Liberty,Equality,Fraternity - by Cunien
Righty-ho - I have some massive apologies to make: in the past I've been completely blown away by you guys, the ones who've been with these stories from the very beginning, and have been supportive, incredibly encouraging and inspiring. I love you all and am forever and always thankful to you. It's because of you guys that I've continued writing, and have grown and developed so much as a writer. This past year I've moved away from home, started a course at university and have generally been so busy settling in and living life. That's why there have been no updates. Hopefully over the summer I can continue to update some more. But this story is NOT abandoned - got it? It's just been adrift in the Sargasso Sea with not a breath of wind for almost a year. But we're all still alive...lost a few limbs to the scurvy, but fear not, I've still got (most of) my fingers to type! So here are an extra 2 chapters to keep you going for a while, and I hope you haven't all jumped ship, cos I'm lashing myself to the wheel.
Please forgive obvious typos and mistakes - I'm not the most observant person.
Warnings: As a series - Mild swearing, not so mild racism and slavery. Also violence and torture, mostly aimed at Jack - Don't worry your pretty little head about it - Jack doesn't.
Chapter 10- Pity the Pitchfork.
For a moment I tried to hide. I entertained a fantasy of blending seamlessly into the crowd, disappearing like the Skeleton Man, slipping through their very fingers.
Of course the fact that I was the only white man in the congregation didn't really work in my favour. And since when has Jack Sparrow been anything less than noticeable?
The guards looked around with a rather clever mix of stupidity and disdain on their faces.
one said, motioning towards me. I looked to my left and I looked to my right. I looked him right in the face, innocently. No one of that name here, as you can see. I reasoned. Fairly enough, I thought.
They started moving towards me.
Jack Sparra'.Sparrow. That's me. Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow. If you please.
They didn't seem too pleased, actually. I can tell this by the way the bigger one came and grabbed me and jerked me just so - enough to make my head whip back and forwards but keep my neck unbroken. Quite an art, let me tell you.
You're going to work, mate.But it is our Sunday! It is our day of rest! shouted Sarah, eyes ablaze and flushed from her previous exertions.
Yep. She's right, you know. It's sunday - I can see how you may have gotten mixed up - I used to all the time, but I find it's easier if you think of it as a day that follows saturd-
The man holding me by the scruff of my neck shook me once more.
It's your day of rest, he said, indicating the slaves with a nod of his head. Not Oh. Right. So when's my day off then? I asked, reasonably I think.
said the guard holding me.
When you're dead you'll rest, said the other, slightly smaller oaf, at exactly the same time.
The guard holding me glared at him.
the smaller agreed with a quick nod of his head.
This is the slave's day off. You is not a slave, says Gabriel.Oh, that's nice, I said.
Gabriel says, to be a slave you has to be a person. agreed the other guard, And Gabriel says he has more com...comp... I offered.
Compasss...s..sssion.. for a pitchfork.That's a bit silly, I said as they hauled me out of there. Why pity a pitchfork? I mean, it's a pitchfork. It's happy being a pitchfork. Wouldn't you say?
The guards shook me till the bright fields outside doubled and swam across my vision in waves.
The early morning was growing into a stunning scorcher of a day by the time we reached the fields. Standing around in idle sweatiness were a few of Gabriel's thugs, but what really drew my attention were their little friends: cat'o'nine tails, knuckle dusters, coshes, whips of varying degrees of cruelty.
I see you've come prepared, says I to one of them as we passed him. To tell you the truth I was feeling rather chuffed with myself. Granted, this made life worse for me, and made my chances of carrying off the escape plan I'd just formed slightly lower than I'd anticipated.
But honestly? There's nothing like the buzz of knowing someone fears you'll get the better of them. I mean, here I am, a prisoner on a Caribbean island - the wide blue ocean lies between me and the few people who don't want me dead. There are 10 men here to guard me, and to be brutally honest they're the kind of chaps that know nothing but brutal honesty.
Brutal, violent, cruel honesty.
If I make them angry then they'll tell me straight up. Alright, maybe tell' is not the most appropriate word, but they'll certainly let me know.
They're the kind of men who speak in fists to the nose, knees to the balls and kicks to the stomach. What the hell do they need all these little helpers for?
Gabriel must be worried. Just a little bit maybe, but worried none the less. He wants to keep me here, and he's heard the stories - oh, everyone has - they spread like wildfire round these parts.
Didn't you hear, Jack Sparrow escaped from that prison in Port Royal a while back? He did you know! Under lock and key and guarded by the Goverener's finest.
And what about that time in Tortuga, when those smugglers had him in that room - tied to a chair no less! They say he trained the rats to kill the guards and bite through his rope!
Wasn't it Sparrow that escaped from under the noses of those Naval ships somewhere near North Africa? Just up and disappeared - there one minute and gone the next - like a mirage, they say.
Yep, all me. In a manner of speaking.
So I set to work, making sure to keep the smile on my face for as long as I could manage. I knew they were watching, and I knew they were wondering: what's he got to smile about? What's he got up his sleeve?
They didn't need to know that, right at that moment, I had nothing up my sleeve whatsoever.
Now having had the honour of working the fields before, I now knew the lay of the land. But then, things are very different when you work alone: every step had to be taken all by meself. So Jack cut the cane. Jack stripped the leaves, and Jack took the baskets of cane down to the grinding house.
In the grinding house the Overseers started the machines, and I dashed about like a madman trying to do the job of twenty men all at once. The upside was that I had little time to dwell on my sorry situation. Perhaps the sorriest situation I've found myself in to this day.
They gave me a break of a few minutes when I swayed and threatened to fall over the railings of the upper level and make a mess of the machines jaws, gnashing away 20 feet below.
And soon the sun was low, and the night coming on swiftly with it's cool starry sky.
The guards frogmarched me to the top of the hill, where I repeated my Incredible Boneless Man trick and flopped to the floor hard enough to kick up a fair amount of dust. I made sure the guards were out of sight along the path before I did so, of course. If there's one thing you learn from this cautionary tale of mine, it's to keep up appearances. Always look your best, always act your best, and never let them see what you really feel or think.
That night I crawled round the sleeping bodies of Nathan and his family, and lay there looking up at the stars. I was like a dead man alive - so tired I felt I could never move again, but still my mind worked away like one of the machines in the grinding house: gnashing and gnawing and turning and spinning, spewing out little bits of ideas. Some were like those little distant stars, like smudges in the sky: faint out of the corner of your eye and gone completely when you looked straight at them. But they were there, none the less.
I needed to get down to the port, if I could, where there were people, and weapons, and ships. Perhaps means to get a message out to the Pearl.
What did I have?
Well, it was better to start with what I didn't have: no pistol, no cutlass, no knife.
No transportation apart from my own humble legs.
And what did I have? If I could knock out a guard - cat'o'nine tails, coshes and whips. I had scythes, pitchforks... and a village full of slaves: humiliated and crushed, but angry.
And here, at the most perfect moment, the little cloud that had been sitting in front of the moon was brushed aside, and the silver light shone down on me like the grace of God.
The anger and hatred of the slaves was bubbling under the surface like molten rock under the surface of some of those pretty little unassuming islands I'd set foot on. Pretty and unassuming, until the mountains belched forth smoke and rock and fire, and waves of heat that travelled faster than the strongest winds could blow a ship, so they say.
If I could somehow incite this anger - use my silver tongue to persuade them to rise up against Gabriel and his men, then I'd be free. And so would they. And I need never fire a shot.
I could sack the whole of Nassau port, without firing a single shot!
I jumped up then. Well, I say jumped' but in all honesty I just sat up slowly.
The revolutionary flame was burning inside me! I, Captain Jack Sparrow, could bring liberty - equality - fraternity! Free the slaves and bring justice to this little corner of the world!
And once that was done I'd sail to Europe and spread the revolutionary spirit! France could do with some shaking up, don't you think...? And then to America! Across the world! Bringing peace and justice by means of the sword and gun! And all men would be equal! Except for me of course, because, well, I invented it after all. It's me that's the Revolutionary here. So I could be King, right? Or maybe Emperor. Yes. I liked that. Emperor Captain Sparrow. A fitting title, don't you think?
The only problem was Nathan.
The slaves looked to him to lead - Sarah and said so herself. He could end this uprising in a second if he really wanted to. After all, the Africans listened to him when he told them to keep their heads down and obey their new Masters'.
And the key to him was...?
What was the key to him? Because every man has a key - some little lever that can be flicked to make them act just how you want. The White Men had done it when they first came to Africa. Oh of course, they took their slaves by force, but they also figured out exactly what tune to play to make the Africans dance just so.
His family. That was Nathan's key. I doubted it, but I made up my mind to talk to Sarah - try and get her to bring Nathan round to my way of thinking.
I lay back down to sleep, trying to calm the thoughts buzzing around my head. As I settled down, the hard ground nudged my spine and I squirmed to get comfortable, feeling my bones creak around after the hard day's work.
Bones, I thought. Bones.
The thoughts that I'd been trying to silence to make room for the sleep wormed their way back into my mind.
I'd forgotten completely about the Skeleton Man.
TBC...