Many thanks to reviewers Telcontar Rulz, willabeth0906, and AKA Parfait!! I love reading your comments!
Chapter 12:Turning Fortunes
Elizabeth strode off the Orient's Lady with a heavy heart. Another dead end. The frigate was neat but poorly crewed and it would take almost three weeks for them to reach Boston. Charles tried to be optimistic, for her sake, but none of the kindly meant words did anything to cheer her.
"One more prospect lies just over there." Charles pointed to a long, sleek vessel named the Dragon Spirit. "It is a sloop that runs near the orient but, I am told, it will deposit a load in Boston next week. Shall we speak with the Captain?"
"Yes, please." Elizabeth tried to keep her eyes as bright and hopeful as his but they were slowly dimming. Letting him take the lead, she walked slowly, gaze falling on the busy wharf but not really taking in anything.
A racket to her left caused her to turn and see a pile of barrels fall from an unattended cart onto the dirt road and, sustaining enough momentum, towards the main street of Nassau.
"What on earth…" Charles began, taking a few steps forward in the direction of the queer mishap.
Elizabeth, too, was oddly intrigued. Was that a bit of red? Silently, she rounded the corner to see Jack Sparrow crouched behind the now empty cart, tensed and just about to spring away.
Daring a glance behind her shoulder, Elizabeth saw Charles hollering something and directing a group of sailors to run after the escaped alcohol. "Jack!" she hissed at the barely hidden figure, over the commotion flying rum barrels had induced.
Jack did not hear or refused to acknowledge her call.
"Jack!!" she repeated, a hair louder.
He spun this time to see her standing next to him.
"It is you!" She was so enlivened by the chance to finally get to Will that she flung her arms 'round the pirate captain's neck and hugged him.
"Um, Elizabeth, love, cool it." Jack pried himself loose. "I'd love to stay and chat but now that I've found you, the bloody whelp won't have me heart on a platter and instead I can leave peaceful-like. So, if you'll excuse, pardon, acquit, absolve, bloody exonerate me. I'll be heading to me ship." He spoke this all in a matter of moments and whirled to depart when Charles, having finally organized a recovery party for the rum, spoke up.
"I say, Elizabeth, do you know this man?" He sounded angry and indignant.
Elizabeth, who was still grasping the idea that Jack's vocabulary was that large, stammered, "I-I met him…a few years ago…"
A cluster of sailors gathered around Jack, Elizabeth, and Charles, trapping them in a tight circle of bodies.
"This man is responsible for ruining some of my father's prize rum!" Charles' eyes were smoldering in fury.
"Your father, aye? So the ole coot did settle down, did he?" Jack eyes froze on the barrel of a gun stuffed under his nose. "As it were…" he added meekly.
"How do you know my father?" Charles demanded.
"Through a series of unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable circumstances I 'appened to run into 'im."
At the young man's confused stare, he elaborated, "Literally."
"When?"
"A while back."
Charles took another route of questioning. "What is your name?"
"I've a lot of names, which one will you be wantin' to know?"
"You are Jack Sparrow, aren't you?"
"That could be technically be one of me monikers."
"You were the one that almost ruined my father's business five years ago! Not to mention pilfering the trunk containing my wife's wedding gown! She cried for weeks at that loss." Charles stuck his pistol further into Jack's face. "I should kill you now."
"Charles," Elizabeth chose that moment to intervene. "Please, you don't know what you are doing. Let him go."
"Elizabeth, this does not concern you."
"Yes, I'm afraid it does."
"Knew you'd warm up to me." Jack smirked.
"Shut up, Jack." Elizabeth gently laid her hand over the gun barrel. "This man saved my life last year. I cannot let you kill him now."
Charles looked back and forth from her to the pirate captain. "He is a criminal, Elizabeth. It is my duty as a citizen of Nassau to turn him in to the proper authorities."
"While I can respect that, Charles, surely there is some way for him to repay you that does not involve blasting a hole in his forehead."
"I second that..." Jack was about to continue but seeing Elizabeth's icy glare fell silent.
"He has the fastest vessel in the Caribbean. I can barter passage with him and get to Will without causing you any additional trouble." She reasoned.
Charles appeared scandalized by the idea. "Elizabeth! He is a pirate!"
"And a good man."
"But you cannot possibly mean to tell me-"
"Sir, you have been most kind and generous, however, I will be leaving with this man and I would appreciate him alive and well."
Charles gaped at her for a full minute before removing the firearm and replying. "I understand. But I would have this scoundrel repay me for the damaged goods both today and five years ago."
"I'll jus' fetch me gold an'-"
Charles laid a firm hand on Jack's shoulder. "Not so fast Sparrow. What I require is not so easily attained as silver or gold."
"What might you require," The pirate lingered for second then put in, "your lordship…"
"I insist that you relay a boat load of supplies to the American rebels near Santiago and then an associate of mine down in Guadalupe. You tell me you retain control over the fastest ship in the Caribbean, let us see you put some weight behind your words."
"In principle, it was your darling friend Elizabeth that said that."
"And you would disagree with her?"
"No!"
"Then do we have an accord?"
Jack looked at Charles' outstretched hand as one would look at foul water (or in Jack's case, rum). Slowly, he extended his own brown hand and shook the other's lightly.
"Your debt with me will be dissolved the moment those supplies reach Santiago then Guadalupe and the money given in full to a colleague of mine there." Charles gave a grim smile.
"A colleague?"
"Yes, a man by the name of Henry Jones. Have you heard of him?"
Jack winced. "I have."
"The port in St. Augustine will be heavily guarded."
"But when has that ever stopped Cap'n Jack Sparrow, mate, think abou' it." The pirate's previous unease dissipated.
"Very well. I release you, Sparrow, on Miss Elizabeth's request and the promise that you will in fact take those supplies."
"I'll jus' be off then." Jack whirled to leave and once more was restrained.
Charles laughed dryly. "Sparrow, you didn't think I'd really let you go now? Do you think me so dense?"
Jack held up a finger with a fat oriental ring perched on it. "Would that be a rhetorical ques'ion?"
Charles pointedly ignored him. "You will show us where your ship is berthed, watch while we load her with the supplies, and then you will sail immediately to Santiago and Guadalupe. And if those supplies never make it, I will make your life hell, am I understood?"
"Perfectly." Jack half smiled, half grimaced.
Three weeks flew by as the three young women cared for Will in their barn. They smuggled him food and sometimes stayed and chatted with him kindly, though their accents caused some confusion for Will.
He was indeed a lucky man as the injury was not deep and had healed remarkably fast. Apart from that, it had closed over well, though it was still tender.
Things finally were looking up. Will was planning on heading south as soon as he could to a rebel controlled port where he would negotiate some kind of passage back to Port Royal and Elizabeth.
Elizabeth…each day she filled his thoughts more and more. Her half pout when she was annoyed. Her brilliant smile when she was happy. How her gentle touch eased away the tightness in his shoulders after a hard day's labor. The way her eyes glittered each time the baby moved. Her calming presence by his side. Her kind reassuring words. Her sweet but equally fiery spirit.
Yet, it her voice that tormented his mind the most while reminiscing. Soft, soothing, musical in one moment, serious in another, and erupting in giggles the next.
He could remember the way she had said goodbye, accepting, sorrow-filled, but trusting. Her eyes had followed him down the lane. He knew that without ever looking over his shoulder.
Staring up at the slatted ceiling, he resolved to ask the trio of young women to give him a task to keep his mind away from his lovely wife. The boredom was driving him half mad if he did not think of her and it was too painful to think of her often.
The door clicked open as if open request and Elaine, Mariel, and Celia entered quietly. "Monsieur?" Elaine inquired, she was always the first to speak.
"Yes?"
"We have brought you dinner." Celia handed him a bowl of steaming soup. Chicken and bits of vegetable floated in the golden broth. One thing he had learned in his stay here. It was that these girls knew how to cook.
"Merci." Will's accent was much better though his vocabulary had not increased much.
They sat in silence as he ate. When they had brought him his first meal had unnerved him to see them watch his every move while dining but now it was normal.
He, too, was able to learn from them in this quiet spell. Elaine was obviously the oldest sister. The one all the others looked up to. She was the most rational of all of them but never let anger slip into her voice. Mariel was spontaneous and bubbly. She spoke her thoughts the moment they came to mind yet smiled often and was almost always laughing. The youngest, Celia, seemed to always have a trick up her sleeve. Her dark eyes danced with mischief and she was terribly clever.
Will let the last of the soup fall into his mouth and savored the warm, smooth taste it procured. "That was delicious."
"We are glad you enjoyed it." Elaine took the empty dish and traded it for a small roll wrapped in a thick cloth.
He had just taken the first bite of the heavenly bread when there was heavy thumping down the road, signaling the approach of horsemen.
"Here, Mariel, help me with this, would you?" Elaine handed her sister the other end of a bale of hay. "We'll take it to Cassy."
Mariel scooped up her half of the prickly grasses and they maneuvered it outside with no little amount of difficulty as the strands kept slipping from their grasp. Eventually though they made it through the door.
Will looked questioningly at Celia.
She seemed to understand and said, "No, monsieur, you need not move."
Not in the mood to argue, Will sank back into the straw and waited. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
Mariel and Elaine pulled the heavy bulk of hay unto the back of an empty wheelbarrow just as a troop of about thirty soldiers rode, in a thick haze of dust, into their little farm.
One man, with glinting gold embellishments on his crimson uniform, was riding at the head, an indomitable expression on his face. He halted his stead and stared down at the sisters imperiously. "Good afternoon, ladies, we have reason to suspect you are hiding a fugitive."
"Parlons-nous seulement le français? /do we speak only French?/" Mariel inquired softly.
Yet before Elaine could respond the official said, in a perfect French accent. "Je suis sûr je ne sais pas, mademoiselles. /I'm sure I don't know, ladies./"
TBC...