would seem," Norrington replied.  "However, since there appears to be no one to rescue, we must resume our search.  Sir John's last known destination was Port Paix, so there is where we must go."

"Aye, sir."  Gillette frowned sadly as one last fragment drifted by.  "I do hope whoever these unfortunates were, they found rescue."

"One hopes, Mister Gillette.  One hopes."  Norrington granted the young officer a small, sympathetic smile before turning away.

Then a shout rang from the foretops as a lookout cried, "Sail, ho!  It's the Royal Venture, sir, off our larboard beam!"

Startled, Norrington stepped to the rail and peered into the glare of sun and sea.  Sure enough, there was the Royal Venture, going hull-down to the northwest in an almost opposite direction from Hispaniola.

"Whatever is he doing there?" asked Groves with a frown.  "That's not the way to Port Paix."

"No," said Norrington, his gaze narrowing.  "But it is the way to Santiago, Cuba.  Helm!  A change of course if you please!"

The commodore strode away to give his bearings for the new tack, leaving the two young officers to mimic their commander's grim stare towards that distant sail.  Then Gillette smiled thinly.

"Well, Sir John, I don't think you'll be getting to Santiago."

Away to the northeast cruised a darker set of sails, lost in haze with the murky coast of the cape at St. Nicholas behind her.  On her decks, however, another man stood with a spy glass to one eye and watched with great interest the manoeuvres of those distant sails.

"Excellent form, Commodore," he murmured.  "He's been hurt once already.  One look at you and he'll turn and run like frightened nun."

Sparrow lowered the glass with an expression of great satisfaction.  Beside him the weathered face of Cotton, the mute, squinted in the sun and as ever he made no sound.  The parrot on his shoulder, however, bobbed its blue and yellow head to screech, "Blow the man down!"

"Right you are, Parrot and Mister Cotton," Sparrow replied and a keen, gold-touched grin creased his face.  "Right into our arms."

***

The sun was setting when Sparrow again found Will.  Upon return to the ship Will had vanished below decks to aid as he might in tending the Lady's wounded men, while Jack had been busy topside with other matters.  Now, alone on the Pearl's foredeck, the young blacksmith stood staring across watery undulating ribbons of blue and gold.

"Been like that over an hour," Gibbs said quietly.

Sparrow grimaced and sighed.  There was little gentleness in a seaman's life and less among pirates.  A man endured or he did not.  Yet for reasons that did not bear examination, Jack ambled forward to lean on the rail not a hand's width from the boy.  He did not speak, however, leaving Will to have the first word if aught was to be said.

After a time, Will said softly, "Tell me what I should have done different."

Jack shook his head, even though the lad was not looking at him, and matched his quiet tone.  "You done what you had to.  I don't ask more than that."

The glance Will shot over his shoulder was sharp enough to cut glass.  "Then what would you have done?"

"What would I do?"  Jack leaned his hip against the rail and pursed his lips thoughtfully, fingers briefly tapping his chin.  "Why, I reckon I would 'ave put on all sail, swore in two or three languages, and then did my best to knock the bejeezus out the ugly bastard until somebody bigger than me came along to finish the job."

The younger man's eyes narrowed, but Jack held his gaze steadily.  "Son, it doesn't matter what I would or wouldn't do.  What matters is that you did the best you could do with the situation you were given."

Yet the words missed their mark and Will's dark head bowed between hunched shoulders, his fingers tightening on the rail.  "But it wasn't enough, was it?  Men died out there, because I wasn't clever enough to make the right choices."

"No.  Men died because the Royal Venture shot you out of the water."

His head popped back up again. "Then tell me what I should have done!"

"Fight.  Sail.  Claw and bite and shoot and never give the other man the upper hand."

"But …" The starch seemed to run out him again, and Jack could see the damnable, breakable, idealistic youth in those wounded eyes.  "I tried.  And they got us anyway."

"That's how it 'appens sometimes, Will.  You don't always win."

Sparrow watched as that cold truth struck home, and it was clear the idea did not sit well.  Will Turner was a young man who believed all things were possible, if a man knew he was right and just applied himself diligently enough.  Until today, perhaps he had not seen enough of the world to realize that sometimes the wrong people triumphed.

"What are you saying, Jack?"  Temper began to boil slowly up from some reservoir he usually kept capped.  "Are you saying that all of this was for nothing?  That I shouldn't even have tried and that Elizabeth might as well give up hope now, because there's no chance of winning?  Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Jack held up one finger.  "No."

Then he leaned once more on the rail and pretended to admire the sunset, now igniting distant clouds into towers of gold.

"Jack …"

Sparrow looked at Will sidelong.  "Today you were in a fight, and you lost.  There is no matter of fault or blame in it.  Tomorrow, however, is another day.  And if you look yonder, you may observe that the interesting cloud formation off to the north is actually Cuba."

The look of blank surprise on Will's face was priceless, and also proof of just how gone in gloom he had been.  He frowned slightly, and then a ghost of a smile touched his lips.

"Cuba, hm?"

"Aye.  And we seem to be bound north-northwest.  Right up the Windward Passage."

A glimmer appeared in Will's eyes.  "Baracoa?"

"Baracoa."

Jack smiled to see the young man's chin come up, the dark eyes narrowing to scan the horizon with a renewed and familiar intensity.  A moment, then Will looked at him again.

"What did I hear about the Dauntless being behind us?"

"Oh, that.  She's back there somewhere.  She's proved herself rather useful, actually." As Will cast him a skeptical look, Jack quickly explained.  "Why, it was your commodore's quick action that prevented the Royal Venture from escaping to Santiago.  Funny thing, though - when Sir John turned back towards Port Paix, he came under the strangest suspicion that a pirate ship waited on the other horizon." 

Sparrow brought both hands together beneath a smug smile.  "Thereupon the Royal Venture took fright and is now sailin' her merry way north towards eastern Cuba.  I reckon we'll be at Baracoa to meet her before two days 'ave passed."

"Why would Sir John flee from Commodore Norrington?"  Will subtly raised one eyebrow.  "He's being chased by a pirate - I'd think he'd run straight to the Navy's arms."

"Ah, but ask yourself, why the commodore is here?"  Jack's fingers seemed to daintily pluck words from the air as his self-satisfied grin widened.  "I imagine Sir John came to the very conclusion I did; the Dauntless is 'ere because something changed your governor's mind and he now wants Sir John's head on a platter."

"Then where is the Dauntless now?"

"As I said, somewhere behind us, but really, she's no trouble at all."

"Beg your pardon!  A hundred gun ship-of-the-line is a lot of trouble to most pirates."

"Ah, but I'm not most pirates."  Sparrow leaned from the hips and gave a toothy smile.  "Honestly, Will, you worry too much.  Very soon we'll be runnin' around the eastern tip of Cuba and unless the commodore wants to explain his British Royal Navy self to any Spanish warships in the vicinity, it's highly unlikely we'll 'ave to worry about the Dauntless again.  We'll be out of British waters before morning and Commodore Norrington will 'ave to go back to harassing poor unsuspecting rum smugglers."

"Spanish warships? Jack, they won't think any more of us than they do of a British naval vessel."

"Then we'll just 'ave to make sure they don't see us, won't we?"  Abruptly Jack frowned.  "Meanwhile, you, Will Turner, look absolutely scuppered.  When did you last sleep?"

With some surprise, Will said, "I don't remember."

"Then go get some rest.  Before you know it we'll 'ave our prize."  Sparrow lifted his gaze reverently and raised his hands to shape the vision of splendor in his mind's eye.  "Think of it, mate.  Gold and silver, silks and ivory, the ill-gotten gains of all groaning Africa.  And a diamond fit for kings in the hands of the most notorious pirate in the Spanish Main - nay, the Seven Seas!"  His expression dropped to sudden caginess and he squinted at Will.  "You don't mind if I keep the African Star, do you?"

Will gave him a look of great forbearance.  "I've told you, all I want is Elizabeth."

"Yes, yes, of course, you want Elizabeth.  How silly of me.  Now go on with you."

"Good night, Jack."

Sparrow's expression sobered as he watched the young blacksmith turn away.  Yet some impulse compelled him to speak again.

"Will."  He paused as the boy glanced at him, and when Jack continued his slurred tones were oddly gentle. "I saw what happened to the Lady.  And Anamaria told me the rest.  You fought a brave fight.  A man can't do more than that."

Will swallowed and simply nodded before resuming his steps.  However, he took only three paces before looking back over his shoulder, and the earnestness on his handsome young features was almost painful.

"I think I understand something now, Jack.  They were pirates … but they were good men."

At the companionway to the crew's quarters Will met Gibbs, and paused to nod towards the helm.  "When did he decide we're going to Cuba?"

"Ah," said Gibbs, grimacing thoughtfully.  "Well, I reckon that was when Biltmore murdered the Lady Elizabeth and her crew, with never cause er provocation."  The stocky old seaman narrowed his eyes and gave Will a sudden wily grin.  "Y' see, it ain't enough any more if Jack takes that man's ship.  Now 'e wants everything 'e's got."

Sparrow watched as Will vanished below decks.  Giving the boy a full night's sleep was all he could do.  Time to rest.  Time to grieve.  Time to let go the broken pieces during the dark watches of the night, so that strength could be regained with the sunrise.  Jack remained standing amidst the voices of wind and sea as Cuba's distant coastline faded slowly into twilight.

***

Starlight and a black sea were the realms the HMS Dauntless sailed between now.  Tortuga lay somewhere to eastward on an unseen horizon, but her bow was aimed just a few points east of the North Star and would not come near the island of the buccaneers.  Port Paix lay even further behind and no longer figured into her commander's reckoning.  He should sleep, but restless still he prowled the quiet deck and listened to the wind in the rigging and the creak of a working ship.

"Still awake, sir?"

Norrington looked to see Gillette smothering a yawn and offered a tiny smile.  "As are you.  Your watch is over, get some sleep."

"Aye, sir.  I'm just heading that way."  The young officer paused however, and cocked his head.  "Sir, I was wondering … that ship we're not talking about.  She must be the cause of the Royal Venture's new course, don't you think?"

"Perhaps, Gillette."

"I think she must be.  I never saw her, but all of a sudden there goes Sir John - it was passing odd.  She must have been beyond our horizon, but certainly not beyond his.  A clever trick, that, when you think about it.  Confound the winds that would favor him, but not us!"

Norrington made no reply, although Gillette's musings closely matched his own troubled thoughts.  The lieutenant frowned in contemplation.

"What perplexes me," he continued, "is why would … those others … want the Royal Venture to go flying off north?  There's nothing up there but Cuba, and I suppose eventually the Bahamas. I'd think they would prefer to catch her closer to Tortuga."

"He wants her out of our reach," Norrington said grimly.  What he did not voice was his infuriation that he had unwittingly turned the Royal Venture right into Sparrow's hidden trap.  "If Sir John is fleeing to his estate in eastern Cuba, he will soon be where he hopes we cannot follow."  He glanced sidelong at his subordinate.  "He is counting on our reluctance to invade a Spanish territory."

Gillette's boyish features shaped themselves in an O of chagrined surprise.  "Oh dear."

"Indeed.  Therefore we must catch them before they get there."

"And before the ship we're not talking about catches her, first."  The lieutenant paused and gave Norrington a doubtful look.  "The Dauntless can't outrun … them … can she?"

"We don't have to, Mister Gillette.  We need only out-think him."

"But you just said we will be in Spanish waters if we continue this course!"

"So we will, Gillette.  So we will."  Norrington gave a wintry smile.  "But we are a Royal British Navy vessel pursuing a ship sailing under the English flag, and I have no intentions of letting anyone have her before us."  He turned a narrow gaze out across the starlit sea, where a certain black ship ran somewhere just beyond view.  "Especially him."

***

Beneath a late-rising half moon the Royal Venture's masts bore a full suit of sails that strained for every ounce of wind.  All repairs had been made that could be, for they fled now from two hunters.  The watch was doubled this night, the men with the best vision chosen to spy the way and look for any hint of pursuit or hazard upon the darkened sea.  Somewhere behind lay the HMS Dauntless, pride of the Caribbean fleet, but the master of the Royal Venture rested his hope in the probability that Commodore Norrington would not be a man to risk scandal by creating an incident in Spanish waters.  His real worry lay in the pirate ship that stalked the sea unseen.  That it remained a threat, Sir John Biltmore had no doubt.

In his cabin the big man sat at a polished table beneath the warm glow of lanterns, his fingers tracing upon a chart laid before him.  There bent the eastern tip of Cuba, and just above lay the harbor that was his refuge.

"You are no respecter of flags, Jack Sparrow," Biltmore murmured, and tapped the parchment gently.  "Unlike our navy friends.  You will try to follow me even there, won't you?  For I know you are still out there, somewhere in the dark.  But not for the woman, oh no.  We both know it's not that."

His eyes glittered in lamplight as he sat back in his chair and raised a hand to touch the breast of his elegant coat.  A moment, then he slid his fingers inside the satin lining and from it withdrew an ornate pistol.  Carefully he checked the priming before laying it on the table, its muzzle facing his locked door.  Then he returned his hand into his coat and brought it forth holding a small, softly-gleaming casket, the wood so finely joined it appeared without seams.

Gently he caressed the box's satiny finish, fingers sliding to click a tiny brass latch.  He lifted the lid to reveal a small pillow of blue satin … and a shimmering fragment of the stars themselves.  Few ever saw the expression that came over Sir John's face, a softening of features that might have let a viewer name him handsome, a gentle wonder that only the recognition of perfection could inspire.

As his fingers delicately touched the iridescent gem, he whispered, "No, Sparrow.  So fine a thing shall not be thine, but only death."

***

TBC …

AN: Dear Readers: Just a quick but heartfelt note to say Thank You from the bottom of my heart.  Your responses to the last two chapters were absolutely wonderful, and I can't express how overjoyed I am to hear that things I attempted to do in those chapters actually worked as planned!  A writer can know no greater pleasure.  Many thanks again!  :-)  And don't worry - Jack is far from through with his tricks, nor have we heard the last from Elizabeth or the Commodore …

P.S. To Jackfan2's suggestion that I should send this to Disney - bless your generous heart! *HUG* But unless I run into Gore Verbinski or Jerry Bruckheimer in the supermarket (not likely) I'd be terrified to send this anywhere.  I'm just a small-town fan with no clue where or through whom one would seek tie-in novel licensing, and I'd dearly hate to wake up with a mob of angry Disney lawyers pounding on my door.  After all, we're but humble pirates ourselves, sneakily plundering the Mouse's movie hoard … :-)