As I watched the Pearl sail toward the horizon, I did not wallow in pity for myself. Instead, I combed the narrow spit of sand on which I had been marooned. After all, it was I who had earned the Pearl and, thus, it was my horizon that the crew was sailing towards. Surely the Fates would see me through. If, that is, the Fates read "earned" as "extorted." But, that's only semantics.
As far as I could tell, this island was inhabitable. I could see straight through the thin smattering of palms that covered the middle of the cay and it only took me about fifteen minutes to complete its circumference. And that was at a leisurely stroll.
However much time I had before me, I still could not afford leisure. I needed food, clean water ad the most important comestible substance I had yet encountered – "Rum." I spoke the last aloud as though the request might be granted.
I sunk down against the base of a sun-bleached palm. And then I came upon a rather odd sight for an uninhabited island: a bit of shine. I crawled toward the gem, sparkling amidst the white sand and green scrub growing through it. I lifted it from the sand and saw that it was a ring. The face was a poorly rendered skull of some crude silver material. The face bore a red chip of a gem in one eye socket. The other was empty and most likely, the matching jewel had fallen out. But, the most eye catching bit was a clear gem between the skull's teeth. A diamond, no doubt.
"Great, this means one of two things," I pondered aloud, "Either whomever frequents this island has no taste in jewelry or the person to whom it belongs does not frequent this island." I sat down there in the sand and laughed. "And, now I'm thinking out loud. Wonderful, Jack, you actually are as crazy as you pretend to be." But then, I stopped laughing. My laugh sounded strange to my ears. My sandy surroundings should have absorbed my laughter. Instead, it was echoed back to me. And, with my knowledge of acoustics, that meant one thing. There was something hollow somewhere nearby. I began to dig.
It didn't take me long to find a narrow door beneath a few feet of sand. I brushed it off and saw that it bore no symbol. I smiled. Pirates, then. Of course, who else would wear an ugly skull with a missing eye?
I pried the box open and discovered at least a dozen glittering green and brown bottles. "Wishes do come true!" I crowed, pulling out as many as I could. I uncorked one to find it full to the brim with that soothing brown libation that I love the most. I took a drink and sat back down. "Not pirates, then. Rum runners. An equally tasteless bunch. But, now, at least I know I only have to wait for them."
I didn't care if I was talking to myself. I had rum. I set about building a fire and I sharpened a long thin branch and caught some dinner.
And then, I laid back and reveled in the quiet for three days.
XxXxXxX
"Oi! What d'you think yer doin'?" came a gruff baritone voice. I cracked open one eye, groaning as my brain was flooded simultaneously with the hot Caribbean sun and the disgruntled expression of a burly rum runner. And, a pistol aimed at the family jewels. I sat up.
"I was sleeping it off, as it were. And yourself?" I asked, innocently eying the firearm.
"Sleepin' off my profits, eh?" the man barked. I inched away. The barrel of the pistol followed.
I opened my mouth to reply, when another male voice came from my left. "Brucks! The stash is here. It's been tampered with."
Brucks lowered the pistol as he glanced toward the direction of the shout. I took the opportunity to move out of its direct path.
I stood taller than the rum runner by at least a head, but he outweighed me by my own weight. I drew my cutlass. "I'd be the tamperer, mate. And, were it not so valuable a substance what was tampered with, I'd reimburse you for the tampering," I began, successfully regaining Brucks' attention. He noted my weapon and adjusted the aim of his own.
"You ain't got to worry 'bout re- er, rein- well payin'," he stuttered, growing angrier over his inability to repeat me. I grinned.
"Well, sir, that's awfully nice of you. Perhaps you can help me off this island?" I asked, making to sheath my sword.
"We ain't square!" he retorted. I raised my eyebrows and kept my sword out. "What I mean ta say is I'll be takin' payment from yer scrawny backside." He cackled at me.
I looked over my shoulder to assess the aforementioned body part. "Scrawny it may be, mate. But, I have something of value that might settle the debt and buy me passage aboard your ship."
"I don't regularly enjoy the company of men if that's what yer steerin' at," came the reply. I wrinkled my nose at his foul suggestion and the even fouler image that danced through my head.
"Well, whatever it is you do regularly is not of my concern. But, I have a feeling one of your crew lost a bit of shine on the last visit to this little cay, eh?"
The big man looked down at his own hand. Sure enough, there was a white band around the pudgy little finger of his left hand.
"I assume, then, that I'd be right?" I ventured.
"Me weddin' ring," came Brucks' quiet reply. I rolled my eyes. I should have known. I couldn't imagine what the ring's giver must look like.
I held up the object in question. "Love is certainly a beautiful thing. So, are my terms fair?"
Brucks lifted his shaggy head. Tears sparkled in the corners of his eyes, but his expression had turned hard. "You ain't got no terms. I can kill you right now and take my ring back."
I pulled my pistol from the waistband of my breeches and aimed it at the rum bottles Brucks' flunkies had been unloading from the hole in the sand. "If you take one step toward me in a manner I deem unkind, I'll blow your payload and the rest of us off of the green earth."
"You wouldn't kill yourself," the big man scoffed.
"Wouldn't I? Do you know what three days marooned on an island does to a man?" I demanded, shaking the pistol at the mound of glass bottles. The men who'd been unloading them halted and stared at their boss and me. I continued, upping the ante with a few wild gestures for their benefit. "I was left with a single shot with which to put myself out of my misery. And, I was planning on doing it this very morning. I wouldn't mind a little company when I march up to Satan's door, savvy?"
Brucks lowered his own weapon, "Don't do it, mate. You give me my ring back and we'll sail today. Okay?"
I lowered my pistol, sheathed my cutlass, and tossed the ring at him with a grin. "Excellent plan." I walked away from the dumbfounded rum runner and toward the longboat on the shore.
XxXxXxX
Three days later, I found myself in Tia Dalma's hut. She's spent the better part of my visit consoling me in a way that only she knew. And, I just let myself forget about my ship, the mutiny, the lost chance at treasure. I just wrapped myself up in her.
She, however, would not allow it.
Even as she caressed the side of my face, so gently that her hands felt unreal, she snapped, "You cannot waste like dis, Jack Sparrow. Your Fate is not an idle one."
I shrugged, disconsolately. "No use, Tia Dalma. My pirating days are over. I had a good run, though, eh?" I was being childish and I knew it. But, it felt better to act stubborn and selfish than dare to think I could face the seas again.
Sh pushed me off of her, an outward sign of her obvious disgust. I didn't blame her. I was disgusted with myself. "You cannot walk 'round me bayou wit' dem ghosts in your eyes an' dat 'poor Jack' way o' t'inkin'. My mama would 'ave laid her life down for dat Captain o' yours, and he laid down him life for you. You'd best t'ink again about wastin' away here wit' me, Jack Sparrow."
"But, I love you, Dalma."
"You don't love no one 'cept yo'self," she replied, calmly. When I would have argued, she simply raised a staying hand. I closed m mouth, knowing that she was right. "Don'. It is who you are now. I didna say you would not love or tha' you couldna love. I jus' say dat you do not. You jus' lack direction now, eh, Jack?"
I shrugged, noncommittal. The fact was, I was restless. I had no prospects or plans. The last time I'd been like this was my childhood, before I'd been hurried out my door in that carriage taking me to England. Since then, I had been a man of action. I'd never dithered.
Dalma grinned at me, "Ah, Jack. You forget yourself. I can See t'ings you cannot." She turned in a flurry of mouldering petticoats, her dress long forgotten in a heap on the floor. I couldn't help myself the indulgent stare at her retreating form.
"I can see 't'ings', too, Dalma," I said, quite beneath my breath.
Dalma turned, with another smile. She had something in her hand and she held it out to me. It was a small octagonal box. I reached to take it and she closed her fist over it.
"Not all of my gifts come wit'out a price, Jack," she reminded me, playfully holding the object close to her generous bosom.
"And what is it that I, Captain Jack Sparrow, can do for you?" I asked, insinuating myself closer to her. I spun her around and dropped a hot kiss on her bare throat. She whimpered a little before pulling away.
"The payment is fair," she conceded with a grin. She opened my hand and dropped the box into it. I looked at the peculiarly carved object for a moment. "Open it, Jack. Twon't do no good jus' sittin' der," the mystic urged. I obeyed.
Beneath the cover was a spinning needle and the markings of a traditional compass. However, the compass did not stop spinning in a lazy back and forth way. Finally, it rested between the markings for northeast and east.
"I thank you, Dalma. But, I think it's a bit, er, off?" I ventured, not wishing to incur her ill-will.
She grinned and took it back. While it rested in her palm, the arrow spun a few arcs and rested decisively in the opposite direction. It pointed right at me. I puzzled a bit longer before finally giving in, "What's the trick, love?"
"No trick, Jack. Dis compass shows where yer heart truly lies," came the riposte. I checked the arrow again and took it from her. The compass' needle, true to her word, landed pointing directly at her.
"I like it," I murmured as she wrapped her lithe form onto mine and pushed me back to her little nest at the back of the hut.
XxXxXxX
The compass led me, all right. It led me right back to Tortuga. Unfortunately, it landed me in Scarlett's path.
"How dare you come back to me without that treasure. I risked my life for it!" the redhead raged. I dodged a sauce pot the came flying at my head and winced as hit the wall behind me with a resounding clatter.
"And I didn't, love? Are you forgetting that I lost my ship? My Pearl, love!"
"I don't care about your bloody boat, Jack. You promised me coin to take care of me and Christian!"
"Christian? Isn't that a bit ironic?" I replied. It was obviously the wrong thing because another pot sailed at me from across the room.
"It was my brother's name, God rest him," she came back. Her fury was dying, and I felt sorry for her. I had run across her outside of a tavern as she pulled her skirts back down after a quick job between two buildings. Her cheeks burned hot red and tears streaked the Kohl around her eyes. But, her shame and sorrow had turned to rage when she saw me.
Against her wishes, I'd followed her back to the hovel she'd been living in. One wall was covered with found bits of moldy wood, most likely scavenged from other broken down homes. The other three were whole, but not much better. She had two piles of odious rags that seemed to serve as bedding for her and the boy, and little else.
"Where is he now?" I asked, noting her quiet stare. "Christian?" I clarified.
"He stays with a beggar woman I met while I work. He helps her by making sure no one steals whatever coin she's given." She laughed. It was dry and cold. It made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. "You see what I've been reduced to? I had a reasonably good life in Santiago. And now, I have to whore myself morning and night to keep mine and the child in scraps."
"I'm sorry, Scarlett... I just thought-" I began. She cut me off with another sharp laugh.
"No, Jack, you didn't. You just took." She pushed me out her door and let it swing shut. Feeling like the worst kind of cad, I dug into my pockets and withdrew a small bag of silver. I pushed it through a crack in the door and turned on my heel toward the port.
Here's a tip: the best way to get off an island if you don't have a ship of your own is to find a rig sailing out of Tortuga post-haste. They usually aren't looking for the best sailors and don't usually care to know your name.
That's how I ended up on the Vajrayana, an Indian merchant ship bound for its home country. I didn't care. My compass continued to point to the horizon, so I let it carry me. On board, only one other crewman spoke English.
Kavi wasn't much like any of the men he was sailing with. His eyes were a peculiar shade of brown, a spicy cinnamon color like the hide of chestnut mare. His jaw was strong and he was built sturdily. He stood at my equal height. He said it was because his father had been an English missionary, attempting to convert his village to Christianity. Instead, he ended up the converted and had married his mother in a Buddhist temple. And that's how he came to know English. As helpful as Kavi had proven to be to me, he was a terrible sailor, preferring to talk about his travels and ask me about my own than to attend his work.
On our fifth day at sea, the islands of the Caribbean behind me at last, Kavi and I were scheduled for the forenoon watch together. The quartermaster had instructed Kavi and I mend a line that had snapped high atop the mizzenmast. Kavi and I were expected to climb to the line, and while hanging from the rigging, braid the line back together. It normally wouldn't have been a two person job, but I didn't complain. I didn't even know how to talk to the captain, anyway.
Kavi climbed up ahead of me and was going to hold the sailcloth steady while I unhooked the line and performed the task. Of course, he chattered away at me when we'd reached the top.
"I can't imagine what it would have been like, facing down a mutiny. I wish I had met up with you when you were a captain, Jack."
I grinned at him, "Or, maybe you wouldn't have wanted to, mate. I was a much less likable man if I happened to have a cutlass at your throat, savvy?" I answered, beginning to weave the rope back together.
"Yes, but you don't understand how it is. I came to the Caribbean to find my Fortune, and here I am, sailing for home with nothing."
"You've got a good story, though. That's worth a lot," I answered, not really paying him much mind. Mostly, I had learned it was just easier to let the man talk.
Suddenly, a great gust of wind kicked up and the sail pushed out. I had been prepared, but Kavi had not. He let go the sailcloth and tumbled from his perch on the mast. I caught him around the forearm and he reached up to grasp my wrist as tightly as he could. Hanging from the mast as I was, I could not let go with that hand, and I hadn't the strength to haul him up.
"Just let me go, Jack!" He called up. Even as he said it, I knew I could not drop him. He hadn't the skill to grasp the dangling sail and slide down to the deck. And I wasn't about to lose my only means of communication with the crew and be responsible for a man's death in the same shot.
"Can't do it, mate. Just hold on," I called. In one motion, I let go of the mast and jumped onto the flapping sail. As I started to slide down, I noticed I as going much too fast with the added weight, so I pulled a dagger from within my belt and dug it into the cloth, slowing us down considerably. We landed safely on the deck at the captain's feet. As I had expected, he was not happy at the damage done to his sail.
He said something sharply in Hindi and two of the crew pulled me towards the mast. The divested me off my shirt and I readied myself for the bite of the lash. Though I'd never experienced it, I had seen the after effects, so I knew it wouldn't be pleasant. I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip as I heard the whine of the leather as it was raised and began it's fall toward my naked flesh.
However, when it made contact, I felt nothing. I turned to look behind me. Kavi was standing in the way, facing the bosun and the captain. He had left his powerful forearm to catch the sting of the lash.
The captain roared again in Hindi and Kavi responded in kind. The captain addressed the men holding me and they pushed me away. Kavi took my spot.
"Kavi? What the bloody hell are you doing?" I demanded, though it was quite clear.
"It wasn't your fault, Jack," he answered, wincing as the bite of the lash fell across his back. I made a move to block the second, but one of the crew restrained me. The man, who Kavi had pointed out as one of the master gunners shook his head to discourage me. I took it for sound advice, even as I looked on to see my only friend fall to his knees.
After the fourth lash, the captain laid a staying hand on the bosun's arm and spoke to him in Hindi. The bosun shouldered the whip and the rest of the crew followed suit, returning to their tasks. I went to Kavi's side. The captain approached and spoke in Hindi. I looked blankly at him and he tapped the mast and pointed to the torn sail. I nodded at him, but then pointed at Kavi then to the door leading below decks. The captain responded with a single nod and went back to take the helm.
The rest of the journey passed uneventfully. Kavi and I remained close and I taught him all I could about sailing. And, as we navigated around the horn of Africa and sailed north toward India, he told me what he could about life in India. His knowledge was limited to what he'd known growing up in a mountain village, but it helped.
But, as we approached our destination, we were beset by the worst sort of seafaring opportunist: the East India Trading Company.