I knocked on Kensington's cabin door. I was truly frightened by what I might find behind the door. I looked up at the moon as I heard him call out to me, urging me to join him. The moon was full. It seemed to mock my fear. I entered.
Normally, the room defied the confines of the ship's dimensions and I had marveled at it's unnatural size when I'd first joined the crew. Now, however, I was taken aback because it appeared to have shrunk. Granted, it was the size it ought to have been, but it was definitely disconcerting. Enchanted ship, indeed.
The room was also quite dark. The creaking of the timbers, usually so soothing, grated on my frazzled nerves. I couldn't see Kensington, but I knew he was there. He spoke from the shadows at length, "Jack, I need to tell you something." His voice, usually so clear and crisp fairly crawled up my skin and nettled the back of my neck. It was as though a living breathing corpse spoke to me from the corner of the cabin. I though instantly of my mother. I shuddered.
"I figured that, Captain," I answered, trying for jaunty and pulling off pained. I hated that Kensington knew I was afraid of him for the first time since I'd met him.
"I am going to come into the light now, Jack. Please, don' be frightened," his voice was still eerily distant and hoarse, but his kindness warmed it slightly. I was trepidacious, but I knew he wouldn't hurt me.
Finally, he walked forward. The sight was ghastly, but I resisted the urge to recoil from him. He was almost doubled over a cane and withered, a mere shadow of himself. Normally, he stood at my own height. His boots, mass of curly hair, and plumed hat made him seem much taller. Of course, he always dressed like a gentleman, down to polished boots, though that was hardly practical at sea, but now, he wore a threadbare nightshirt, patched and re-patched all over. It was transparent enough that I could count his ribs and see the curvature of his hip bone and spindly legs. His skin, normally a robust bronze from hours under the sun, was stark white and slightly tinged with blue around his mouth. His skin was so stretched over his skull, it seemed barely large enough to contain it. And the black hair had been reduced to a few wisps of white.
Despite my internal response to flee from this ghoul, I strode to him and allowed him to sag his slight weight against my study frame. I helped him to his bed and sat there with him, concentrating on the mocking moon peeking through the window. "Thank you, Jack. I knew I could rely on you," his voice came again, a mere whistle through the rotten lungs and broken windpipe of a long-dead sailor.
"How? And why? If the Pearl drove you mad, why didn't you just go down with the ship? Why go on like this?" I asked quietly.
"Me? Oh, Jack. I should have known Jones would say something like that!" he laughed. It sounded more like a cough and it wracked his body. I waited for him to continue. "See, Jonesy and I were mates. Best friends back in London. We tore up the town, we did," he stopped to cough (or laugh, I couldn't be sure) again. "We boarded the Pearl together once we'd come to Caribbean to try our hands at pirating. Well, I was content to serve under her Captain. Decent enough fellow. Really took to Jonesy and I, as we were terrific pirates," he stopped to take a deep breath. "But, Jones wouldn't serve under anyone for too long, and he mutinied. I was his mate, but we split up the captains share of the plunder fifty fifty, like we were co-captains. And, well, you can guess the rest of that story, I suppose."
"Jones got greedy and wanted you out, right?"
Kensington nodded, "But, see, most of the crew sided with me and tried to get me to mutiny. I couldn't do that to my oldest friend. So, we went our separate ways. He found the Dutchman and I kept the Pearl. I never knew why he let me keep her. Old time's sake, I suppose," he paused again. But this time, there was no coughing. He was merely thinking.
He continued at length, "Of course, the Pearl was already known as the fiercest ship in the Caribbean and likely, anywhere. So, the Dutchman hunted us ruthlessly. Jones was driven mad by some woman and, I suppose, greed. So, one day, I let my crew go at Tortuga, found an old friend who helped me out with the Atropos here. And, with this ship, I have eternal life as long as I can stay aboard it. I live this way because it's the only way I know how to keep Davey Jones from completely taking over the seas. As long as I'm still around, he remains at bay."
"And this friend was whom?"
"Tia Sevatheda. She would be Tia Dalma's great-great-great-great grandmother, I think."
"So, why do you think he agreed to give me the Pearl?" I asked.
"Because he imagines it will draw you away from me and I'll have no one to pass my legacy onto. But, he is wrong. Jack, we must get to Tia Dalma right now," he stamped his cane down in the same way Jones had in the tavern. I didn't bother to tell him that, though.
"But, how are we going to get there? Dalma's river is at least a day's voyage," I sputtered. He had called her Tia Dalma. That must mean that Corinnina was dead. I touched the bead that held my memory of her in it.
I only mourned for a short moment, because the Captain had just given an order: "Ready the longboat!"
When we had descended into the small boat, I picked up an oar. Kensington, looking even more frail by the moonlight, stayed me with a motion of his hand, and said "That is unnecessary." He dipped his cane into the water and spoke so softly I barely heard him. What he said, he spoke the way I'd said my prayers as a young boy. Full of marvel and wonder, and not a little afraid of the wrath of some god.
"Mothers Moirae, daughters of Night,
Hear my call and lend me your light.
The Spinner, The Cutter, the Drawer of Lots be you three
My thread is eternal, but with you lies all Destiny."
And with that, the ocean swirled around us into a mighty whirlpool and pulled us down to her very floor. I clutched the sides of the boat, fearful of the walls of seawater around us. The roar of the ocean was deafening, but Kensington sat passively across from me. I stared around me, but just as suddenly as it had happened, it ended and we were floating leisurely at the dock beneath Tia Corinnina's hut. Or, I suppose, it was now Tia Dalma's. I looked at Kensington, shock written all over my face, but he just gestured to the ladder. I offered to carry him, but he declined and ascended before me of his own power.
Tia Dalma rushed to me and placed both of her hands on my cheeks and shook her head, "Reckless, Jack Sparrow. I warned you." She left me and went to Kensington. There were even more strange things hanging from the ceiling and cluttering every surface, but I didn't have time to inspect them. Dalma was already holding Kensington's hands and rocking back and forth in front of him, singing some strange and melodic chant beneath her breath. As she sang, what little light he had left was weakening. I breached the gap between us in three strides.
"What is going on?" I demanded. Dalma didn't stop to answer me, but she did open her eyes. Unfortunately, it wasn't to acknowledge me. She opened her mouth wide and wailed in some foreign language, her normally dulcet voice had dropped several octaves and had an eerie edge to it. Her irises abruptly rolled back from me and I cringed at the awful sight. Kensington seemed to wither further. I wanted to break the contact between them, but I was afraid of what might become of all three of us. So much energy had filled the room, it was an invisible force but as palpable as my voice would have been if I'd stood there screaming.
Finally, Dalma released Kensington's hands and he crumpled to the floor. I rushed to him and cradled his fragile skull. His breath did not make his chest rise and fall. When I laid my head against it, I heard no heartbeat. I looked at Dalma. She was returned to normal, although she was very pale. She crouched down opposite me and shook her head. I knew Kensington was dead.
"But," I began, fighting the lump in my throat, "He is immortal!"
"Der are no true immortals, Jack. Destiny has an ending for all of us. Some just take longer," she answered. Her voice was normal, but it was sad. She picked up his hand and caressed it. The skin grew plump and supple beneath her touch. She roved her hands all over him, restoring him to the way I'd seen him the first day aboard the Atropos. But, he still did not breathe and his heart was silent.
It could have been hours or moments later that Dalma laid her hand on my shoulder, I didn't know. I didn't look at her, so she crouched down beside me again and spoke, "You wonder why, Jack." It was not a question. I didn't answer. She continued, "He gave him life to you, Jack. He wanted time to tell you why. He intended dis from de moment you set foot on him ship but da Pearl is already trained on you. She will begin to wick away your life and your spirit as surely as it happened to Davy Jones. But, Jack, it's up to you now to keep Jones at bay." I remained silent. She opened my right hand and pressed a narrow white bone into my palm. "'Twas his, Jack. Keep it wit' you always."
She stood. I remained on the floor at his side, just staring. I closed his lids, shutting his brown eyes from the world.
Dalma gave me a small charm to drop into the river that would take me and Kensington's remains back to the ship. I moved methodically, carrying him to the longboat, untying it from the dock, and rowing out to sea. This time, I did not marvel at the ocean swirling upwards and threatening to crush me. I almost hoped for it. Finally, I carried him aboard ship and to his cabin. I brought the longboat up and secured it on deck My hands performed these actions as if by their on accord. Dawn had just broken in the east. I knew the crew wouldn't be long behind the first full rays of sun.
In the meantime, I busied myself making the Atropos ready to sail. I planned to be at Hispaniola before Jones. I wanted the Pearl, cursed though she was over the ship that had become my home. It became my prison the moment I'd lain the Captain on his bedstead. And, besides, I needed to find myself a crew.
Bailley was the first to board, looking rather green. "Best put me on the binnacle, Jack," he said with a hearty slap on my shoulder. Following him came Cotton, Pell, and the rest of the crew. Not a one looked like that hadn't been loaded to the gunwales the night before. I knew they'd celebrated me long after I'd slipped out. But, I had to tell them.
The sorry-looking lot of them straightened at my words. They had all respected the Captain as an leader and a true friend. One by one, they doffed their hats or head scarves and looked to Bailley. He hung his great bald head, swallowing profusely. I knew he was near tears, though he wouldn't let them come in front of the crew.
"Well, Jack, what say you? We all know this ship was to be yours, but wit' the Pearl an' all, well -" the big man trailed off, looking sorrowful.
I nodded and bit back my own emotions. I stood to my full height and drew my sword. The crew gasped. This was a critical moment for any ship where the captaincy was debated. I simply tuned the sword and offered Bailley the handle. I gave him the Atropos.
The crew breathed a universal sigh of relief and Bailley smiled sadly at me, "I am forever in your debt, Captain Jack." He knew I'd never have taken that ship.
"No, Captain Bailley, I am in yours. Now, may I be so bold as to ask for passage to Hispaniola?" I asked, sheathing my cutlass.
"We'll set sail right now! To your work, mates!" barked the new captain.
We sailed for Hispaniola. On our journey, we buried the Captain at sea, as he'd have had it. It took us a full day to reach the island sail around it to Puerto de Plata and we spent the night aboard ship in the wide harbor. The next day, we went to port. It was there where I took my last look at the Atropos and Captain Bailley. Of course, I heard of places they might have been and of adventures they sailed on, but I never went out of my way to find her. And fate never put me in her path again.
Alone, I rowed down the Rio D'yuna and to the small village of La Vega. I had heard that it was a haven for pirates, thieves, whores, and the black market. I was not disappointed.
As I strolled down its many narrow side streets, I was solicited for sex, opium, and a variety of shrunken heads. The whores frightened me even more than the heads. As I moved to skirt another prostitute, a scrawny-looking dark-skinned girl stumbled out into the muddy street in front of me. She was clutching a headless chicken and her eyes were staring behind her, at some as-yet-seen menace hollered, "You filthy whore! You come back here so I can peel the worthless skin from your stinking bones!"
I bent and helped her up and shoved her behind me as the largest man I'd ever seen squeezed himself through the doorway from which the girl had just fallen. He must have outweighed me by two hundred pounds and was easily a foot taller. His neck was the breadth of the Christmas ham I'd eaten in England at the manor. In fact, his nose was turned up a bit and his nostrils flared so large, he looked a bit like a pig himself. He was quite sweaty and in a gruesome state of undress, but I supposed he must have had some money, for his breeches were of a good quality and looked new. His red face loomed large as the moon above me as he ranted, "Stand aside, pirate! That piece of whore-flesh is mine!"
She cowered behind me. She was shaking so violently against my back, she almost rattled my teeth out of my head. "Well, for a piece of property, you don't seem to care for her much," I noted, nonchalantly. I was hoping she'd take the time I was buying her to run, but instead, she stood there, clutching my belt and that fool chicken as though she were drowning and one of us was going to hold her afloat.
"What do you care? Eh? Get out of my way!" the Pig Man roared again, moving his giant ham hock arm to swipe my narrow form aside. I raised a small purse of coin and jingled it at him, "Do you wager this will be enough for the lass and the poultry? Eh?"
He swooped his huge hand down and took the bag. I was almost surprised to see that it was not cloven. He shook out the contents. A French livre and some Dutch Florins spilled into his hand. He roared with laughter. "More than enough, fool. Do you always overpay for whores? Or is it the chicken you fancy?"
"It is neither, sir. But I pay for the hope that you'll turn your foul-smelling breath away from me so that I might breathe," I answered. The small group of spectators we'd drawn laughed and began drifting back to their own debauchery. Pig Man grunted (or perhaps, oinked) and turned back to the house.
When I turned to see the girl, she'd gone. I shrugged and held up the gold chain and watch I'd swiped from the Pig Man's pocket. It ought to be worth at least what I'd given him for the girl. But my stomach did rumble then for some chicken. I headed for the nearest inn and slapped down two shillings for a bottle of rum and some chicken broth with limp-looking vegetables floating about in it. I was really looking forward to finding a crew and setting sail on my ship. My short time in this miserable little place was beginning to get expensive.
As I slurped up my soup and gulped down the rum, I noticed someone standing over my shoulder. My intuition told me the visitor was of the female persuasion. "If you'll give me the time to finish my meal, I'd be plenty glad to accommodate you, love," I told her without raising my head. A whore at my beck and call always put me in better spirits. However, I didn't want to spend more than I had already. I'd learned that if you let them think you didn't want them, they always lowered their fee.
Instead of retreating footsteps, a bleeding chicken was thrust under my nose. I pushed the broth away and remarked, "Well, I didn't want it all that badly anyway." I looked up to see who was presenting me with such a festive gift. It was the girl from the street.
I pushed the offering away with one finger and looked up her, "That's all right, love, you keep it. We're square," I said, taking another swig from my bottle. She shoved it back at me. And I pushed it back to her. "English?" I asked. No response, "Français?" I tried.
She lit up with a smile. I could see she had all of her teeth, which was a rarity. I myself had gotten one or two knocked out in various barroom brawls with the crew of the Atropos. But, they're easily replaced when you have the gold for it. But, this girl obviously didn't have gold for anything. Her face was nicely made, though. Her eyes were a rich hazel, almost gold and they stood out beautifully on her light cinnamon-colored skin. Her hair was long and dark brown. It was smooth, which suggested she wasn't of Carib or African descent. She was most likely a Kalínago. But, she spoke a fair amount of French as well as her native language. I gestured for her to sit with me and when I noticed her eyeing the broth, I pushed it to her and told her to eat. I ordered another bowl and she devoured it as well. When she'd finished, we conversed.
"My name is Kolibrí. I come to you to settle my debt," she said. Her French was broken, but then, so was mine after years of disuse.
"You don't have to worry about it, love -" I began. She cut me off with a hard look.
"No, you bought my freedom. I was no whore. I was his slave," she said. Her voice was hard, but not self-pitying. She looked down at the table before boldly meeting my eyes, "I know the poultry is no payment, but I will work for you. I cannot bear to be a slave again."
"It's really unnecessary. But, perhaps you could direct my to a place to find a crew? I have just come into a ship, you see-" I started, but she cut me off again. For a former slave, she was the least subservient person I'd ever met.
"Oh! I can crew! I am a talented sailor!" she burst forth. Her eyes were bright and shining. I doubted her sailing abilities as her arms and legs were as thin as spindles and I could practically count her ribs. I think she would have said she could wrestle a feral dog at that moment, if only to have gainful employment. I chuckled at her exuberance and held out my hand. At this point, I had to start somewhere.
"Well, Kolibrí, you're welcome aboard, then," I grinned at her enthusiastic handshake. I heard it was bad luck to sail with a woman, but I seemed to have landed in my current situation with the good luck I thought I'd possessed. Perhaps Kolibrí would prove to be a new good luck charm.
"And, Captain Sparrow, I know just the place to find more crew!" she stood. I took that to mean that we were going at that moment, so I followed her. It had been dusk when I'd entered the tavern and there hadn't been many revelers about at that early hour. However, night had fallen and there were people everywhere. The press of the crowd lifted my spirits. A crew should be easy to come by.
I was proven wrong again.
Kolibrí took me a loud and raucous tavern called the Velvet Clam. I marveled at the imaginative name a moment, before my intrepid new friend pulled me through the doors. Apparently, "clam" was a not-so-subtle euphemism. I pulled Kolibrí back to my side and whispered harshly to her, "I need a crew that's a little less female, if you please." She laughed at me and led me past the prostitutes who lounged in all states of undress and blew kisses at me as I passed. We entered a dimly lit bar area, where any number of shifty looking individuals were seated. They eyed me warily.
I paid the barkeep to allow me a little privacy in the corner of the tavern and Kolibrí acted the serving wench and sent anyone willing to hear my proposal to my table.
My first prospect was a salty looking old man who was shoe-less. That wasn't irregular, but the fact that he was also sans breeches was a little disturbing. I rubbed the bridge of my nose. This was going to be interesting.
"Well, uh, hello. You're interested in being a pirate, then?" I began, gingerly focusing my attention on his face.
"I been a pirate, son, nigh on forty-seven years!" he bellowed at me. I sat back a little. Well, experience counted for something.
"And, what was your last position aboard ship?" I asked.
"I was the goatherd!" he announced proudly.
I grimaced and forced myself to concentrate of his face. I tapped my hands together, brought my fingers to a steeple and pressed them against my lips. I searched over his shoulder for Kolibrí. She did not seem to be having much luck. "I'd no idea that one required a goatherd aboard ship," I began. I hesitated a moment before continuing, "Would you like to, er, look after goats aboard the Black Pearl under me, then?"
I'd no sooner said "Pearl" when the man's face went white. He crossed himself and hopped twice in place (much to my chagrin) before answering, "The Pearl? Never! Ain't no man that crazy." I was about to answer that I thought I'd finally found him, but I held my tongue as he walked away. The next three interviews went much the same way, give or take the goats. As soon as the man heard me speak the name of my ship, they blanched and took off.
Finally, a man seated near me walked over. "You honestly have the Pearl, mate?" he asked. He stood close to my height and was probably my senior by ten years. His long curly brown hair and beard were prematurely shot through with grey. His face was lined and his nose was rather bulbous, but his blue eyes held an appealing sort of youthful mischief. He wore a black coat and brown breeches (thankfully). Atop the outfit was a round-brimmed hat that sported a large plume.
"I do, and who, may I ask, is inquiring," I asked. Until this man had approached me, I was seriously considering collecting my only crew mate thus far and leaving. I really hoped he wasn't as nutty as the previous ones.
He stuck out his hand in the usual manner. I resisted the urge to inspect it, as I'd already touched a number of unseemly materials since I'd taken my seat. "Hector Barbossa, and you are?" he asked, taking the applicant's seat. I was heartened. So far, so good.
"Captain Jack Sparrow," I announced proudly. I had really gotten used to the title. I planned on using it at every opportune moment. I almost wished I had to fill out some paperwork, so I could practice making my mark with my title.
Barbossa nodded at me, "The Pearl, have you had her long?"
"Just acquired her, as a matter of fact. That's why I'm seeking a crew."
"And where, might I ask, did you acquire such a prize?"he asked, leaning forward to hear my story.
I was about to tell him that he might not ask when another gentleman burst into the room, half -carrying and half-dragging two giggling whores along with him, "Hector, you are absolutely missing the fun!" This man was a good deal taller and broader that Barbossa and around the same age. His fair features were smeared with rouge and lip paints, his blond hair was mussed, and his merry blue eyes were bleary with rum and other spirits. He looked like the type of fellow from whom I could win a great deal of money and still laugh with the next day.
"Ah, Bootstrap, I think you need to meet Captain Sparrow," Barbossa said, with a dramatic sweep of his hand towards me. The man smiled blearily, "Howdyoudo?" he slurred. I smiled and nodded at him. He lowered his gaze back to Barbossa, "And you need to meet Nina and Maria! Come back upstairs. I bet Pinta is somewhere!" he laughed uproariously at his own joke, and the girls laughed with him. Barbossa hardly acknowledged him. Instead, he turned back to me.
"I think what my friend meant to say is that we'd be delighted to join the crew of the Black Pearl. Have you got a first mate yet?" Barbossa asked. He was decidedly presumptuous, but as I was decidedly desperate and he seemed like a good enough sailor, I told him that I did not.
Kolibrí choose that moment to reappear at the table. She looked hard at me and accused, "I thought I was your first mate!" She had the nerve to pout.
"And I thought you didn't speak English," I answered with a grin. Her pout faded and she smiled at me, innocently. "And, besides, love, I need you to climb into that crow's nest. I know I won't be able to find anyone lighter and stronger than you to do that each day, savvy?" She smiled prettily and sat down with us.
Barbossa fixed me with a glare, "You sail with women?"
I shrugged, "I sail with whomever I please, mate."
He smiled and held his bottle of rum aloft, "Well, then, here's to the Black Pearl! No matter who crews her, she's mighty!"
I raised my bottle. Kolibrí raised someone else's glass of ale. "Aye! To the Pearl!" we cheered.
Bootstrap fell into the vacant chair without his whores. He took his last gulp of rum and looked at the three of us and asked, "Who's Pearl?"before passing out on the table.