Big 'sorry' – the internet problem is still not resolved and its status is, as yet, in limbo. No where were: Jack, Will and Alex, being trussed and bound for an unknown reason, held captive by the French.
The rest of the crew were left on the Black Pearl, muted in their fear - save for muffled muttering, their whispers sounding like dry leaves scraping down a deserted road - and were firmly locked into the ship's brig. A few crew members had forcefully resisted being herded downstairs into the iron cells, and they were nursing all manner of bloody noses and broken bones. Jack surreptitiously tried to blend in with his crew and head into the brigs with them. Jack was not a coward by nature, but as the Captain, he ate the same rations as them, drank the same stale water mixed with rum, wore the same clothes as them, and got into the same scrapes as them. Savvy? Captain or not, Jack's policy was: in for a penny, out for a pound.
As Jack pushed his way down the dark hold with the rest of the pirates, he felt a neck-jerking tug on his plaited hair. Turning around with difficulty, he noted one of the Frenchman had a firm grasp on one of his dread-locks. Annoyed, Jack tried to swat his hand away.
"Back here," The Frenchman sneered, hauling Jack back up on deck by his hair. Stumbling, Jack emerged back on the polished decks of the Black Pearl, blinking in the glaring light cast off by the waves. He noted Will and Alex were already singled out and pressed into a tight circle, with all manner of guns, cutlasses and other pirating paraphernalia pointed their way menacingly.
"You three are wanted in town." Said the Frenchman in heavily afflicted English, as he relinquished control of Jack's hair. He was a rather brawny man, with black hair, a crooked large nose and broad shoulders with no neck.
"I don't understand." Alex spat stubbornly, her flinty grey eyes screwed up in anger. She was still wearing normal sailor's slops and appeared decidedly male, so Jack surmised they hadn't singled her out because she was female. Alex's comment was directed at their less-than-civil welcome by the invading French, but the Frenchman took to interpret her words as a continuation of her mockery, pretending that she didn't speak English.
The Frenchman sighed in annoyance, "I fear that joke is growing old." He stated, and without further warning sent a round-house hurtling towards Alex. Surprised, Alex managed to move her head so that the blow didn't break her jaw or loosen teeth, but it caught her just below her eye. Stunned by the force of the blow, Alex swayed, almost dropping to her knees, but caught herself just in time. Will immediately surged forward to attack the Frenchman, but Jack pulled him back before he could impale himself on the French crew's bayonets.
"Don't be rash, lad." Jack muttered as he restrained Will. Will took no heed of Jack's words and struggled harder,
"They hit her! For no good reason!"
"You'll blow her cover, fool." Jack hissed in warning. Will immediately stopped fighting to escape Jack's clutches, but looked loathe to do so. "Smart lad."
Marching grudgingly through town, no-one gave the troupe a second glance. In merry London, three decidedly pirate looking rogues roped together and manhandled cursingly through the crowed streets would have caused traffic to stop. But then again, Will surmised, Tortuga is a pirating cove. This sort of debauchery is expected to occur. Encouraged, even. However, get a proper gentleman and lady decked out in their Sunday finest strolling casually down the main thoroughfare of Tortuga – that would attract stares.
Will risked glancing around at the town. It was madness, wholly and completely. Will construed Tortuga was like the larger version of a perfect pirate ship. Taverns and pubs had a person flying out their windows so constantly Will was surprised the owners even bothered to place glass in the window-panes at all. Mind you, with the amount of gold pirates squandered on rum and other alcoholic beverages, Will knew he shouldn't be shocked. Tavern owners could well afford to repair every fixed window in their establishment, and glaze them in gold.
Rum and ale sat in barrels outside pubs and inns, cracked open with their contents brimming out over the sides and running into frothy rivulets onto the muddied ground. Prostitutes sashayed unashamedly down the crowded streets, with their rich coloured clothing and revealing necklines, simply laughing unabashed as they were cursed at and propositioned by passing gentlemen of fortune. Will knew if you went into the more darker side-streets of Tortuga's main road (to ruin), you'd find lot more than what was carried on in broad daylight.
Tortuga consisted only of grimy inns, taverns, hostels, more 'pleasurable' establishments, pubs, gambling centres and musty cobwebbed treasure trading shops, where gold and silver coins were exchanged for gemstones, antiquities and plundered loot traded, and oilskin pirate maps (some precious few which actually revealed locations of anything valuable) sold and bought. Will was tempted to walk into one such treasure horde, named 'Silk Road Sales; treasure from far and near,' just to gaze ardently at the sheer amount of treasure piled up in every corner and crevice of the shop, but he was discouraged by a sharp jab from the butt of a French pirate's rifle – for Will had concluded they were definitely pirates – and stumbled on.
"Wouldn't have gone in there anyway." Jack murmured from the corner of his mouth.
"Why?" Will whispered back.
"Rob you blind." Jack muttered back. "Nothing real of value in the shop." He added.
"Have you been in there?" Will asked, intrigued.
"Many times." Jack replied with conviction. Will nodded, accepting his answer, until he realised,
"I thought you said they only sold junk in the shop?" Will remarked, confused.
"Aye." Jack replied simply. "I said what's in the store is mere trinkets. The quality stuff's kept under the shop."
"So why haven't you gone in there of late?" Will wished Jack had told him about this shop – he was dying to get himself a cutlass with some impressive jewels set into the hilt like he had glimpsed briefly in the store's front. Now that was the work of one talented blacksmith…
"Because," Jack explained impatiently, "I didn't exactly pay the last time I visited."
Will chuckled at Jack's audaciousness, and Jack smiled at the memory of his audaciousness, but Alex remained stony-faced. Will briefly gazed at her, their eyes meeting. Alex gave not inclination she could even see him; her eyes just stared straight past him blankly. It was then that Will noted how tense she was. Alex was nervous. When Will pointed this out to Jack, he just shrugged.
Of course she bloody-well should be, he thought, she's a lamb amongst lions. One false move, one giveaway, and she's the next piece of treasure for some depraved pirate captain's horde. It was for this reason that Jack didn't envy women pirates. Men, when captured by the enemy, were often just shot. Killed outright, easy as that. Just a bang, a flash and a smoking gun and you were gone. But women often got a lot more before they were killed. Jack's eyes slitted in anger. It wouldn't happen to Alex. It wouldn't happen again. Not this time. Last time he was too late. Last time…
"Alright you lot." The Frenchman stated, heaving open the heavy iron door of some dank, murky inn. "Bon voyage," He smiled, pushing the tethered three inside. Jack, Will and Alex struggled to keep their footing. Jack noted the inn was empty; the candles were unlit, with the yellowed wax dripping in stalactites and forming waxy pools under the brackets onto the scuffed, worn floor. Several floorboards were rotted and broken, and cobwebs hung in whispers in the rafters. Lopsided tables and broken chairs lay scattered around the room, some resting neatly on top of the tables, some thrown any which way across the floor. The bar held a few broken bottles of an assortment of alcohol, but the floor in front of it was littered with shattered glass. This inn had been cleaned out long ago, and was definitely no longer in business.
"Welcome." Stated the vaguely familiar voice. Jack whipped his head around, his dark eyes adjusting to the gloom first. He caught a glint of light reflecting off a cutlass and ducked out of the way as the silver metal rushed past his head.
He felt his ropes slacken, and noticed that whoever was behind the sword had freed them. Jack knew he should feel relief, but he didn't. They were unarmed. The other man had a cutlass. And he knew how to use it.
Next week: Know Thine Enemy.
Sorry I couldn't reply to reviews: rush to get this updated before internet stops working again