Chapter 01: 1739 - Questions and Answers
The days flew by while the crew worked tirelessly to repair the damage carried away by the "Black Pearl" during her years as a cursed ghost ship - and with each new day everyone on board understood more and more why the captain was so infatuated with his ship:
She was a beauty and seemed to have a 'mind' of her own...
Joshamee Gibbs and Gerrit van Dijk oversaw the repairs with eagle eyes, while Jack was calculating the various routes by which they might best get to Madagascar without risking unwelcome encounters with either the English or the Spanish.
When he was not poring over the charts with his extraordinary compass, he spent the days tidying up the little cottage and its garden high up on the cliffs, and the nights burying himself in books and notes, which he dug out of innumerable boxes and caskets, and which seemed to represent an immense treasure to him.
The evening before they were about to set sail as planned, van Dijk found him sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace:
Books and maps piled around him and between every sip of rum from one of the bottles at his side, gulping down bites of freshly baked pancakes, while he seemingly had forgotten everything around him.
The Dutchman watched him curiously for a while, with a mild smile on his lips, before clearing his throat and commenting: "You do know that you should be at the helm of your ship in a few hours, don't you? Of course I could also take it upon myself to sail your 'Pearl' to Madagascar, but I have a vague feeling your ship would enjoy it more if you were the one trying it."
Without really responding to van Dijk's remark, Jack held out the plate of pancakes: "One too? If not, crouch somewhere and keep me company, if you don't mind me burying myself in my books a little longer."
Van Dijk didn't need to be told that twice. He grabbed one of the bottles, rolled up one of the pancakes, and sat down on the floor next to Jack, fascinated by the books lying around: "An impressive collection you have there lad! But I assume you didn't collect them yourself?"
Jack shook his head: "I inherited all this and I'll throw anyone overboard who dares lay a hand on it."
"That's understood!" The Dutchman grinned: "And that's when the saying 'knowledge is a treasure' really has meaning."
"Fascinated?"
"In a way!"
"Good!" Jack smirked and added: "Since you're just sitting here killing my time, how about you answer a few more questions about the adventure that lies ahead?"
"Depends on the questions and whether I can get another of your pancakes or not..."
"Just help yourself!"
Thus primed, with rum and rations, van Dijk turned his full attention to Jack, who, evidently in his thoughts and not quite on point, asked him: "Apart from Brasiliano and 'Spitfire', who else are among the Coast Captains of Madagascar?"
"When Gibbs and I had the dubious pleasure of enjoying the hospitality of the Coast Captains, Brasiliano and the redhead were the only ones we saw but I know from hearsay that there are at least five of them."
"Five, then," Jack mused: "Hmm... A risk I'll have to take, I'm afraid."
Van Dijk took a deep breath, then he said in a tone half concerned, half resigned: "All right, lad! Out with it! For days, no, actually for weeks, are you already avoiding telling anyone anything about this adventure in Madagascar and what it's all about that you're dying to meet that girl, 'Spitfire'. You told me she has some connection with the girl you say you're madly in love with."
He gently touched his young friend's shoulder and then asked: "The girl you seem to love so much - does she have anything to do with this?"
The Dutchman pointed to the scar, the "P" on Jack's forearm, which had become visible under the slipped cloth bracelet he used to wrap around it, and without realising it himself at first he covered it with his other hand.
Van Dijk was taken aback by this reaction. All the more so now that a pair of soft dark eyes fixed on him, from which all lightheartedness seemed to have vanished: "Jack?"
The one so addressed blinked and replied: "You remember what I told you about the scars on my back and that 'P' back then?"
Van Dijk just nodded, still shocked after all these years by what he had seen and heard back then, and Jack went on: "The man who did these things to me is the same who destroyed my life so thoroughly that I have nothing left. Neither my life, nor my ship, nor the prospect of ever being able to lead a simple life again." He heaved a deep sigh, before he added in an almost soundless voice: "Not the woman I love, or even the slightest hope of ever seeing her again..."
"But didn't you just say..."
"Van Dijk," Jack locked eyes with the older man's: "one can still be madly in love with a woman even after death..."
As soon as he got this over his lips, Jack started telling the whole story to the Dutchman, and van Dijk became more silent with every moment and with every new sentence he heard. He had expected much, but after hearing from Jack what that Englishman, that Lord Beckett, had done to him, he understood why his young friend seemed so withdrawn at times, and so unwilling to trust anyone enough to let them get close...
By the time Jack had reached the end of his story, the new morning was already beginning to dawn.
Well aware that they did not have much time left to board the "Pearl" at the appointed time, they began to put the valuable maps and books back in their chests and caskets, and then put out all the lights and the fire in the fireplace, locked the windows and doors of the little cottage, and set off down to the bay.
As they descended the narrow path to the small settlement and boats at the pier, van Dijk remarked: "I'm aware that I might risk my friendship with you, if I tell you what I'm going to tell you now, my lad, but no matter what, I've got to get that out before you go looking for 'Spitfire'..."
"Are you talking in riddles again, van Dijk?" Jack was all himself again and it amused him to hear the Dutchman beat around the bush.
"Not really, but I want to save you from a great stupidity!"
"How's that?"
"You shouldn't get too caught up in the idea of winning over 'Spitfire' for you. You could pretty much burn your fingers doing this..."
"Van Dijk," Jack stopped and turned to the Dutchman: "remind me of never telling you stories again. It seems to me that you're coming up with the most absurd ideas! What makes you think I want to win 'Spitfire' over for me?"
"Well, as you say yourself, she is the cousin of the woman you love..."
"Ah, I understand! And now you think I'm so desperate that I'm dying to find another Stevens so as not to throw myself into the sea out of sheer grief to drown myself, eh?"
"Not quite your style, I would say..."
"It's not?"
"Not really!" Van Dijk grinned and added: "But before you throw me off the cliffs: What's that bargain about you struck with Davy Jones?"
"Of what importance could that be for you, van Dijk?"
Jack didn't seem particularly willing to discuss the bargain he once struck with Jones, especially as he was in the know that the delay the eerie captain had granted him was about to run out, and that the time he had left to get rid of this unpleasant bargain slipped through his fingers like sand through an hourglass.
"Well," van Dijk looked him straight in the face: "I might know how you can get out of that accord..."
From one moment to the next, Jack was wide awake: "How?"
"I will not claim that everything I have heard about the legend of Jones and his 'Flying Dutchman' is true, but I am convinced there is a great deal of truth in this one, as in every myth. And since you are a daring and courageous young man, I trust you above all others to be able to get behind the secret Jones' legend is said to feed on. In my home country it has been said for many years that Jones' cruelty and the curse upon him stem from a spurned love for a woman who betrayed him. It goes on saying that, disappointed in her and unwilling to endure his feelings for her any longer, he cut his heart out and locked it in a chest, which is now said to be buried somewhere on an island in the Caribbean. Do you believe the old stories so there is supposedly only one way to successfully overcome Jones..."
"What does that mean?" Jack's curiosity was already boiling over: "Must I search for the heart to get me out of Jones' clutches?"
"It's not that simple, Jack! To defeat Jones you need the heart. If you want to find the heart, you need the chest wherein it is kept. But, of course, it is locked, and to open it..."
"...I need a key?"
"Exactly, my lad! I knew you were smart enough to understand what you would have to do."
"But there are many keys," Jack pointed out: "And I don't have enough time left to find and try out each and every one. As long as I don't know where I have to look for the key, even knowing about it isn't of much use to me."
"There are rumours, Jack! About a man sitting in a dungeon somewhere around the Mediterranean who is said not to age. He is said to tell tangled tales of the sea, the sea goddess, and other strange things. No one knows how long he's been sitting in his cell, but some claim that he has already spent several decades in this dungeon without being affected by time. If there is anyone who can help you, it is this man. However, the question will not be whether he can or wants to help you, but whether you will be able to find him..."
Jack grinned and his grin grew wider the longer he listened to the Dutchman: "Don't rack your brain over this, van Dijk. I assure you that finding the dungeon and cell where this mysterious stranger is being held will be the easiest part of the quest. But this can wait until we'll have left Madagascar behind us. Then we have leisure to think about the Mediterranean and about how to successfully break into a dungeon, get a prisoner to tell us his secrets, and successfully break out of the same dungeon. Savvy?"
