Cursed disclaimers!

Many thanks, as always, for your reviews – they always give me a buzz. Special thanks to Kat for her suggestions (which have been taken on board!). Things starts to get a little interesting from now on…

Chapter seven

Jack Sparrow scanned the horizon through his looking glass, beaming with delight when he saw that his look-out, Jacob Sumner, was indeed correct and there were only three ships guarding the one carrying the tobacco that he, Ethan Penhallick and Arbaham Curzon were hoping to plunder. He traced a line back, gasping at the sheer size of the Dutch fleut. "Why?" he murmured, more to himself than anyone in particular.

"Why, what, Cap'n?" Joshamee Gibbs enquired.

"Why has a ship that size only got three guards?"

"Mebbe they can't afford any more guards – or don't want to pay out any more than they have to," the quartermaster suggested with a shrug.

"Nah… no-one is that stupid," Jack mused, taking his glass down and stroking his chin thoughtfully. "It's very high in th'water fer somethin' that's supposed to be loaded with tobacco… Mister Sumner!" he called to the watchman in the crow's nest. "Keep an eye out fer another ship – maybe well away from this flotilla, savvy?"

"Aye, aye, Cap'n," the crewmen replied before bringing his own spy glass back up to search for any other ship in the vicinity.

"Why isn't Sparrow headin' fer them?" Jargo Teague asked as he and his employer, Ethan Penhallick watched the Black Pearl from their position to her port stern.

"I have no idea," Penhallick replied. "But let's see what he does, eh? You don't become as successful a pirate as Jack by not knowing what you are doing." It had been some time since he had been on a raid and he had almost forgotten the nuances of attacking succesfully and decided to trust to Jack's expertise which were well-known and infamous amongst the pirate and merchant communities alike.

"Suppose not," Teague agreed, reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to feel the wind in his long blond hair as the Serpent gave chase to their prey.

"Sir!" Jacob Sumner called down to Jack. "I think I see more sails, but it's too far away ter be certain."

Jack smirked triumphantly to himself. "That's our target, Mister Gibbs," he crowed, puffing his chest out with pride.

"We don't even know that it is a target yet," the older man reasoned even though he knew his captain was more than likely correct – he usually was. In all his years at sea, Joshamee Gibbs had never come across someone with such an acute intuition as the man standing next to him on the quarterdeck.

"Of course it is," Jack sighed with impatience. "Mister Fernan, I am goin' ter speak with Penhallick, keep her steady, savvy?"

"Aye, Cap'n," the helmsman agreed. "Steady as she goes."

Jack turned on his heel and leaned over the stern rail, waving his arms to attract the attention of the ship sailing behind them. He was pleased to see Penhallick and Teague standing on their quarterdeck, looking towards him, and Jack waited as they walked the length of the Serpent until they reached the bowsprit. "Ethan," he called. "Th'ship is back there – these are decoys!" Jack jabbed a finger towards the general direction of where Sumner had seen the sails.

"Decoys?" Jargo Teague echoed, looking at the procession. "Th'bastards!"

"I told you to trust Sparrow," Penhallick chuckled. "Go and inform Curzon," he ordered, waiting until his second in command went on his errand to tell the captain of the other ship at their stern, what was happening. "Do we go after them now?" he called to the black ship ahead of his own.

"Head fer th'back of th'convoy, make them think we're goin' ter attack from behind, but carry on, savvy?"

"Aye, Jack, savvy," Penhallick laughed, giving his friend the thumbs up. "You crafty sod," he chuckled to himself as he went to instruct his helmsman on what to do.

The three attacking ships tacked towards the back of the flotilla and they could all see the men on the so-called guard ships making ready to defend themselves, but at the last minute, the Black Pearl tacked again and headed away from them and out of their range. A loud boom rang out as one of the guard ships tried their luck with the Serpent, Ethan Penhallick's ship, but they too turned just in time and the shot fell marginally short.

"Bloody hell," Jack swore, his eyes wide at the near miss. "They left that a bit late, didn't they?"

"Aye," Gibbs nodded, thinking that if it had been his helmsman who had left it that late, he'd be clapped in irons by now. "What if that ship isn't the target, Jack?" he asked quietly.

"Then I don't show my face in Tortuga for a bloody long time," came the retort.

"Cap'n! It looks like a merchant carrier from what I can tell," Jacob Sumner informed his captain from his lofty perch.

"See?" Jack crowed, preening himself. "Told you I was right."

"So you did," Gibbs grinned, shaking his head ruefully. "So you did…"

"An' she's all on her lonesome," Jack laughed. "How about we go an' keep them company, eh?" he called to the crew, who responded with a loud cheer.

"Keep watch for the guard ships, though," the quartermaster warned them as the noise died down. "They'll be turning tail as soon as they can."

"Unless Abe deals with 'em first," chuckled Oliver Fernan from his position at the helm.

A boom sounded across the water before anyone had a chance to reply, and they all turned to see what was happening.

"Looks like he's started!" Jack grinned as he spotted a puff of smoke coming the Sea Nymph at the rear of the three attacking ships, and panic on the decks of one of the guard ships which they had obviously hit.

"He's nothin' if not predictable," the Irishman laughed as he continued to steer towards the ship on the horizon.

"A few other things besides," Joshamee Gibbs added.

"Cap'n!" Jacob Sumner called down. "They're changing course – they know we're comin' fer them."

"So we give chase," his captain replied simply. "We'll catch them eventually."

Celia tossed and turned in the small cot but eventually gave up the fight and lay there, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, listening to the sounds of Aggie and Giselle as they both slept. 'I thought the virtuous were the one's able to sleep soundly,' she thought crossly. 'Vanity is a sin,' came another voice. 'Who said you are so virtuous, anyway?' She turned over in a futile effort to make herself comfortable, and closed her eyes, opening them immediately as she saw in her mind the liquid brown pools of the pirate captain who had dogged her steps for the past couple of days. 'Blast the man,' Celia cursed, wishing she would not think about him quite so much. 'There's nothing too wrong with him,' another voice reasoned. 'He was kind enough to offer me a bunk and he's never been untoward… well, not much.' She sighed heavily, wishing there was somewhere she could walk safely as she was sure she was about to wake the other two women with her fidgeting. 'Oh, for a garden,' she rued. 'Oh, for a nice, respectable town where I could walk unaccosted and didn't have pirates propositioning me every five yards…' But Celia knew that was now an impossible dream – at least until she had earned enough money to book a passage elsewhere. 'Back to England?' she wondered, biting her lips as she considered the idea. 'But it would cost an awful lot to return home,' she realised sadly. 'I ought to become a pirate!' Celia stifled a giggle at the preposterous thought and closed her eyes once more, hoping that she would manage some sleep before dawn.

The following day

Jack rubbed his eyes, having stayed awake most of the night, watching their quarry move closer and closer. He could not understand why they had not doused their lights as they obviously knew they were being chased, and he fought down a feeling of unease. Abraham Curzon had dealt with a couple of the guard ships effectively enough to deter the others from giving chase, and they had left their burden to their fate which gave Jack one less thing to worry about, but still the disquiet continued to dog him.

"Should be with them in less than an hour, Cap'n," Gabriel Jennings said as he approached with a beaker of coffee for his captain.

"I just hope it's worth it," Jack mused, nodding his thanks as he took the steaming drink off his crewman.

"Of course it will be," Jennings assured him with a frown. He had never heard his captain voice anxiety before. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I dunno," Jack shrugged. "Just some things aren't addin' up, that's all.' He looked once more at the ship looming ever larger in the dawn light. She certainly seemed low enough in the water to be carrying the amount of tobacco his informant had assured him would be on board, but she could equally be carrying enough munitions to blow them out of the water. 'Stop it,' he scolded himself. 'You never used to be a worrier, don't start now.' "Go rouse th'men," he told Gabriel. "Let's have them ready when we close, eh?"

"Aye, Cap'n," the crewman concurred, turning on his heel to hurry off on his errand.

Celia closed the bedroom door, wincing as Syndony Chester continued her tirade towards her. She had a feeling there would be trouble when one of the stable hands had dropped a pail right beneath the madame's window just after breakfast time and her employer's woman had let her displeasure be known to the whole household, screeching and yelling, and throwing things at whomever had the misfortune to have to enter her boudoir. Celia seemed to bear the brunt of it, as she often did. For reasons unknown to her, Syndony had taken a dislike to the former novice and never missed an opportunity for a barb here and a dig there – running her down all the time.

"Yer survived then?" Margaret asked acerbically as they walked down the stairs together. "I've never known the cow so vicious."

"Maybe she's worried about Mister Penhallick," Celia suggested, arching an eyebrow as her companion snorted derisively.

"The only thing she'd worry about is if the master is killed and someone else takes over the town – someone like Jack Sparrow." Margaret watched her friend carefully as she mentioned the pirate's name. She had a feeling there was something going on between them, despite Celia's strong protestations to the contrary.

"Why?" the blonde woman asked, trying not to react for she could feel Margaret's eyes boring into her. "Surely he wouldn't throw her out of her own home?"

"That's exactly what he'd do," Margaret stated firmly. "Fer one, it's not her home, and fer two, he don't have no time fer her. She'd have to go and live in the brothel again, and maybe work!" she giggled, obviously enjoying the thought.

"Why would Jack Sparrow take over the town? Surely there are plenty of other's who could take over?"

"Yer need a certain something," Margaret told her, having been born and brought up in the pirate town and seen many pirate kings come and go. "A way of dealing with people, and yer need wealth, and rumour has it Sparrow is richer than Mister Penhallick!" She followed her friend down the servant stairs and into the kitchen.

"Oh…" Celia replied, bringing to mind the somewhat luxurious surroundings of the pirate's cabin, which seemed at odds with his rather scruffy appearance.

"Mind yer, he's as mad as they come," Margaret chuckled, smirking as a blush crept over her friends face, as it always did when they spoke of the strange pirate captain.

"Who?" Sarah, the cook enquired as she looked up from kneading the bread.

"Sparrow," Margaret informed her. "'Ere, what's that noise?" she exclaimed as a dull boom resonated in the distance.

"Sounded like canon fire to me," Sarah exclaimed, her eyes going wide with worry.

"Sure not?" Celia frowned. "There are no new ships in the harbour."

"No, I know," Margaret fretted, looking at the back door as if expecting it to provide her with an answer. "Gawd, I hope it's not an attack."

"Attack?" Celia echoed, exchanging worried glances with the other two women. "Who would attack?"

"Pirates from another island, the Navy, someone with a grudge against the master – take yer pick."

"We don't know that it is a strike against the town yet," Sarah soothed, as much for her own benefit as the younger girls. She had lost her husband a few years ago to a naval assault and she had lived in fear of another one ever since.

"You!" Syndony shrieked as she flew into the kitchen, jabbing a finger at Celia. "Help me pack my clothes."

"W-why?" Celia enquired, fear churning in her stomach. "What's wrong?"

"Don't you question me, you little slut," the madame screeched. "We're under attack an' I need ter go into hiding. Now move up them fuckin' stairs and pack!"

"Bloody hell," Margaret swore, hurrying for the same back door she had been staring at a few minutes earlier. "Come on, Cee. Forget her," she urged, jerking her head towards Syndony. "Come on, we've got ter go!" She and Sarah ran out of the door, desperate to run away from whomever was attacking the pirate town.

"Don't you dare, yer fuckin' cow!" the brothel keeper spat, grabbing Celia's arm and propelling her towards the stairs leading to the main house. "I'll make sure th'only work you would have in this town would be spreadin' yer legs for any bastard ter shag yer, understand?"

"B-but," Celia stammered, tripping up the stairs. "Surely there's no time to pack?"

"If you think I'm leavin' my silk gowns an' jewellery behind, you've got another thing comin'."

"Where are we going?" Celia asked as she pulled a small trunk from a closet and opened the wardrobe.

"Not that trunk, yer stupid bitch! Ya can't fit anything in that! Fer gawds sake, hurry up!" she urged as the sounds of rioting got ever closer. "They'll be here soon."

"Well help me then," Celia snapped. "And I won't be able to carry a larger trunk so this will have to do."

"How dare you talk to me like that!" Syndony shouted, backhanding Celia and sending her flying across the room. "Oh, bloody hell," she swore as heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.

"Well, well, well," growled a fearsome looking man as his eyes scanned the room and took in the two women. "Looks like we're in fer some fun, lads."

"N-no," Celia pleaded as a couple of the half a dozen or so men advanced on her. "P-please, I beg of you…"

"Who's yer captain?" Syndony demanded, picking up a silver candlestick and waving in front of herself in an attempt to ward off the other men. "Who?"

"Davy Stockton," came a voice from the stairs.

"Well order yer men off," the madame insisted. "It's me, Syndony Chester."

"Aye, I thought I recognised th'voice."

Celia gulped as a great bear of a man with a scar running the length of his left cheek, strode into the room, seemingly taking up most of the space. She shrank back, hoping to be forgotten.

"An' who is this, yer handmaid?" the pirate enquired as his eyes raked the curvaceous blonde woman, trying to hide in the corner of the room.

"Of sorts," Syndony shrugged, interested in only her own survival. "So, yer've come ter take over?"

"Nah," Stockton chuckled. "Just take."

"I can show yer where Penhallick keeps his wealth," the dark haired woman announced, slinking over to the captain. "It'll cost yer, mind."

"Oh, aye? What'll it cost me?" Stockton enquired, snaking an arm around her waist. "Yer safety? How safe will yer be when he finds out he's broke, thanks ter you?"

"How will he know?" she shrugged.

"It'll be suss if we leave you here an' take all th'other women of th'town."

"Yer won't catch half of them," Syndony declared with a shrug.

"Nah, I think I'll be takin' both of ya with me, after you show me where Penhallick's fortune is."

"No!" Celia screamed as one of the men grabbed her and pressed his mouth over hers. She struggled in his grasp, managing to snatch a handful of hair and pull hard.

"Yer little whore!" he roared, striking her.

"That's enough!" Stockton ordered. "If she's marked, I won't be able ter sell her, pretty and curvy as she is."

"Oh, but you will," Syndony smirked. "She's a virgin, ain't she?" she announced, looking mocking at Celia. "Fetch a good price fer her, yer will."

"Is she now?" Stockton grinned, a steely glint in his eyes. "Well, we'll have ter make sure yer not molested now, won't we?" he chuckled, nodding for his men to escort the two women from the room.

"What about me?" Syndony urged. "Yer ain't sellin' me, are ya?"

"You, Syn? Perish th'thought," Davy Stockton smiled coldly. "You an' me'll relive old times, eh?"

"Good," Syndony replied, a little uncertainly. "An' afterwards?"

"We'll just have ter see how many new tricks yer've learned since I last had ya."

"Then I'll be safe fer a few years!" she boasted with a hollow laugh as she watched Celia being ushered out of the room.

"Take her to the ship," Stockton ordered his men, looking over Celia once more. "Untouched – or I'll personally cut yer balls off an' feed them to yer. Miss Chester an' I have some business ter attend."

"Aye, Cap'n," his men deferred, knowing their captain would carry out his threat if they went against him.

"Well, that was nice an' easy," Jack grinned as he, Ethan Penhallick and Abraham Curzon toasted their success in an anonymous tavern in Matanzas, some sixty miles down the coast from La Havana, his unease during the chase proved unfounded. They had spent that afternoon in tense negotiations with various other pirates and captains who were not averse to doing business with the trio, before selling the tobacco they had purloined at a better price than they had anticipated.

"Not sure about easy," Abe Curzon grinned, for there had been times during the talks when violence threatened to break out and it was only the presence of some of their bulkiest crewmen, armed to the teeth, that had kept the peace.

"You both comin' back to Tortuga?" Penhallick enquired as he downed his rum and held his beaker up for a refill as a barmaid passed their table.

"I might," Jack confirmed. "Th'men didn't have a very long shore leave an' I don't fancy a mutiny on m'hands."

"Another mutiny, you mean," the pirate king taunted, ignoring the dark look that Jack shot him.

'I'll give you mutiny,' Jack thought broodingly. 'You ungrateful bastard.' "Aye," he grinned which did not quite reach his eyes. "Another mutiny!"

"I'm headin' fer th'Americas," Curzon announced. "Good trade up that way."

"Trade?" Penhallick enquired. "You're not becomin' respectable, are you?"

"Me?" Curzon laughed, the sound drawing attention from all corners of the tavern. "That'll be th'day, but still…"

"It pays ter have fingers in many pies," Jack smiled, winking at his friend.

"I prefer me fingers ter be in some whore, but yeah, pies when it comes ter business."

"Eloquently put," Jack laughed, toasting Curzon.

"We all know where you'd want your fingers, Jack," Penhallick chuckled. "Is she the reason for coming back?"

"No," Jack stated, although he knew it wasn't entirely true. "I told you th'reason. Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I see a woman who is in need of good company." Jack stood and bowed his head to his companions before heading towards a buxom whore who had been giving him the eye for the last ten minutes.

Aggie ran for all she was worth into the hills, which surrounded the pirate town, along with Giselle and a handful of other whores, glancing back every now and then to make sure they weren't being followed. She frowned as she saw a plume of smoke rising and realised it was coming from the direction of Penhallick's mansion. "Celia!" she gasped, stopping in her tracks and going to make back down to the town.

"Don't be bleedin' stupid," Giselle snapped. "There's nothin' yer can do ter help her – from what some of th'others said, Stockton made straight fer th'big house, so she'd have been one of th'first taken. Come on." She grabbed Aggie's arm and dragged her through the undergrowth, cursing as brambles and thorns scratched at her legs. "Gawd, no man's goin' ter want my legs around him, th'state they're in!"

"No man's interested in yer legs," another whore cackled. "Just make sure nothin' else is scratched ter shreds."

"If there'll be any men left in Tortuga after Stockton's had his fun," another one added. "Vicious bastard, from what I've heard."

"Oh, Celia," Aggie lamented. "Gawd, I hope she'll be all right."

"Sorry," Giselle shrugged. "But I doubt she will be."

"I know," the red haired whore sighed. "Maybe she managed ter escape."

"We'll search fer her as soon as he buggers off, eh?" Giselle smiled, trying to make her friend feel better.

"Yes," Aggie nodded. "We will."

Celia shivered violently and tried to move, to no avail. Her captors had literally thrown her into the main cabin of the Sea's Cutlass and had pawed her unmercilessly as they tied her to a stout chair and then left her, locking the door behind themselves, eager to return ashore to cause more mayhem. She gasped with fright as she heard the key turn in the lock.

"So yer made it safely, then?" Davy Stockton sneered as he entered his cabin. "Good. Come on, Syn – yer trunk don't weigh that much, yer lazy cow!"

"It bleedin' does," she protested, dragging a trunk along the deck and into the cabin. Celia noted caustically that it was the same small trunk that she and the madame had argued over before they, or rather, she had been taken captive. "She ain't stayin' here, I hope," Syndony snapped, looking with distaste at Celia tied to the chair.

"I don't know yet, I haven't decided," Stockton sighed. He had forgotten just how much his one-time lover could moan, and not just with passion either. He walked to his prisoner and took out a small, sharp dagger and sliced through the rope binding her to his chair. "Stand up," he ordered, grabbing her by her dress when she was slow to comply. "I don't ask twice," he snarled, hauling her to her feet and pushing his face into hers, his rancid breath making her gag.

"Please, let me go," Celia whispered, her voice cracking with fear and want of a drink.

"You speak when I give you permission," Stockton shouted, shaking her angrily. "Strip off."

"W-wh…" Celia stopped herself just in time, fearful of the man's temper in spite of him proclaiming he did not want her marked. With trembling fingers, Celia began unlacing her dress, tears pouring down her face as she fumbled with the task.

"Fer gawds sake!" the pirate captain snapped, batting her fingers away and undressing her himself, until she stood before him, naked.

Celia burned with mortification and tried to cover herself with her hands, feeling sick at the look of lust in the man's small, beady eyes.

"Yer won't fetch anythin' if you have her," Syndony reminded him, an edge to her voice as she watched Stockton's eyes devour the young virgin standing before him. "Come here and I'll pleasure you better than she could ever imagine." She sashayed over to where he stood and wound herself around him, her thigh rubbing against his straining erection.

"But I would be the first," the pirate rasped, clenching his fists as he fought down the urge to touch Celia, the scar which ran down his face standing out as the blood raced through his veins.

"And then what?" Syn purred in his ear, flicking her tongue across it. "They wouldn't want inexperienced, they'd want untouched… how about you an' me show her what to expect, eh?" she chuckled.

Davy Stockton moaned out loud at the thought of Celia watching as he had Syndony in front of her and went to fetch another rope with which to bind her once more.