Of all the debacles and chaos that occurred regularly at the pirating port of Tortuga – the port complete with the standard red-eyed drunken pirates stumbling around, sly-eyed whores in their flesh-revealing garb, the shifty-eyed, darkly menacing gambling loan sharks and the blinded and corrupt businessmen who made up the rest of the population of Tortuga – it was ironically a blaze in a church that attracted the attention of almost all the inhabitants of Tortuga. Almost every soul on that French port had gathered outside the small mission church in the towns-square, watching mesmerised as the imposing stone and mortar vaulted church was consumed by piercing-red flames. Somehow word had got around that Captain Jack Sparrow – whom most people on the island, especially the ladies in Madame Catherine's Brothel, knew explicitly well – was trapped inside. What the pirate was doing there in the first place, no-one seemed to know.
They watched in mute silence and disbelief as the heat of the flames baked their faces, even though they were standing on the opposite side of the cobble-stoned town square as the church. Several of the more superstitious old sea dogs refused to stare into the flames, claiming they were sent from the bowels of Hell itself. How that notion came to being in the old men's wizened heads nobody knew, but every now and then the entranced onlookers would swear they could hear unearthly screaming coming from inside the burning church. A poor soul left inside to burn to death, or were the flames themselves howling like the damned?
Some children swore they heard echoing laughter, so full of malice and spite it raised goose-bumps on their arms that would remain there for the rest of their natural lives. Their parents hurriedly dismissed their children as talking nonsense, but when a column of smoke rose into the air and formed the shape of a grinning skull, - it's evil smirk rising several feet tall over the tiled-roofs of Tortuga - it was then that the townspeople – the ones that had seen it all, evil in every shape and form – turned on their heel and hurriedly made to leave the spectacle of the church and return swiftly to their homes, where even the most hardest and un-Christian man would lock his door and make the sign of the cross over his chest. For Tortuga had just witnessed a glimpse of Hell, in that burning church that day.
But before the crowd could leave, a small boy cried, "Look! Look at the door! It's opening!" Everyone watched the flaming wooden doors of the church slowly creak open, each observer too stunned and rooted to the spot to do anything other than hold their breaths. Slowly, excruciatingly, a figure emerged from the background of the flickering flames, sparks and flames chasing at the figure's feet. The figure was labouredly dragging another behind him.
"It's Jack Sparrow. The man has Jack!" came up a cry. Almost upon hearing the voice, the hunched-over figure straightened and gazed at the assembled crowd in front of him. Flames crackled and cast light over the unknown man's face. What it revealed was horrific. The man's hair was aflame, his face boiled red and raw. In several places it was drooping, almost like a wax candle that has burned too long.
"Father Deprey?" Came a muted whisper, "It's the priest… No, it can't be…"
Before the villagers could move to help the struggling man of God, or the unconscious Jack, the flames from the church surged higher, almost as if it knew its quarry was escaping through its open doors. There was a blinding flash like lightening and the arrogant roar of the flames as they grew higher. Two long pillars of flame, like the forked tongue of Lucifer himself – snaked out through the open doors of church, winding around Father Deprey who was standing on the church's threshold. The flames circled around his ankles like ropes, and with a hiss of triumph the flames flared again, dragging the defeated Deprey back into the burning church. And his eternal doom. The man clawed at the stone floor, trying to find purchase in the cracks to drag himself back outside and to safety, but the flames were too strong. The Father's frantic scratch-marks are still etched into the stone stairs; all that remains of his church, to carry on the legacy of Father Deprey and his mission. Little did Tortuga know, it had just witnessed the most valiant and noble act ever to be committed in the history of the pirating port. Father Deprey had sacrificed himself to the Devil. Some people argued that Jack had been spared because he was soaked in water from the town's fountain, but the wise and the smart knew. The priest had taken the pirate's place in Hell.
And now Captain Jack Sparrow lay, soot-covered and unconscious, on the cracked and uneven stone steps of the flame-engulfed church. His hat was smouldering quietly. Whispers began.
"Somebody should help him."
"He's been marked by the Devil. To touch him is a curse."
"That's Jack Sparrow, Captain of the Black Pearl. So ferocious even Hell itself spat him back out."
"So evil the Devil himself won't take him."
"Don't speak his name; Lucifer is afeard of no man."
"Whoever he is, he's dying nonetheless. Someone should help him."
"Look at the last person who tried to help him; damned and enslaved a Devil's minion for eternity."
"Well, if no-one's going to help him, I will. Perhaps he'll allow me to crew on the Black Pearl in repayment."
There was the sound of a horse's terrified whinny from the street where the crowd was assembled. Wrenching their eyes away from Jack and the burning church, the onlookers turned on behind them to stare at the rearing black horse with burning red eyes. Atop was a rider so beautiful, many men fell to their knees in shock and awe.
Her lavender eyes blazed fiercely as she settled her midnight steed back on four hooves. The stallion's eyes rolled to the back of his head, showing the whites of his eyes, and it was foaming at the mouth. Whether the animal was afraid of the flames, or of his rider was unknown. Later it would become obvious to the people of Tortuga which conjecture was correct.
"I will go to Captain Sparrow's aide. No-one touches him except I. He is my charge, and he will remain in my care from now on. Nobody breathes a word of this to anyone, understand. Not friend, fellow or foreigner." The lady spoke with such fierceness and authority no-one dared challenge her. All were mesmerised by her beauty as she urged her horse towards the burning church. The animal squealed in terror, but the lady dug her heels in and forced the struggling steed forward. Blood rolled down its dark flanks and trickled onto the cobble-stones. She stopped the terrified animal in front of the lifeless Jack, dismounted in one fluid movement and hefted Jack onto the back of the horse like he weighed nothing. Mounting the horse once more, she trotted back to the spell-bound crowd. They silently parted to allow her through as if she was Moses parting the Red Sea. Before she disappeared around the corner of the street, she turned to address the crowd once more.
"And whomever it was that expressed their desire to crew on the Black Pearl, I'm afraid that ship is no-more." She smiled coyly for a moment. "But those who wish to join my crew, you're more than welcome to follow me to the docks and enlist."
As if in a trance every man – from gangly boy to strapping youth to withered old man – made to follow the heavenly raven-haired lady. The women in the crowd were silent, as if petrified in place. But strangely, the juvenile youths and old men found their feet and legs would not move, as if they were glued to the ground. The most handsome, strongest and pleasant men found their feet would allow them to follow, so follow they did, like the mice followed the Pied Piper in Hamelin. Their fates would later mirror the fates of those doomed mice.
The lady spurred her horse to a gallop down the echoing streets of Tortuga. Doors swung emptily back and forth as if invisible patrons walked through their doors, horses grazed idly down the streets, shop-signs creaked on their hinges in the light breeze. Beer and rum barrels stood empty and leaking in the streets as the horses steel hooves dug into the muddy ground, flicking up alcohol-drenched flecks of dirt. The men trailed after the lady on the horse mutely, unknowingly. They followed her onto the wooden docks and walked single file up the gang-plank of the dark and foreboding ship; the only ship docked in the port. The rest were burning hulks in the bay or had already sunk beneath the innocently lapping ocean waves. The men's blank eyes did not register the sinister corpse-like figure-head beckoning to them with outstretched skeletal fingers and burning red hypnotic eyes, nor did their eyes heed the name carved onto the side of the ship:
The Drifting Maiden.
I apologise for any errors and lack of response to reviews – can't seem to shake this illness I've had for the past few weeks. Of course, it had to happen right when I'm trying to bring together all the plotlines of the story, so I hope I'm making sense. To anyone who doesn't quite get it, or some of what's happening, just let me know and I'll post a brief summary to get you all up to speed.
However, I do say a heartfelt thanks to all those still reading and reviewing: DCoD (for your very enthusiastic reviews), Nerd's United, Jacquelyn Sparrow, Willowred, Pebbles1234, xthexstarlettex, Lonaargh, cuilean uasal, jla2snoopy, whoever else who's still patiently reading and hasn't given up on me or the story.
Peace, Love and Rock N Roll to you all.
And yes, I am aware that one paragraph is made up almost entirely of just one sentence. My English teacher would kill me if she saw it.