A/N: Hello, my lovely readers~ Just a little reminder that these chapters take place during The Coming Storm by Rob Kid and future chapters will be taking place during a few more of the books in the young Jack Sparrow series. And if you're enjoying the story so far, please drop a comment~!
The next day brought with it calm seas, a steady breeze, and cloudless skies. Other than the bit of water that was still sloshing around below deck and our somewhat-tilted mast, we couldn't tell that there had even been a storm the previous day. What was even better, though, was the brown-and-green stripe we could see on the horizon: Land.
What wasn't so good, however, was that we had very little fresh drinking water left. There was enough that we could fill the two waterskins we had, but in order to conserve it, we could only take a small sip at a time. This was a difficult task, considering that it was, once again, quite hot out. But with the wind at our backs and land within sight, our thirst did little to dampen our spirits.
We reached the island—which was quite small, given that it looked to be only a couple miles across—close to sunset. Knowing better than to explore an unfamiliar place so late in the day, we decided to wait until morning to go ashore and, instead, got as close as we could to the beach without running the Barnacle aground. After casting our anchor, the four of us stayed on deck awhile, enjoying the cooling temperatures that night was bringing.
Except, there was one problem.
"How are we supposed to eat our rations without any water?" Fitzy questioned, looking at the piece of hardtack he was holding. Despite being relatively fresh, it was still as hard and dry as a rock. "We have nothing to soak the hardtack in, nor can we break into the salted pork, since we need to soak that in fresh water to make it even slightly edible. In fact, practically all of our food needs fresh water in some form or another in order to be eaten."
"Not necessarily true, mate," Jack said, wiggling his finger in a 'not-so-fast' motion. "You can break up the hardtack an' let it soften up in your mouth quite easily."
Arabella's nose scrunched up. "Are ye insane?" she scolded. "That'd just make us even more thirsty!"
Jack frowned. "What? Plenty o' sailors do that. Aye, it takes a while t' soften, but it eventually happens."
"Yes, sailors who are starving do such things, but we're far from being in that condition," Fitzy retorted, voice as dry as his hardtack.
"Sorry mate, but I don't really think we've got any other choices left t' us."
As they argued over food, I was laying on the railing, my hands tucked behind my head and my bandana pulled down over my eyes to shield them from the sunlight. "Or, if one of you asks nicely, I can go try my hand at catching us some shellfish," I called over. When they fell silent, I lifted my bandana slightly and turned my head to look at them.
"I'm not sure how you would go about doing that, considering we don't have any nets, poles, or bait," Fitzy stated.
"I never said I would be using a pole, net, or bait now did I?" I sat up, pushing my bandana back into place on my forehead. "I said I'd try my hand at catching some shellfish."
Jack snorted and rolled his eyes. "Mate, you might've gotten lucky that one time an' caught yourself a meal, but I highly doubt you could do it again."
"Shellfish are fairly easy to catch with my bare hands. Easier to cook and clean, too."
Fitzy's nose scrunched up. "Please tell me you're not talking about lobster," he said disdainfully. "Crab and clams I could handle, but lobster…?"
"Oh, don't make that face, Fitzy—you've never even tried the stuff!" Jack scolded. "If it's the only food we can get that doesn't need freshwater t' cook, then it's more than suitable." He then looked at me. "Drystan, we would be more than appreciative if you were t' go out an' find us some dinner."
It was Arabella's turn to frown now. "But what if there are sharks?" she questioned. "They could attack ye, Emil!"
"As true as that is, so long as I give them their space, they'll stay away," I answered. I knew this wasn't necessarily true—sharks were inquisitive buggers, after all. But, with luck, any sharks in these shallow waters wouldn't find me to be suitable for eating.
And if any did get too close for comfort, a good bop on the nose would deter them.
Excusing myself for a moment, I went below deck, where, after making sure no one was going to come down after me, I pulled off my shirt. While I kicked my boots off, I made quick work of buttoning up my vest, double checking to make sure that my bindings weren't terribly noticeable. Thankfully, while my vest did conform to my body a bit when fully buttoned, it still was still loose enough to hide the curve of my hips.
When I came back up on deck, I had once again fashioned one of my spare shirts to be a net and I was strapping my boot knife around my forearm. Hearing Jack snort, I glanced over at him. "What's so funny?"
"I'm just surprised you took the time t' change your outfit is all, mate," he snickered.
I shrugged, slipping my shirt-bag through my belt. "I don't want to be weighed down by my boots or have my shirt sleeves floating all over the place." Then, putting on a cheeky grin, I held up my left arm and flexed my bicep. "And, being the most handsome member of this crew, it is my duty to provide Arabella with something attractive to look at once in a while," I joked before climbing onto the starboard railing.
Jack and Fitzy looked as if they couldn't decide between being offended or being amused. Arabella, however, had gone bright red and her eyes had widened.
"I'll have ye know I was not lookin' at ye, ye cad!" she squeaked. "At least, not in that fashion!"
I gave her a cheeky grin before hopping backwards off the railing and plunging into the ocean. As the water enveloped me, I closed my eyes for a few seconds, enjoying how cool it felt after being in the sun for a good portion of the day. Then, knowing I needed to surface, I simply stood up—the water here was barely five feet deep—before taking a deep breath and diving back under.
Nothing terribly exciting happened while I was catching our dinner and, for that, I was thankful. Once I reached the small reef just offshore, it didn't take me long to find some decently sized crabs and lobsters. It was a bit tricky catching them, since I had to avoid their claws, but I did manage to snag two, good-sized crabs for each of us, but only two lobsters. Naturally, the crustaceans didn't appreciate being shoved into a small 'bag' with others of their kind, so they put up quite a fight to get free as I swam back to the boat.
"That didn't take ye very long," Arabella commented when I clamored back onto the deck.
Dropping the 'bag' of dinner onto the deck, I leaned back against the railing. "Didn't need to hunt very long. Prey was quite bountiful in that little bit of reef." I grinned, pushing a lock of hair off my face.
"You were really able to catch something?" Fitzy questioned. His answer came when, as he looked down at the 'bag', he saw it rolling about thanks to the enraged creatures inside.
"Aye, I was. And you don't have to worry your prim and proper little head about eating any lobster—I only got two of those. I managed to catch eight crabs, though."
A small, indignant pout came to Fitzy's lips and he stood up a bit straighter, as if getting ready to defend his honor. Instead, however, he said, "…Yes. Well. Thank you."
After a night of feasting on crab and lobster, we were fairly reluctant to wake up early the next day. And…to be honest, the only one of us who actually rolled out of their hammock in a timely fashion was Fitzy. By the time the rest of us finally dragged ourselves on deck, he had managed to bring up the nearly-empty water flasks and bags without waking the rest of us.
"Bloody hell, it's already a scorcher," Jack murmured, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked at the shore. "Good thing there's plenty o' shade under that jungle canopy, eh?" He looked at the rest of us, a grin on his lips. "Should keep us fairly cool."
"Or it'll leave us sweltering," Fitzy sighed. He wore no vest and had his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow—very undignified of him, but who could blame him with this heat? It made me more than a little happy that I hadn't put my shirt back on under my vest.
"Whatever awaits us under that leafy canopy, we know one thing's for certain: There's water somewhere on this island an' we're goin' t' find it," Jack chirped. He grabbed a couple of the water bags, slinging them over his shoulder. "Now come along, mates—the sooner we find that water, the sooner we'll be able t' rehydrate ourselves, savvy?" Before any of us could say a word, he had hopped over the railing and landed with a splash in the water.
Fitzy was the next to hop in; he had me toss some waterbags down to him before he started to wade to shore. Grabbing my share of the flasks, I followed suit; thanks to the low tide, the water only reached my hips now. I was just about to turn around to offer Arabella a bit of help when she splashed down into the water beside me, her skirt ballooning up around her upper half. I had to cover my mouth to keep myself from bursting out laughing.
Arabella, however, wasn't nearly as amused. Her cheeks turned red in embarrassment and she started trying to push the fabric down so it would soak up a bit of water and sink. It helped, but only a little, as whatever trapped air was left went behind her and kept the back of her dress lifted up.
Seeing her struggle, while admittedly amusing, only made me even more glad I was disguised as a lad. Dresses could be practical at times, but most definitely not while at sea. "I think you're fighting a losing battle, lass," I told her. "It's best to just start heading for shore."
A defeated sigh left her mouth and she nodded. "Aye, yer right…There's too much skirt here t' tame, anyway." She started to make her way towards the shore.
Soon enough, all four of us were on dry land and following Jack as he led us into the brush, using a rusted rapier to cut a path through the dense vegetation. Our quick dip in the ocean soon seemed to have happened ages ago, as the heat of the day was growing more intense. The leather of the flasks and bags we carried didn't help, either; slung over our shoulders, they kept our body heat trapped against us and we were soon sweating like pigs.
I'm not sure how much time had passed when Arabella stumbled forward. Luckily, Fitzy caught her before she could hit the ground. As he set her on her feet, we could see that her face was beet red from the heat and soaked with perspiration.
"Are you alright?" he asked her, his brows furrowed. He, too, was red-faced and sweat soaked.
"A-aye, fine," she said, brushing her skirt off. "Just tripped on a root." She was obviously lying, but we didn't call her out on it.
"Let me take those from you," he said, reaching for the bags she carried. It was probably the fifth time he had told her to hand them over since we started this trek and every time she had refused. "Please, Arabella—if not all of them, then at least one of them. You're too weak to carry all of that in this heat!"
"Oh, Bell," Jack whined from a yard or two ahead of us, "please let him act as your manservant if it's the only way t' shut him up."
She pursed her lips, wanting to refuse but, to my surprise (and bit of relief), she didn't. Instead, she unshouldered the bags she carried and thrust them into Fitzy's arms. "Your mother must be very proud," she grumbled, irritated.
At that, a bit of a dark look passed over Fitzy's face, making my brow rise a bit in curiosity—what had made his mood change so suddenly? He had gotten what he asked for: Arabella's bags. "My mother died when I was nine," he then said. "I can only hope she would be proud of the man I became."
My brow lowered as I learned the reason for his change in mood. 'No wonder he got so serious all of a sudden,' I thought to myself. 'Still. He can't be too upset at her, since none of us knew he was motherless.'
An apologetic look came to Arabella's face as she looked up at him. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she told him, here sincerity genuine. "I didn't know…"
Fitzy looked off into the distance, sorrow lining his face. "It was after she died that my father first started looking into expanding his holdings into the New World." He then shook his head, sighing heavily. "It was as if he wished to cut himself off from England and his old life forever."
"Talk as we walk, mates!" Jack suddenly called back. While the three of us had been standing in place, he had continued to cut a path forward. "Chop-chop! No time t' lose here!"
As we started to follow in Jack's wake, Fitzy continued on with his story. "He married my elder sisters off immediately," he said, "to the sons of people he knew who'd already moved here to the New World. Some of them we had never even met before. Not since we were children, at least." His nose scrunched up slightly and, pausing his story, he stepped off to the side slightly so he could cut down a sapling that would have smacked into his and my faces.
While he did that, I slipped past him and made my way up to Jack. "Get tired o' listening to the sob-stories, did you?" he asked me, his brow rising slightly in amusement.
"Just a little bit," I admitted with a chuckle. "It's a story that's all too familiar to me, given how often it happens."
He quietly snorted. "Let me guess—your sisters were married off t' men they didn't know, too?"
"No, but I did know a few men who uprooted their lives in order to forget the past." Pulling out my cutlass, I started to help him cut a path; it worked out nicely, given that I wielded my sword on the left while Jack wielded his on the right. "But I can only imagine at least one of them will be married off by the time I make it back home."
It had been hot in the morning, when we first entered the jungle. But now that it was past midday and we were surely in the thickest part of the scrub, it was scorching. All four of us were drenched with sweat (which made us smell horrible, mind you) and we almost felt like we were being stewed alive thanks to the humidity. To make things even worse, we had finished off the last of our fresh water, leaving us as parched as the Sahara; Fitzy was even starting to cough thanks to how dry his throat was and Arabella had fallen a few times, though she continued to claim she had merely tripped.
Jack turned to look at us, wearing an obviously forced smile. "It looks like the brush thins out up ahead. It'll be cooler an' shadier up there—we can rest there for a while."
With little energy left to argue, we merely nodded and continued to follow him for about half a dozen more yards. Then, to our complete surprise, we stepped out of the scrub and into a cool, shaded clearing—it was just as Jack said.
What wasn't just as Jack said, however, was the pair of boys in the middle of the clearing; it looked like they were trying to lash some fallen logs together in order to make some sort of raft. They looked over at us in shock, though a smile soon came to one's face while the other remained stoic. The smiling lad stood up and threw out his arms in greetings.
"Honswa and bienvenue!" he declared. "Look what we've got here, Tumen! New friends—And, quite possibly, a way off this island!"
My brows rose in surprise; to say the least, I was not expecting to find a pair of young castaways here.
"Welcome to our deserted island," he continued, giving us a theatric bow. When he stood upright, I saw that he was taller than Arabella, but shorter than Jack. His skin was dark and he had brownish-red curls stuck to the sweat on his forehead; his freckles were the same color. "I am Jean and this is my friend, Tumen."
He motioned over at the stoic lad who merely nodded in reply. Unlike Jean, he was short and had shiny, black hair and tan skin with a sharp nose: A native. It was odd, though—he was dressed in the same sort of clothes as Jean; that is, he was dressed in raggedy sailor's clothing.
Taking a step forward, Jack cleared his throat and set a hand on his chest. "I'm Jack Sparrow," he told the lads. "An' these are Arabella, Fitz, an' Emil." I was, admittedly, surprised he had called me 'Emil' instead of 'Drystan'.
Jean picked something up off a stump and walked over to us; when he held it out, we saw that it was a waterbag, which he offered to Arabella first. "You were caught in the same cursed storm, huh?" he asked, chuckling when Arabella eagerly accepted the bag and began to drink. I found it amusing how he had described the storm, given that that was exactly what it had been. "Tumen and I were aboard the Seraph—though, I'm fairly certain we're the only survivors. The English don't teach their sailors to swim so well."
"That they don't," I snorted. "Even the ones who grew up on the shore can hardly swim."
Arabella threw me a small, scolding look as she wiped a bit of water from her mouth. Looking back at Jean and Tumen, she passed the waterbag to Fitzy and said, "That's terrible, you being the only survivors!"
Shrugging, Jean looked around. "It's pretty hot and not so nice around here," he said. "But this isn't the worst place to have washed up: Coconuts for eating, a freshwater spring up that way—" he motioned to somewhere behind him, "—and plenty of lumber! We're building a raft to try and get back to our home port." He gestured at the jumbled pile of crudely chopped driftwood and coiled lengths of vine.
"There's more water, then?" Fitzy asked, handing the waterbag off to Jack.
Jack, feeling the weight of it, frowned and turned it upside down. Not a single drop was left. Luckily, the next thing Jean told us brought a small grin to his lips.
"There's as much water as you want, my friend! That is, if you do not mind the…ah…the ambience."
I was just about to ask what he meant when Tumen suddenly held up a bone—a bone that looked very much like it had once belong to a human. My brows furrowed and I swore under my breath instead.
The others seemed just as shocked: Jack made a sound that was a mix of shock and disgust; Arabella let out a small, frightened squeak; and Fitzy winced as he covered his mouth slightly.
A faint tingle suddenly came to my fingertips and, a second later, there was an extremely loud hiss. Taken by surprise, Arabella screamed and Fitzy jumped back as an ugly grey cat suddenly leapt into the clearing. It jumped onto a stump, hissing and yowling as it bared its teeth at us.
Jean laughed.
"What in the Greater Antilles is that thing!?" Jack demanded, looking both horrified and offended by the cat's mere existence.
"That is Constance," Jean chirped. He knelt down beside the stump and reached his hand out towards the cat. I was certain he was about to get clawed and bitten to hell, but as he delicately scratched it under the chin, it instantly calmed down.
"You…managed to save that cat along with yourselves?" Jack then questioned, his brow rising. "Why?"
Jean puffed his chest out proudly, not realizing that it just looked silly thanks to his young age. "Constance isn't just a cat," he told us. "She is my sister."
The four of us exchanged wary looks.
"Your…sister?" Fitzy repeated, brow cocked.
Jean nodded. "She is my sister," he stated. "Well…she was. I mean, she is, but she's not like she used to be. See, she's under a curse—one cast by the mystic, Tia Dalma, herself."
So that explained the bit of tingling in my fingertips: A curse. Thank the gods it wasn't Torrents…
"Was the spell cast because she was this vile in her previous incarnation?" Jack questioned. He crouched down slightly, squinting his eyes as he inspected the cat from afar.
"Jack, don't be mean," Arabella scolded. "The poor thing's probably traumatized!" As she reached a hand out towards the creature, Fitzy and I both lunged forward to stop her, but it was too late. There was a blur of grey and she yelped in pain; she now had three bleeding scratches on the back of her hand. She yanked it back in shock, clutching it to her chest. "You little-!"
"Aye, she's definitely nasty," Jack grumbled.
Fitzy shook his head and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "What a little brute," he said, brows furrowed as he offered Arabella the cloth. "Here, Arabella. It's clean."
Jean put his hands on his hips, a frown on his lips. "She's been through a lot," he protested. "Like you said, she's traumatized!"
Shaking his head, Jack also rolled his eyes. "All right, now that everyone's been introduced—at least, I assume we've all been introduced. No nephews turned into rats; no second cousins turned into rabid dogs?" He didn't wait for the others to reply to his sarcasm. "No? Good! Now, would you mind leadin' us t' this spring you mentioned a bit ago?"
To our luck, Jean hadn't taken offense at his words—in fact, he found them more humorous than anything. "With pleasure," he grinned, once again puffing his chest out in pride. "Follow me!"
