Usual disclaimers
Many apologies for not posting this chapter for so long – I'm afraid I lost interest slightly. Hopefully normal service will be resumed and I can think of an ending to it – Ani
…
Chapter Twenty two
Four days later
Jack leaned on the rail of his ship, watching as the port of Saint Marta grew larger in his sight and wondered what they would find this time – if anything. He idly mused whether Celia was indeed right and it was a meaningless journey, but mentally shrugged, grinning as he noticed a number of ships in the harbour. 'If there's nothin' here, there's somethin' here…' he chuckled, casting an expert eye over each ship to see how low in the water they were, how many cannons he considered them to have, and what general state the ship was in. "Rich pickings I reckon," he said aloud to no one in particular.
"Just what I was thinkin', Cap'n," Thomas Frazer, the master gunner, agreed as he joined his captain. "Although I could do with a few more balls an' chain shot."
"You shall have some," Jack nodded, wanting to attack one of the ships already, and sod what they had come here for originally. "Find out who can speak Spanish amongst th'crew, apart from José, of course."
"Aye, Cap'n," the Scotsman grinned as he went eagerly on his errand, itching to feel the pounding of his guns once more.
'I think I'll leave Celia on board this time,' Jack mused. 'I'll go an' tell her…' With a last look at the schooner on the far side of the harbour, Jack pushed himself off the rail and followed in the wake of his gunner.
…
"Oh! Oliver!" Celia exclaimed, as the Irishman stepped out of his cabin as she made her way from the galley where she had been helping Toby prepare for supper. She had mostly managed to stay out of his way for the past few days and knew that he and Jack had not exchanged a single word in all that time.
"Aye, I'm sorry yer had ter see me," he sniped, going to push past her but changing his mind and grabbing her arm, pulling her quickly into his cabin and closing the door.
"Oliver… this isn't…"
"Come with me," he urged, cutting off her words. "We'll steal away from th'ship an' make a life fer ourselves."
"What?" she gasped. "No!"
"No?" Oliver repeated. "What do you mean, no? Are yer frightened of th'cap'n? He won't find us, I'll make sure of that."
"No," Celia cried again, pulling away from him. "I don't want to, I don't want you!"
"Come on, me darlin'," he crooned softly, moving towards her once more. "I can give yer a better life than yer'd have on board. I don't care that he's had yer now… I want yer, an' not just fer that - an' that is all he wants yer for."
"No, Oliver," she stated firmly, backing away towards the door. "No it isn't. Jack wants more than that."
"I don't believe you," Oliver snorted derisively. "We could live an honest life," he insisted, frowning as she moved away from him. "I could find work as a farmer."
"No… I'm s-sorry, Oliver, but I want to stay with Jack."
"You what?" he exploded. "But… what about us – yer can't tell me th'kisses we shared mean nothin' t'yer."
"I… I do like you, Oliver," Celia sighed, "Just… not in that way. I'm sorry."
"Fine!" he snapped, turning on his heel and storming to the door. "If that's th'way yer feel…"
"Oliver!" she cried, running to the door in time to see him storm along the corridor then disappear around the corner, shoving past Elliot Deane, who had been released from the brig along with Gabriel Jennings, the previous day. "Oh, Lord," she groaned, hiding behind the door in case the young crewman saw her and got the wrong idea. 'Now what do I do?' Celia waited until the coast was clear and crept from the cabin, her heart pounding in case she should bump into the Irishman again. 'I wish I could like him as he wants me to,' she thought as she made her way towards the hatch. 'Maybe when Jack gets bored… no, Oliver wouldn't want to be second best and I'm not sure I could feel that way for him anyway. Damn you, Jack Sparrow, for having such a hold on me.'
"Celia, luv! I've been lookin' everywhere fer you."
"Jack!" she breathed, grateful for the dimness of the corridor so he could not see her blush. "I-I think I must have taken a wrong turn," she lied, smiling at him and hoping that he would not see through her.
"I think it might be best if yer stay on board this time, eh? We're not goin' ter be raidin' anywhere this time, not that we did last time," he sighed, rolling his eyes at the missed opportunity in Saint Georges, "but I don't want you ashore in case there is any trouble, savvy?"
"You won't get any argument from me," she declared with relief. "But what about if there's something in the churchyard?"
"Frazer will draw it an' if needs be, you can come an' have a look yerself, if it's safe."
"All right," Celia nodded, threading her arm through his as they walked along.
"Gettin' quite bold, aren't we, Miss Hammond?"
"Oh… I-I'm sorry," she stammered, snatching her hand away, her head reeling in confusion.
"Eh? I was only teasin' yer daft mare!" Jack chortled, taking her hand and placing it back in the crook of his arm. "One day…" he sighed ruefully.
"O-one day, what?"
"You'll trust me."
"I'm sorry, Jack," Celia whispered, still trying to cope with what had happened with Oliver, without having to deal with Jack's teasing as well. "It will take time…"
"You all right, luv?" Jack stopped and peered at her, pulling her into the shaft of light streaming from the hatch so he could see her more clearly and frowning when she avoided his gaze. "Celia…?"
Celia floundered for a moment, trying desperately to come up with some excuse – the last thing she wanted was another argument, or worse, between Jack and his helmsman. "I-I suppose I'm a little tired," she eventually replied, the blush that crept across her face once more giving credence to her words.
"Heh! I'll have ter make sure you get some sleep tonight then, eh? But not too much…"
"You are an incorrigible rouge," she scolded without malice.
"Aye, an'proud of it!" Jack boasted as they climbed the steps to the main deck. "I'll get Gibbs ter stay behind fer first watch – keep an eye on you."
"Jack! I don't need keeping an eye on."
"I'd rather you had," he shrugged, not telling her the real reason was that he wanted an eye kept on Oliver Fernan, who was staying on board due to his injury. His quartermaster had had a word with the tall Irishman and assured Jack that Oliver would not be causing any trouble, but that did not quell the unease in Jack's mind and he vowed to watch his helmsman carefully – very carefully.
…
"Yer sure yer up ter being ashore?" Gabriel Jennings enquired as Oliver caught them up on the quayside. "Yer were stabbed only a few days ago."
"It's a mere scratch," the Irishman snarled crossly, walking ahead of his friends in order to lose them, or at least not face any more questions.
"What's with 'im?" Elliot pondered quietly as he fell into step with Gabriel. "Ain't ever seen him in a foul mood."
"It's her, ain't it?" Adam Butler chipped in as a group of men walked along the docks, eager to find a tavern, but also keen to be the one to find out about what sort of cargo the schooner may be carrying, as their captain had instructed them to do, discreetly. "He's got it bad fer her but knows 'e can't 'ave her."
"Aye, true enough," Elliot shrugged, the first words he had said to his crewmate since being released from the brig.
"If yer've all finished talkin' about me?" Oliver exploded, rounding on the crew. "It's none of anybody's damned business!"
"Whoa! Pardon us," Adam jeered. "Ya should've know better than ter go after th'cap'n's missus."
Oliver grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him hard against a wall, his face twisted into an angry snarl. "It is none of yer fuckin' business, Butler, or any of yer," he growled, shoving his crewmate to one side and storming off in the opposite direction.
"I'll kill 'im!" Adam Butler yelled, making to go after the Irishman.
"Leave it," Jacob Sumner implored, placing himself between the two irate pirates. "Th'cap'n'll throw both of yer in th'brig fer fightin'. Come on, we all need a drink, even if Mouse doesn't."
"Nah, we know what Mouse needs," Elliot chuckled, nudging Gabriel Jennings next to him.
"Yer'll be gettin' a fist in th'gob if yer ain't careful," Jacob warned the younger man. "Mine…"
"Sorry," Elliot replied sarcastically, pulling a face behind the watchman's back. "Bleedin' hell, ain't anybody in a good mood today?"
"Ask me when I've had a few ales inside me," Gabriel quipped, drawing laughter and agreement from his mates. "Here, this place'll do us," he announced, steering them all towards a tavern lying back from the main street. "Remember what th'cap'n said – discreet, savvy!"
…
"What d'yer make of it, Cap'n?" Thomas Frazer mused as they all looked at the gravestone, which was carved in exactly the same way as Rebecca Goodluck's had been in Saint Georges.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Jack shrugged, tugging at his beard braids as he thought. "Maybe we do need Celia, eh?"
"Shall I go an' fetch her, Cap'n?" José Santos offered.
"Nah, I'll go myself. Yer can go an' have yer leave now – an' don't forget…"
"Aye, ask around about th'ships in th'port," Noah Trinity grinned as he and his mates made their way from the churchyard, leaving Jack standing alone, staring at the stone.
'This won't help you work it out,' he thought, shaking himself from his reverie and starting towards the gate, stopping dead again as he spotted Oliver Fernan walking down the lane leading away from the town. 'Now, where in th'world are you goin'?" Jack hurried along the path and carefully opened the gate in case it squeaked and crept along the street, keeping close to the buildings in case he needed to dart into a doorway to save from being discovered. He had to run as he saw his helmsman turn into an alleyway and hoped that he would not lose him. 'Is he visitin' a whore?' he pondered as he peered around the corner and pulled a face at the empty alley. 'Nah… not his style.' Jack dashed down the short alley, cursing himself for losing the Irishman and he prayed that he'd find him again and discover where it was his crewman was heading.
"Why are yer followin' me, Cap'n?"
'Bugger!' "I'm not… all right, maybe I was," Jack admitted with a shrug as Oliver stepped out from a doorway halfway down the alley. "I just wondered why you weren't on ship an' where you were goin'."
"I'm on shore leave, therefore it ain't any of yer concern where I'm goin'," Oliver snapped, turning away.
"You may be on shore leave but I'm still yer captain an' you don't talk ter me like that," Jack frowned, putting his hands on his hips and glaring his crewman. "You seem ter know where you're headin'…"
"I fancied a walk in th'hills," the Irishman retorted, nodding his head towards the hilly countryside on the outskirts of town. "Is that all right with yer?"
"Fernan," Jack warned. "Talk ter me like that again…"
"An' yer'll what? Throw me in th'brig? That'll endear ya ter Celia, won't it?" he sneered, turning his head and glowering at his captain. "Tell me, how long b'fore yer become bored with her, hmm? How long b'fore she regrets givin' herself t'yer - at least I care about her!" Oliver exploded.
"An' I don't?" Jack enquired, the evenness of his voice belied by the coldness of his tone. "She doesn't want yer, Fernan. She never did, savvy?"
"Liar! Yer coerced her into givin' herself t'yer, ya wheedled yer way into her affections, an' as soon as yer've had yer fun, yer'll cast her off like a torn sail. Well I'll be waitin'," the Irishman promised, taking a step towards his captain. "I'm a patient man that truly cares fer Celia – I'll wait an' mend her broken heart."
"Th'way you're goin', yer won't be on board long enough ter see if I break her heart or not," Jack growled, also taking a step closer to the bigger man.
"Yer goin' ter throw me off? Ha! I'd like ter see ya explain that ter her, an' th'crew."
"I am captain therefore my word is law, savvy?"
"Yer captain of a pirate ship, therefore we can vote yer off if we see fit, savvy?" Oliver mocked.
"Are you threatening mutiny, Fernan?" Jack barked, his face dark with fury. "Eh? Or are yer all mouth an' no breeches?"
"I ain't threatening mutiny – just remindin' ye that yer word ain't law."
"I can still throw you off th'ship an' believe me, you're gettin' even closer to it."
"Yer just lookin' fer an excuse ter be rid of me," Oliver retorted, "just in case she sees through yer an' realises she wants me."
"Why don't you get it into yer thick skull? She does not want you – she told me herself. She sees you as a brother type figure an' nothin' more."
"No! No, she doesn't. She kissed me!"
"She what?" Jack growled, advancing once more on his crewman. "She kissed you… or did you kiss her?"
"I kissed her an' she reciprocated," the tall Irishman replied scornfully. "Didn't know that, did yer, Cap'n?"
"It doesn't alter th'fact that she wants me – that she actually told me that she wants me, so you can either go an' screw another woman an' forget her, or you can leave th'ship."
"Yer'll make me leave anyway," he snorted, turning his back once more as he tried to hide the turmoil raging inside.
"You know I won't. You're th'best helm I've ever seen, an' th'rest of th'crew like yer… an' yes, Celia would take it badly. But then' I'd be able ter comfort her, eh?" Jack taunted, not able to resist the dig.
"You…" Oliver spun on his heel quick enough to make Jack reach for his dagger but not pull it from its sheath. "Yer a bastard, Captain Sparrow. I love Celia but th'only person yer care about is yourself. What Jack Sparrow wants, Jack Sparrow gets, eh?"
"Which is why I'm th'most successful pirate captain in th'Spanish Main, even if I'm not th'most fearsome. You've never complained about my captaincy before."
"You've never seduced an innocent young girl before."
"Ah, an' if you'd had yer way with her, that would've been different, eh? How?"
"Because I love her! Because I would cherish her an' not treat her as a plaything." Oliver reeled as the blow from Jack's fist sent him flying backwards.
"You're not th'only one who cares about her, Fernan! Why do you think we sailed ter Port-au-Prince when I didn't even know if she was alive, if she'd been raped or anythin', hmm? Why do you think I ordered you an' Jennings ter destroy th'church in Tortuga? Ter stop her from puttin' herself in danger? Why do you think I keep her on board, even though I know she doesn't like it? Because I fuckin' care about her as well!" Jack shouted, clenching and uncleching his fists as he spoke. "An' not because she was a virgin, either!" He fished in an inside pocket of his coat before pulling out a leather pouch and slinging it at his crewman. "Here – this should cover yer purse an' reimburse you for your belongings."
"Yer not forcin' me off th'ship! Oliver yelled, moving towards Jack again and wincing as his wound tugged at him, bringing him up short. "I'll round up th'crew an' yes, I will lead a mutiny!"
"I won't allow that," Jack stated, shaking his head. "I can't allow that!" He aimed a blow at Oliver's ribs, not so low as to damage the stab wound further, but low enough to double the larger man over and then he balled his fists, smashing them into the back of his neck, knocking him out cold. "Sorry, Mouse," Jack sighed with regret. "But if you stay on board, one of us'll wind up dead…" He picked up the leather pouch, which had gone flying as Oliver fell and tucked it down the front of the Irishman's breeches so that it blended with the natural bulge, and stood there, trying to decide what to do. He looked along the alleyway and spotted what looked like a derelict building just down from where the stricken man lay, so bent down and slid his hands beneath Oliver's shoulders and dragged him to the building, panting with the effort as he hoisted him inside. "Damn, but yer heavy," he muttered, wiping his brow with the end of his bandana once they were inside, then took off his hat and unwound the red sash from his head and cut it in half using his dagger, tying first Oliver's hands and then his feet together. With a last glance down at the unconscious man, Jack put his hat back on his head and strode from the building and back along the alleyway.
'Now where would be th'best place…?' Jack mused to himself as he reached the end of the alley and looked along the street, fervently hoping that he would not bump into any of his crew. He grinned shrewdly as he saw a man leading a horse and cart down the street and walked forward, approaching him with open arms and a wide smile. "Señor, usted querría ganar algún dinero?" (Sir, would you like to earn some money?)
"Hacer qué?" (doing what?) the Spaniard enquired, eyeing Jack suspiciously. "Y cuánto?" (And how much?)
Jack checked his pockets, inside and out before pulling out two peso's and showing them to the man, whose eyebrows shot up as he looked at Jack with renewed light.
"Si," the man nodded eagerly. "What do you want doing?"
Jack led him down the alley, hoping that they were not drawing too much attention, but glancing around, no-one seemed to be taking any notice of them whatsoever. He stopped outside the building and peered in, relieved to see Oliver still unconscious and beckoned the man inside, holding his hands out to show he meant no harm as the Spaniard hesitated. "I want you to take him in your cart as far away as you can travel," he informed him in his native tongue. "But he is not to be harmed."
"That is all?" the man asked incredulously. "Just take him away for two peso's?"
"That is all," Jack grinned, pressing the coins into his hand. "Let's get him aboard. Your word he will come to no harm?"
"I do not harm people unless they want to harm me," the Spaniard shrugged, lifting Oliver's feet as Jack took his shoulders. Between them, they hoisted the stockily built man onto the cart and covered him over with sackcloth.
"Gracias," Jack smiled, clasping his hands together and bowing his head, sighing regretfully as the cart started to move away. 'Pity,' he mused, a frown creasing his brow. 'Bloody good helmsman… now ter break th'news…'
…
"Cap'n! Bloody hell, we've looked all over fer ya," Thomas Frazer exclaimed, as he and Josia Phelps entered the run down tavern and spotted their captain sitting at the bar and nursing a mug.
"An' now you've found me," Jack sniped, not looking round. "What do you want?"
"We've discovered what yer wanted ter know, like – 'bout th'ships, an' all," the master gunner explained quietly, exchanging glances with his mate at their captain's mood.
"Good fer you," Jack retorted, downing the contents of his mug in one and slamming it on the counter, indicating for another to be brought.
"Erm… d'yer want me ter arrange th'shot yer promised me?" the Scotsman asked hesitantly. He had met up with Myles Burford a few minutes previously and the helmsman had told him about Oliver Fernan's bad temper earlier that day and he wondered if the two men's moods were coincidental or not. He suspected not.
"Aye." Jack waved his hand. "I'll trust it ter you…"
"I… erm, need some money ter pay fer it…"
"Here," Jack threw a few coins at his crewman and waved his hand again, hoping this time the two men would take the hint and leave him alone.
"Thankee, Cap'n," Thomas deferred, scurrying out of the tavern with Phelps following quickly behind. "Bloody hell!" he muttered. "Must be somethin' in th'air around here."
"More like somethin' in th'cabin on board," Josia mused, arching an eyebrow at his crewmate.
"Hmm," the gunner agreed as they both made their way to where they had seen a munitions store.
'Come on, Jack,' he chided himself some time later. 'Can't sit here gettin' drunk an' puttin' it off any longer.' With a deep sigh, Jack stood and weaved his way unsteadily across the floor of the tavern, wondering if Oliver had woken yet and whether they would make sail before he had chance to wake and find his way back to Saint Marta. 'Let's just hope th'farmer lives far away, eh?' he thought wryly as he opened the door and took in the fresher air outside in an attempt to sober himself up and he slowly made his way to the quayside, trying to work out the best way to break the news to the men about their crewmate, and worst of all to Celia, whom he suspected liked the Irishman more than she admitted.
…
"Is everythin' in order, Mister Gibbs?" Jack barked as he climbed on board his ship, scanning the decks for any sign of Celia and not being sure whether he was glad or disappointed when he did not spot her.
"Aye, Captain," the quartermaster confirmed. "Th'change of watch is in a half turn and then th'rest of th'men can have their leave." He had been filled in on events ashore by various men and had been half dreading his captain's return to the ship, but to his surprise, Jack was not as inebriated as he had thought that he would be, although his mood seemed as dark as Frazer and Phelps had told him it was.
"Very well. Send Celia ter my cabin an' keep yer eye on th'schooner. I noticed activity on th'dock's by where she's berthed..."
"Aye, we'd noticed it too," Gibbs nodded. "They might be leaving sooner than we thought."
Jack stopped, frowning as he pondered something, then turned back to the portly man. "Postpone leave fer an hour or so – promise th'men extra grog ter sweeten them."
"All right," Joshamee sighed, knowing the decision would not go down well, but seeing the reason for it nonetheless. "Go and fetch Celia," he instructed Peter Swain as he watched Jack make his way to his cabin and wondered if there were going to be any ructions on board, as there appeared to have been ashore.
"Miss Celia? Th'cap'n wants you in his cabin," the ship's lad informed her with a toothy grin as he peered around the doorway of the galley.
"Right away?" she asked, wondering if she was to leave the potatoes and go immediately.
"Aye, I reckon so."
"All right," Celia sighed, drying her hands on her breeches and following the youngster along the gloomy corridor.
Jack paced his cabin, wondering what to say to the young woman, whether to confront her or just keep quiet. He still felt a mixture of anger and regret bubbling inside him at the argument between himself and his helmsman. 'You can't let Celia see your anger,' he thought. 'It's not her fault… although I still reckon she likes him more than she says… maybe Fernan was right, maybe she was… is afraid of me…' Jack sighed heavily and yanked the cabin door open in time to see the object of his desire emerge from the hatch.
"Ah, Celia! Miss us?" he teased as he walked over to her, his anger dissipating as he looked at her. "Or was it just me yer missed?"
"You've been gone a long time," she fretted. "I was worried in case there was more trouble."
"I told you there wouldn't be, besides, I left enough crew ter sail th'ship out if necessary."
"That's not the point!" Celia frowned, blushing as she realised her admission in front of the crew.
"Ah," Jack chuckled, throwing his arms wide, circling his wrists and leaning towards her. "So yer do care?"
"Did you find anything in the churchyard?" she sighed, quickly changing the subject before she embarrassed herself further.
"Aye, Miss Celia," Thomas Frazer told her, breaking away from instructing his gunnery crew where to store the ball, chain and grape shot that he had purchased. "A headstone engraved exactly th'same as th'one in Saint Georges, with this…" he handed her a piece of paper with a drawing of rope with a snakes head. "Any ideas?"
"No," she frowned. "What was the name of the person who's grave it was?"
"Allport," Jack put in. "Roy Allport. Ring any bells?"
"None," Celia replied absently as she continued to study the drawing. "Although this could indicate Saint Paul.
"Cap'n! Looks like th'schooner's makin' ready ter sail. "They're stockin' up," Matthias Swain announced from his watch position. Celia looked anxiously from the paper to Jack, closing her eyes in despair as she read his intentions in his eyes.
"Looks like we stock up elsewhere," Jack chuckled wryly, his earlier mood and worry temporarily forgotten as he realised they would be leaving the port a lot sooner than anticipated.
"Aye – that schooner!" Thomas cackled, rubbing his hands with glee, looking sideways at his captain and thankful that his earlier bad humour seemed to have passed.
"S-shall I go to the cabin now?" Celia enquired, trying to muster up some courage to face what she knew would be coming.
"Not yet – unless yer want to?" Jack grinned, his mind fully on the schooner and nothing else.
"Peter said you wanted to see me?" she pressed, wondering why he had ordered her up there.
"Eh? Ah, yes. Doesn't matter – not important," he replied airily, wishing he could risk looking more closely at the schooner with his spyglass, but not daring to in case someone on board the other ship noticed and their cover would be blown.
"So you don't want me?" Celia retorted crossly. "You brought me up here for nothing?"
"Sorry, luv," Jack shrugged absently. "See yer later."
"You infuriating, aggravating, annoying…" she hissed under her breath, clenching and unclenching her fists as she walked back to the hatch, looking at him as she went to go down and finding the corners of her lips twitching as she wryly thought how typical of Jack it was. 'Only you could make those traits almost attractive,' she mused, shaking her head ruefully. 'Curse you, Jack Sparrow…'
"Cap'n! What about Mouse – he's not aboard!" Myles Burford called across the deck.
"Don't worry about Mouse," Jack sighed heavily. "He's left th'ship."
"What? The helmsman gasped, looking down at his captain on the main deck from his position at the helm. "Left th'ship?"
"Aye, I'll fill yer all in later," Jack evaded vaguely. 'When we're far enough away that he can't catch up.'
"H-he's left?" Celia cried, turning away from the hatch and walking back over to Jack. "How do you know?"
"I bumped into him," Jack replied gently, hoping that she would not press further and force him to lie to her, but at the same time knowing that it was a hopeless wish.
"W-what did he say?" Celia pressed, struggling against the tears. 'I've forced him from the ship,' she thought to herself. 'Oh, no!'
"Not a lot," Jack shrugged, a knot of unease growing in his stomach. "Don't fret yourself, eh?"
"Jack… I…"
"Later, Celia," he told her. "It can wait 'til later, eh?"
"All right," she frowned, making her way back to the hatch, hurt at both the news and the curt dismissal by Jack.
…
