Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean and all associated characters belong to their respective owners. I just play and give back. All I can lay claim to are the OC's in this story – and not even them. They own themselves, alright? I guess I come out with nada. Sadly.
Author's Note: I can virtually guarantee that the Spanish has an error or two this time. -sigh- Please forgive if you catch it. I'm only now realizing that it's been a bit of a stretch since my last update and I apologize. I hate R/L. But don't we all?
Dedication: I dedicate this whole story to my grandpa who lived an eventful, healthy 86 years and instilled knowledge and the love of gardening in most everyone he came into contact with. He was joking up until the very end, and that's how I like to remember him.
Chapter 7 – Fresh New Mishaps
Kole pressed through the forest's thick undergrowth, hastening in—what he thought—was the direction of the native camp. Originally he had intended to follow the tracks of Jack's horse down the beach, but he soon found that sneaking around the manor to reach the beach was nowhere near as easy as he had envisioned. So he had stolen into the woods at the back of the manor whilst the crew was eating their dinner and so began his long trudge.
The light of day was fading rapidly—not that there had been all that much light to guide him, given the thick foliage that blocked the sun's rays. If he looked up he could still see the warm glow of the sun through the wide leaves of the tropical trees, but that light did not quite reach the ground on which he walked. On the forest floor it was already as dark as night. Perhaps darker.
As he pushed through another wall of branches an unseen thorn sliced his upper arm and he winced, barely suppressing a cry of pain. Though his arm now burned and his legs ached, he pushed onward, occasionally tripping on an upraised root or small bush.
Several minutes later, as he was fast loosing hope, he heard voices up ahead. He continued moving forward, though he now strove to make less noise.
"El Capitán es un poco insensato."
"Yo no convengo; él es sabio. ¿Recuerda los cuentos?"
"Mentiras. Mentiras buenas. Pero miente todavía."
"¿Oyó tú eso?"
Kole froze mid-step, his breathing loud in the sudden silence that filled the forest. He thought he heard the two men moving off and so he pressed weight on his forward foot and jumped when a branch snapped beneath him.
Almost faster than he could react to the snap of the branch a knife materialized from the shadows of the forest and imbedded itself in his near shoulder. Kole let out a feral cry of pain and dropped to his knees amongst the thick foliage. He shakily clutched his shoulder and groped for the knife's hilt.
Footsteps crashed toward him through the foliage and were accompanied by the bouncing light of a torch.
Kole swallowed dryly and fought against the pain that was blurring his judgment. He should run, this he knew. But what he knew no longer mattered. His physical pain was overbearing and he felt his ability to act upon what common sense he had slipping away with each painful breath.
The light of the torch blinded him as the two men came to stand over his pathetic, trembling form.
"Es el cachorro de Capitán Sparrow."
Kole looked up hazily, the familiar name flooding him with relief. "You—you're Sparrow's men?" He couldn't be sure, but it appeared that the two men traded long looks that were hidden by the flickering torchlight.
"El Capitán no será complacido."
ZzZzZzZzZzZ
Gibbs sat hunched at one of the many tables in the common mess hall. A single candle flickered before him, burning low in its holder. Charts, inventories and a logbook were spread out on the table with the occasional half-finished report scattered about.
With a sigh the older sailor replaced his quill in its holder and sat back, lifting his mug to his lips. As he tipped the mug back to take a sip, a sharp knock sounded on the door.
The old salt returned his mug to the tabletop with a loud clank and rose quickly. Had Jack or Ana returned already? He paced briskly across the room and pulled the door open. Two of Caciques' men entered, toting a limp figure between them. Gibbs closed the door behind them and turned to face them with an inquisitive glance.
A worried frown creased the old sailor's brow. "Kole?"
The elder of the two natives released his share of the youth's weight to his partner and stepped forward with a solemn expression. "El chico movía furtivamente alrededor y-"
Gibbs raised a hand to silence the man. "I don't understand a word of Spanish. Tell me in English if you can."
The man was silent for a moment, apparently collecting his thoughts. Finally he spoke in heavily accented English. "The boy was…sneaking about in the jungle. We were guarding and heard him and thought he was an animal. Sounded very much like a large cat." During this explanation, Gibbs' gaze had traveled and landed on Kole, who hung heavily against the other native man with his head drooping so far forward that his chin rested on his chest.
"-nothing to tie it off with, so we left the knife in him."
Gibbs started from his blank stare and his gaze shot to the native who had spoken. "Knife?"
"In his shoulder."
Gibbs looked back to Kole whose left shoulder was stained crimson. His mind became carefully blank and fell back to a routine often used in past experiences of this nature. He nodded to the speaker and went to stand behind Kole, wrapping his arms around the unresisting youth's waist. "I'll take 'im from 'ere, thank you."
The younger nodded and released his supportive hold on Kole, letting the boy's weight fall into Gibbs' steady arms. With respectful bows the natives made their exit, closing the door silently behind them.
Gibbs moved to stand beside Kole and laid the boy's good arm across his shoulders. The old sailor then wrapped his arm about the boy's waist and lugged the limp weight over to the table to retrieve the candle.
With the nearly-spent candle in its holder in one hand and the heavy weight of the boy on the other arm, Gibbs made his way carefully up the stairs, down the hall, to Kole's assigned room. He nudged the ajar door completely open with the toe of his boot and half-carried, half-dragged the boy over to the low bed.
After depositing his burden, Gibbs closed the door and set about lighting the two lanterns that occupied the room. He blew out the almost-dead candle and placed the warm holder on the desk.
Gibbs rummaged through the chest at the foot of the bed and brought out several lengths of white cloth bandages as well as a bottle of rum. Along with the bandages and rum he brought one of the lanterns over and set it on the bedside table.
Kole had not moved an inch from where Gibbs had placed him. The old sailor sighed. "Ye've the right of it lad," he whispered as he sat on the edge of the bed and positioned the boy so his injured shoulder was nearest to the elder. Gibb's wrapped one hand carefully around the hilt of the dagger. "Ye wouldn't want t' be awake for this."
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"That were a nasty trick Ana," Jack scolded, narrowing his eyes at her warily as she handed him a cup. He sat cross-legged on the leaf-bed, his boots discarded on the other side of the shelter.
"Not my fault you like to drink," Ana retorted, taking a sip of her own beverage. "And you should have known better than to drink so much on an empty stomach. Better yet, you should have known better than to drink so much of Caciques'—Jack? What's that look for?"
Jack smiled silkily at Ana and gently ran his fingers along her forearm, leaving goose-bumps in their wake. Ana's mouth tightened into a mild frown as she pulled her arm closer to her.
"Methinks I know why you did what you did, lass," Jack purred suggestively, moving his brows up and down with a sly grin. Ana's scowl darkened and her hand clenched into a fist in her lap.
Jack caught her wrist as her arm shot up. A more feral grin lit his face as he met her heated gaze evenly. "Only fair you get a lil' somethin' in return, eh?"
Ana's lip twitched and the fist that Jack held tightened.
"Now then lass, if I let you go, promise not to slap me?"
Ana inhaled deeply and her frown softened as she exhaled. She worked her jaw for a moment before setting it grudgingly. "Aye Captain."
Jack smiled easily and released her wrist in one exaggeratedly simple motion. He sniffed warily at the contents of his cup before taking a small sip. He grimaced. "Juice, lass? Couldn't you 'ave been a tad bit nicer and spiced it up with some of Caciques' brew?" he paused a beat. "Or were you just not wantin' to repeat last night's activity? Or rather, the lack thereof?"
Ana scowled darkly and Jack raised one arm in defense. Instead of hitting him, Ana rose and drenched him with the contents of her cup as she brushed past.
Jack spattered and shook his head, sending droplets of juice flying in every direction. He glared after Ana, absently rubbing the juice from his face. "Maybe Gibbs was right after all," he mused as he rose.
The pirate winced as he left the shade of the hut and stepped into the bright midday sun. He brought one hand up to shield his eyes and scanned the sandy area that stretched before him. Strangely empty. Jack shook his head and reminded himself of the time. The smart ones were in the huts resting and the men were out hunting or fishing.
"Ah, Capitán Sparrow, glad to see you have decided you like this world more than the one of your dreams," Caciques' deep voice greeted cheerfully.
Jack allowed himself to grin as he turned to face the chief, lowering his hand now that his back was to the sun. "Nice t' see you too, Caciques."
The chief's good-humored smile settled into a frown as other thoughts occupied his mind. "The lady Anamaria is angry with you. Again."
Jack nodded and rubbed at the sticky remnants of the juice coating his face. He turned and paced toward the incoming surf, ignoring the burn of the hot sand beneath his feet. Caciques followed.
Jack waded into the waves and the strong sea breeze whipped his unruly locks about him, giving him the visage of a wild and dangerous predator. He kneeled in the shallows and splashed the salty water on his face, rinsing the sticky beverage from his skin and hair.
"Jack,"
Jack started at the voice and threw his head up, sending droplets of water scattering about himself. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Caciques standing a foot away from him in the surf, then returned to washing the juice off.
"You mustn't let something as simple as this—an argument—keep you angry at her and her at you."
"Since when are you the advice-giver, mate? I thought that was someone else's job."
Caciques chuckled quietly. "Ever the fake man. Do not fear your true self, Capitán Sparrow."
Jack spun around, a retort fresh on his tongue, but Caciques was already halfway back to the village. His retort dead, Jack lowered his gaze to the constantly moving water at his feet.
ZzZzZzZzZzZ
Gibbs rubbed his forearm as he looked in at the sleeping form. He had gotten a rather fierce reaction when he had pulled the knife from the boy's shoulder and now wore a dark purplish mark for his efforts. But the force of the pain had also knocked the kid right back out and he had been sleeping ever since.
It was already past noon and Gibbs was beginning to worry.
Author's Note 2: While on the subject of the badly-written Spanish, I realize that I've not been providing non-speakers with translations! -is dumb- My apologies. I'll start changing that now…
-El Capitán es un poco insensato. The Captain is a bit foolish.
-Yo no convengo; él es sabio. ¿Recuerda los cuentos? I disagree; he is wise. Remember the stories?
-Mentiras. Mentiras buenas. Pero miente todavía. Lies. Good lies. But still lies.
-¿Oyó usted eso? Did you hear that?
-Es el cachorro de Capitán Sparrow. It's Captain Sparrow's whelp.
- El Capitán no será complacido. The Captain will not be pleased.
-El chico movía furtivamente alrededor y- The boy was sneaking around and-