PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: THE AFRICAN STAR
By ErinRua
CHAPTER 22
Jack Sparrow was not amused. He had truly hoped sunrise would find his quarry safely sailing along the Cuban coast and the HMS Dauntless long gone about other business. Sure enough, the Royal Venture was a small, distant silhouette cruising on the horizon towards Cuba. However, his narrow gaze also noted another set of proudly gleaming sails a distance behind Biltmore, and only one ship in this area would put on quite that much canvas. Commodore Norrington had obviously not shared in Sparrow's plan.
"I am not amused," said Jack.
"Understandable," replied Will, as he studied the same dawn-blushed sea. "It looks like the Commodore will catch Biltmore before the morning is out."
"That -." Sparrow thrust up one rigid finger and his dark face was livid. "Will not happen. It will NOT happen! NOT! Happen!"
With that he spun and stormed away, arms flailing as if in time to some internal diatribe. Will bit down on an exasperated sigh and hastened after him.
"Jack, you can't engage the Dauntless." He tried to match his pace to Sparrow's frenetic one. "That would be suicide. And you know Norrington will not stand aside simply because you appear on the scene."
"Sail ho!" rang a shout from aloft.
Jack jerked to a halt and glared up into the rigging. "Bloody what now?"
"Just a point off our port bow," Duncan's disembodied voice replied. "Yonder comin' down the coast. She's pretty good-sized, cap'n!"
With a bound Jack was at the rail, where he fumbled his spy glass from his waistcoat pocket. Beside him Will peered towards the distant coastline and saw indeed a white gleam of canvas.
"Ah, now will you look at that …" drawled Sparrow, glass held to his eye.
"What is it?"
"Spanish ship-of-the-line, mate. Seventy-four guns or I'm me uncle."
Will's eyes widened as he stared at the newcomer and then back at Jack. "Then he sees us, too."
"Yes, I rather think he does." Sparrow collapsed his glass and began briskly striding aft.
The ocean was suddenly becoming a marvelously populated place, and Will's young face was a study of desperate and conflicting emotions as he scrambled after the captain.
"Jack, you did agree that the Spanish have no love for pirates, didn't you?"
"Ah!" Sparrow stopped and wheeled so fast Will almost collided with him. An awful lot of teeth shone in the pirate's sudden grin. "Then we had better not let them catch us, aye? This is the time, mate, when brains must suffice where brass will not."
"But -."
Sparrow about-faced in a flurry of braids and beads and resumed stomping towards the helm. The thick plait of hair at the back of his head bounced between his shoulder blades with each stride.
"Obviously the commodore is not above taking a calculated risk. That being so, I say we should test his steely British resolve."
He leapt up the stairs to the quarterdeck and Will scrambled up behind. "Meaning what, Jack?"
Jack's face was suddenly inches from Will's own as the blacksmith jerked to a halt on the steps.
"William, do you know that some of the finest swords in the world are made by smiths in Toledo, Spain?"
"Of course I do, but what does -."
Sparrow's gaze went unfocused in contemplation as he tapped his fingers to his lips. "I wonder how Spanish steel fares against British, ay?"
Will still grasped the rail as Jack swung away, saying, "Keep a weather eye out, mate! You never know what one may spy in these waters."
***
"Sir, that - that -."
"I see him, Gillette."
Norrington stared narrowly across miles of blue ocean, watching more than the sails of the merchant vessel he was pursuing. They had been steadily gaining on the Royal Venture since spotting her at dawn, which was after all a mathematical certainty. The Dauntless possessed the greater sail and more, a shrewd commander who knew how to wring every last knot of speed from her, while measuring a foe's course to precision. However, that unmentioned other had finally appeared from lurking beyond the horizon and Norrington was not in the least amused.
"What is he doing?" Gillette's face screwed into a look of utter confusion, which in his case instantly reduced him to the appearance of a sixteen year old.
"I imagine we shall see."
What 'he' was doing, that ship and captain for whom Norrington had not yet spoken names, was making himself bloody hard to ignore. Several of the Dauntless' officers and a number of her men were already drifting to the starboard rails. There they squinted towards the silhouette that seemingly emerged from the blaze of the sun itself. A ship it was, her full press of canvas bent like bold black wings before the wind. Let it never be said that Jack Sparrow lacked a flair for drama.
"Surely he's not going to attack her right in front of us." Gillette turned a dubious look to his commander. "Is he?"
The commodore made no reply, though his mouth tightened to a thin line. Not even Sparrow could be so rash as to strike a vessel under the very eyes of a 100-gun British warship. Not when there would be no hope of holding that prize long enough to plunder it. Yet what in heaven's name could that madman be planning?
"She sees him …. Look, she's turning towards the coast." Raising an arm Gillette pointed ahead, where the small figure of the Royal Venture was indeed trimming sails for a new tack.
"He's driving her," Norrington mused, narrow-eyed. "But why?"
"Deck, ahoy! Sail, sir, two points off the larboard bow!" A pause. "Sir, it looks like a Spanish seventy-four!"
***
On the decks of the Royal Venture men stared in dismay at the black apparition striding out of the sunrise towards them. Great sails spread like the wings of a stooping hawk, and though it appeared a toy figure at first sighting, the ship seemed to grow with preternatural swiftness. No living ship should have black sails and this demon had already hurt them once. Now more prayers flew from the slave ship's decks than perhaps Heaven had ever heard from that crew.
Sir John Biltmore, however, felt the vastness of his wrath straining the fine brocade upon his breast, and his voice was the thunder that drove his men beyond their fear. Sailors scrambled and canvas billowed as the helm spun to a new course.
On the black ship came, driving at an angle from the sun-washed open sea, but now Biltmore watched with savage anticipation. For bounding towards them along the coastline of eastern Cuba ran their salvation under the white-and-crimson banner of Spain, while coming behind sailed the British bane of pirates the seas over.
"Now we'll see, Captain Sparrow," he forced through clenched teeth. "If you keep coming, I'll have you between the Devil and the deep blue sea."
"Sir, we found the flag!"
Biltmore turned to face the man panting from haste beside him, and raised a single eyebrow. "Then run up our colors, Mister Stone. We are after all an honest merchant under the flag of his Spanish Majesty, King Charles the Second." His eyes narrowed. "And tell Mister Fry I wish to see the governor's wench."
Within moments the slave ship's rigging blossomed with the rippling folds of the Burgundy Cross. Straight towards the Spanish warship the Royal Venture now made, and ere long lookouts on both sides could clearly make each other out.
Elizabeth staggered as she was hauled bodily into blinding sunlight, and wrenched at the hands gripping her arms. "Let me GO!"
"Not yet, pet," growled First Mate Fry. "The cap'n wants to see you."
"Yes, but MUST you twist my arms until -."
"Let her go, Mister Fry. Thank you."
That supercilious, rasping voice set Elizabeth's teeth on edge even before she spied its owner. Legs wide apart the Royal Venture's master stood on deck, imposing, elegantly clad and once again masked like some macabre player in a grim devil's drama.
Staggering as the restrictive hands suddenly let go, Elizabeth caught her balance and immediately drew herself up straight as she could. Even in dingy linen with her hair gone wild she was still a governor's daughter, and sternly reminded herself to keep her chin up.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"I would like you to bear witness, my dear," Biltmore replied, and languidly swept a hand outwards. "It would seem you have more friends than I thought … but alas, none of them will avail you."
Elizabeth gasped as she spied a familiar majestic tower of sails rising out of the sea behind them. None hindered her as she rushed to seize the railing, every sense straining across the water between.
"The Dauntless!"
"Nor is that all. Look away to starboard, my dear. Uh, that's to the right, to you."
The look she shot towards him could have melted glass. "I know what starboard is."
Yet words fled her grasp as she saw another well-known profile sailing from the sun, coming at a long diagonal to the Dauntless' course. Black sails, black as fear, black as death and never so dear a sight, for she suddenly knew with clear certainty that Will was aboard the Black Pearl and they were coming! Hope sprang into her throat like a joyous shout, but she smothered it to watch with elation shining gloriously in her eyes.
"Run up the signals!" Biltmore roared.
Elizabeth spun to stare upwards as bright pennants ran aloft, snapping in the wind. Only then did her gaze drop to see the third vessel, a great ship bristling with guns and menace that came straight to meet them, but the flag it bore was not the flag of a friend.
As if to himself Biltmore murmured, "A little assistance if you please, Señor Capitan. 'Tis a most dreadful thing to have both pirates and the British Royal Navy invading your waters, is it not?"
In growing alarm Elizabeth demanded, "What are you doing? What are you doing?"
Yet Biltmore made no immediate answer. His eyes narrowed as he watched for the Spaniard's response. Moments later his lips curved in a hard, humorless smile.
"As you see, my dear," he said, "your pirate friends clearly lack intestinal fortitude. And your navy friends … let us say they shall soon be very busy with the Spaniards, who are not famous for their good humor."
Her fingers clamped around the railing until the blood fled from them, but it was only by that desperate grip that she restrained the scream of angry despair rising within. The Pearl was turning … the black ship was turning away and making for the safety of the open sea. Of course Jack Sparrow would not chance the guns of warships from two countries at once. And as the Spanish vessel swept past to confront the HMS Dauntless Elizabeth felt hope slip away, stolen on the wind to fill other sails.
"If harm comes to them," she said, "to ANY of them …." She faced that terrible crimson mask, eyes blazing with all the fury in her heart. "I will find a way to ruin you. As I live, I swear it."
"As you live. Which is entirely in my hands, is it not?" He chuckled, and it was a sound like bones knocking together.
***
"Sparrow, confound you …."
There were much stronger words Norrington could have used, but there was after all the matter of military decorum to observe, plus a great deal of fast thinking which must be done. It was now painfully clear why the Black Pearl had revealed herself to drive the Royal Venture towards the coast.
Even as he watched the black pirate ship was sheering away towards open water, apparently fleeing the appearance of the new warship. Meanwhile, however, Sir John Biltmore held a course that would bring his ship directly past the Spaniard. Behind Norrington lieutenants Gillette and Groves speculated aloud.
"Why did he want them to run to that Spanish warship instead of away from it?"
"I don't know," Groves replied, squinting with both sun and thought. "What I'd like to know is how he knew she'd do it! After all, the Royal Venture is a British vessel."
Norrington's jaw tightened as he spotted the white-and-crimson saltier cross on Biltmore's stern.
"Oh," said Gillette, obviously seeing the same flag. "Why, she's flying false colors!"
"She certainly is," responded Groves. "And these being Cuban waters, that leaves us in a bit of a pickle."
Those aboard the Dauntless watched until the two other ships were within cannon shot of each other. Through his glass Norrington observed another flicker of color, signal flags fluttering aboard one ship then the other. They were too far for him to read, but the result was clear enough. As the Royal Venture sailed serenely north, the oncoming warship stood directly towards the Dauntless, white water frothing at her bow and the Burgundy Cross of Spain flying at her masthead.
Ere long she was close enough for the British ship to see new signal flags running up to flutter imperiously. Then a single puff of smoke burst whitely at her bows. The boom of a cannon reached the Dauntless an instant later.
"Sir?" Gillette popped up like a jack-in-the-box beside him, his fair face looking positively bleached. "I think they're demanding that we heave-to! They're probably going to want an explanation for why we're in Cuban waters."
Sure enough, a faint, hollow voice drifted across the water and in the bow of the Spanish ship Norrington could see someone shouting towards the Dauntless through a speaking cone. The distance was such and the accent was so heavy that not a word was intelligible, but behind the shouter stood another man, portly and resplendent in a uniform a-gleam with an absurd amount of gold trim.
"Why, that pirate planned for this very thing!" exclaimed Groves. "Here we are detained, while Sparrow and his prize escape entirely unhindered." The lieutenant's chiseled features brightened in an admiring and decidedly unprofessional smile. "He is without a doubt the best pirate I've ever seen!"
With a sigh Norrington bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a very long morning.
***
Will watched anxiously from the Pearl's quarterdeck as the HMS Dauntless shrank astern, her tall sails slowing and gliding to seemingly merge with those of the Spanish warship. Neither ship was paying any least heed to the fleeing Black Pearl, which was a good thing, but he really did not wish Commodore Norrington any ill.
"They've both stopped," he said. "I think maybe the Spanish ship is putting a boat in the water." Frowning he added, "At least they're not shooting at each other."
"Don't worry, mate," Sparrow replied, flexing his fingers on the wheel. "England and Spain aren't at war this year." He turned his head to cast a fox-bright, gold-toothed grin over his shoulder. "At least not yet. How is the commodore's Spanish, anyway?"
As the day grew older there were two ships sailing with miles of sparkling ocean between them. Far from the eyes of anybody's navy the Black Pearl put on full canvas to fare her solitary way north past the eastern-most tip of Cuba. Now lost to sight, but somewhere nearly hugging the shoreline, the Royal Venture also made her way towards Sir John's estate and refuge at Baracoa.
However, the Black Pearl was the fastest ship in the Caribbean, and she would be there first. Waiting.
***
TBC …
AN: You may note I use the term "larboard" from time to time. It is the older term for "port," the left-hand side of a ship. I have chosen the device of using "larboard" for events aboard Norrington's very proper British navy ship, whilst leaving Jack et al with "port." Why? Beats me, guess I just like using both. :-)
P.S. RogueAngel, oops, I guess I was channeling other writing for that line, wasn't I? Unintentional, I assure you, but I guess I'll leave it as it is. *blush*
P.S. # 2: I'll try to get one more chapter posted before Christmas, for all of you, my loyal readers!