The Trouble with Women
Chapter 22
Camaraderie
--
Slowly, Jack poked his head over the side of the ship, froze, and surveyed the deck. A hazy glow from the hidden moon cast an eerie silver light over the deck, that when mixed with the thick fog lingering about the ship, caused an unwanted memory to come unbidden to his mind. He almost expected a rotting corpse to spring out of nowhere at any moment, but silently laughed at himself for even thinking of such a thing. The ship's deck was near deserted with only one scruffy sailor on watch. He stood slumped over the wheel of the helm, snoring softly.
Jack grinned. Fools, he thought to himself, and pulled himself swiftly over the railing. His boots landed silently on the deck of the ship, and he listened to the creaking of the wood and the lapping of the waves below. From where he stood, he could see four of his men clambering onto the main deck from their rowboats positioned around the ship. The man at the helm didn't move an inch.
Behind him, Anamaria pulled herself onto the ship, leaned over the side and signalled for the next man to climb up. She stepped up beside Jack, eyes darting about the deserted ship.
"Not much to look at," she stated mildly in a hushed voice.
Jack nodded. "I still can't believe she managed to keep ahead of us for over a week."
"She must have a good Captain," the female pirate murmured back.
Jack spared her a sidelong glare before turning to help Gibbs struggled over the side.
"All clear, Cap'n?" wheezed the portly man, holding a hand to his gut.
"Aye," Jack smiled. "Remember the plan, mate. Be sure to send the boats back to the Pearlwhen we're all aboard, then spread out. Find the Captain and Belfast." He turned to Anamaria. "And you remember to keep out of the way and concentrate on finding Vivien, savvy?"
"Aye," both chorused quietly.
More than half of the Black Pearl's crew had stolen aboard now, and they had all gathered quietly to await their orders. Many already held weapons at the ready; pistol's drawn from belts and daggers in between teeth.
Unwilling to disappoint, Jack unsheathed his cutlass. "Then let's get to it."
--
Vivien awoke sharply, her eyes wide in the darkness of the small cabin.
Silence. What had woken her?
She lay still in the small cot. The blankets lay thin over her body, and the cool night air seeped through as if it were a sieve. Almost cautiously, her eyes moved to the porthole. A pale glow from the moon shone weakly onto the floor. She was aware of the ever present smell of the sea, as well as the musky dampness of the fog that engulfed the ship.
Yet, there was nothing to explain her current wakefulness. It was deep into night. She should have been sleeping.
She breathed shallowly, unwilling to move. The ship swayed as it always did, rolling gently as it was anchored in place.
Vivien closed her eyes with a soft sigh and rolled onto her side, bringing the coarse fabric of her blankets with her.
For several minutes, she hovered just outside the land of the sleeping.
Until, that is, a gunshot shattered the night time silence.
Starting up from the bed, Vivien hastily threw the covers to the side. Heart pounding, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and her bare feet touched the cool wood of the floor. Then, she sat and listened.
Gradually, there came the thumping of the crewmen as they were wakened from their hammocks. Yelling, shouting, banging. Men ran through the passageway's in every direction, the sound of steel being drawn in the midst of the fray.
Vivien started as another gunshot went off, and she jumped up from the bed.
There was only one name on her mind, one man who could have caused such a ruckus.
Jack…
Vivien's heart swelled with some unknown emotion, and she started purposefully towards the door. Her hand stopped inches from the knob, however, when she realized not one, but three things. The door was locked, she didn't have a weapon, and there were currently some very angry men out there, no doubt looking for someone to hurt…
Vivien decided quite suddenly that she would stay in her room and wait it out.
Or, rather, wait for someone familiar to rescue her.
Mais premièrement...she reached over to the table by the bed and plucked up the lantern. Quickly, she extinguished the candle and settled down with the lantern clutched tight in her hands. She wouldn't be caught defenceless this time.
--
Captain Antonio Elaido woke suddenly, a chill running through his body and a scream echoing in his eardrums. He lay bathed in a cold sweat, his dark eyes wild.
It had been he who had screamed in such anguish, in his dreams. He couldn't remember why.
The ship was silent.
Breathing heavily, his eyes darting about rapidly in the darkness of the room, he tried to reason with himself and shake the sound from his mind. There seemed to be complete silence on board…
But what was that?
He listened carefully to the sound of quiet footsteps above, on deck at the helm. Silence. Then a muffled thump. He frowned to himself.
He could hear several pairs of boots wandering about the deck. He couldn't recall his men taking to midnight strolls. Everyone should have been in their rightful places, asleep or on watch.
Something was wrong.
Carefully, he drew the covers aside and slipped from his bed. He wore nothing but a pair of breeches to bed tonight, and only because of the cool fog. Usually, he would sleep in the nude. Tonight he had not. All he needed to do was slip a shirt on and find his weapons.
His pistol was on the desk. His cutlass hung from the chair along with his belt. Almost as an afterthought he slipped on his overcoat embroidered with silver stitching and buttoned up the middle button.
Slowly, he approached the doors leading from his cabin on deck. He could still hear the soft footsteps around his ship, multiplying by the minute. Like little mice sneaking about under the cat's nose. He had a nagging suspicion of what was happening and had no intention of letting it go as planned.
Jack Sparrow would not recover his precious Vivien Brideau tonight.
Pistol in one hand, he turned the knob on the door, stepping forward the slightest…and threw it open with a startling bang.
Within the few seconds after the door flew open, Antonio raised his pistol with a snarl on his lips.
The nearest intruder went down with a bullet lodged in his head.
The whole deck had been alerted when he had opened the door, and now the whole ship had been alerted by the gunshot.
The result, quite believably, was unrestrained chaos. La Sangre de Mar's men burst from below with feral cries on their lips, weapons drawn. The crew of the Black Pearl met them with gusto.
Antonio Elaido drew his own sword and threw himself down the steps with a yell.
--
Although in the beginning Anamaria had been somewhat put off by the orders Jack had given her, she was well aware why he had done so. Besides to peeve her, of course, she knew that he trusted her to get the job done. Less could be said for others aboard the Pearl and she thought it had something to do with them being men…
But Jack, no matter how much he denied it, did care for the strange Frenchwoman in much the same was Anamaria herself did. She suspected, however, that his manner of 'liking' had more to do with the fact that Vivien was a woman and not a complete frog. While Jack was smitten, Anamaria was amiable towards Vivien because she was, well, friendly. And terribly amusing.
So, she took her orders in good stride. And seriously.
By the time the first shot had been fired above, Anamaria was already scouring the decks below for a lone, locked cabin that could contain the imprisoned woman. And when the men aboard the ship began thundering up to the main deck, she slipped easily into the shadows between some stray barrels and waited it out, watching the stream of men scramble about half-dressed and groggy.
They would be no match for the Pearl she told herself with a grin, and moved on when all was still below once more.
Above, the fight raged on.
--
As much as it might have chagrined his dearly departed mother, it was completely true that Jack Sparrow enjoyed a good battle every now and again. No, not that he enjoyed the loss of human life or the blood that stained the decks. It was something else entirely from that. More of the rush he got every time a crazed lunatic wielding a sword came rushing at him screaming and he managed to successfully best him.
Yes, that was it.
The adrenaline rush. The excitement. The camaraderie. Jack Sparrow loved every moment of it.
Proof of that was evident when the crew of La Sangre de Mar came pouring up on deck in the dim moonlight. The crewmen of the Pearl had been ready, throwing themselves into battle as one of their comrades lay dead on the deck with a bullet in his head. This only spurred their cause. Jack had raised his cutlass and met the rush head-on, meeting each thrust of a sword that came his way with a skilfully placed strike of his own.
The man he was currently fighting had a long, ugly scar running down the side of his face and a cutlass that was twice the size of his own. No bother, however. He wielded the large weapon without skill or experience.
Jack met a stroke meant for his throat, stumbling slightly before shoving the man away.
"For having such a large sword, you certainly can't do much with it, can ye?" he quipped to the man as swung again. It was well known that Jack enjoyed sparring words just as much as weapons, even when his opponent wasn't likely to understand him…
Jack listened with a slight wince to the string of Spanish curse words that flew from his opponent's mouth as he blocked another strike.
"Now, now, a hairy monkey with no testicles? That's a bit harsh, mate…" he stated with mock reproach, while at the same time thrusting his cutlass towards the man's stomach.
It was parried swiftly.
Frowning, Jack hit again, but his opponents weapon swung back unexpectedly, slicing off a nice corner of Jack's shirt.
"Oi! I don't have a bloody seamstress onboard!" Jack glared as if wounded, and the man grinned with a row of yellowed teeth as he raised his sword once more.
Fortunately, or unfortunately for Jack, a moment later the man was dead. Another sword had speared him straight through the chest. Wrinkling his nose, Jack watched as the dead body slid to the deck, revealing a red-faced Gibbs with a bloodied cutlass.
"And I was just about to finish the bugger off!" Jack said testily.
The portly man shrugged helplessly. "It looked like ye needed a spot of help..." he paused. "Shouldn't you be findin' the Captain o' this cursed vessel?"
Jack froze in mid-retort. "Ah yes, the—" He was cut off at Gibbs's frantic cry.
"Behind ye!"
It was a very good thing that Jack happened to have quick reflexes, as if he had turned a bit slower there would have been a sword though his side, precisely where the liver was located, and no doubt that would have been extremely painful. As luck would have it, however, he just managed to meet his attacker's weapon with his own, albeit somewhat awkwardly.
Jack glared at his opponent. "Now, what is it with you Spaniards? Cheaters the lot of you!"
The man before him suddenly seemed to shrink. "C-cap'n?" he sputtered.
Jack stared at the man incredulously. "Louis?"
Louis, as it was indeed the former crewmate, immediately lowered his weapon, lurching away as if burned. "Cap'n?"
"Former Captain," Jack corrected, eyeing him. "Should have known a coward like you would be here."
Louis frowned and raised his sword. "Coward?" he repeated dumbly.
"Aye, coward! Going against me orders, attacking a member of me crew, making deals with the enemy. I'd say you're well on your way down hell's path! Now stop repeatin' me words and fight!" Jack shouted, then turned swiftly and delivered his heel of his boot into an opponent's stomach. The man sank to the deck as Jack swung back around to face Louis, face stormy. "Raise your weapon, coward!"
The former crewmember seemed surprised before it suddenly seemed to dawn upon him that they were now enemies. He scowled. "So be it, shrill-gorged snipe! You'll die on the steel of my blade!"
Jack snorted. "When you stop spouting poetry we'll see if you've the chance."
Louis spat angrily and swung boldly. The two weapons met with a deafening clang that rang into Jack's bones. He grinned at the Frenchman over the locked blades.
"Now, why don't ye tell me where your new Captain's hiding?" he asked.
Louis pushed away roughly, unlocking the swords. "He isn't my Captain, fool. I'm merely along for the ride…as payment for my helping him find you," he grinned crudely, swinging again.
Jack smiled as he parried the blow easily. "Ah, then I suppose he won't miss you much, eh? Now that he's found me?" he asked, and stomped down solidly on his opponent's foot before slicing him cleanly across his hand.
Louis dropped his sword with a yelp.
And then, Jack's pistol was under his nose and there was suddenly no use for a sword.
Louis was horrified. "Tricheur!"
Jack glared at his former crewmember. "Pirate, you backstabbing frog. I may as well slit your throat now," he growled lowly.
Louis stared at him wide-eyed.
With a look of disdain, Jack delivered a swift blow to Louis's temple with the butt of the pistol. His sword fell from his limp hands and he fell heavily against the rail of the ship. It took only a slight push to send the unconscious man falling to the water below. Jack watched the descent before turning, sword at the ready.
The battle hadn't calmed even as blood stained the decks.
Jack needed to find the Captain.
--
Anamaria padded near silently through the belly of the ship, poking her head into doorways and peering into storage cupboards. She wasn't positive where Vivien was, but she figured that she had been locked away in either a small guest cabin or the brig. The brig was less likely, but it certainly wasn't out of the question.
She planned to check every cabin before making a trip down to the hold, however.
The female pirate had just exited the crew's quarters when the sound of footsteps reached her ears. Hand on the hilt of her cutlass stuffed in her belt, she shrank back into the shadows, eyes trained on the passageway outside the room.
Moments later a tall, somewhat elderly man passed into view, carrying a pistol in one hand. He was out of her sight within another second, but the image of him stuck in Anamaria's mind. He was much too well-groomed to be an ordinary crewman. The Captain, she wondered?
Or someone else of importance?
Smiling darkly to herself, Anamaria slipped from the crew's quarters and followed the sound of his sea-boots on the wooden floor. Quietly, she slipped her cutlass from her belt and gripped it tightly in her hand. She stepped behind several barrels to hide herself and assumed watching the man. He stopped near the quarters near the end and faced a cabin to the side. The door was closed.
He fumbled a moment with his pockets, and Anamaria caught the faint glint of metal in the dim light.
Keys.
Vivien was inside that cabin.
--
"Antonio Eliado, Captain of this rotting Spanish vessel, I presume?" asked a confident voice from behind said captain as a blade of cold steel slid carefully along his neck.
Antonio, who had since fought off five men, killed two and gathered only a few scratches along the way, froze in his boots. He stood at the helm, overlooking the battle as he took a break from the fighting. How anyone had managed to sneak up on him was beyond the Spaniard. Clearly this man was very self-assured.
"Sí. And who might you be?" he questioned primly, tightening the grip on his sword, preparing to drive it backwards into his assailant's stomach.
The blade at his neck dug in the slightest and the man tsked to himself. "Not so fast, mate. Drop it."
Antonio's teeth clenched, but he dropped the weapon nonetheless. It fell to the deck and he was left helpless.
"So, what's the Captain of this vessel doing up here, I wonder? Hiding, perhaps?" the man wondered smugly.
Antonio's lips lifted in a sneer. "Merely…overlooking the outcome of the proceedings." His fingers moved slowly towards the pistol tucked in his belt.
"What an eloquent way of putting it," his assailant mused. "I think we both know, however, that the outcome of said proceeding are in my favour. And, if I might say…you're aren't up here watching. You're up here saving your own skin. Now tell me, am I right?"
Antonio's fingers froze just as they touched the butt of his pistol. Eyes widening slightly, he craned his neck back in an attempt to see his attacker.
"Capitán Sparrow?" he asked, an amused grin curling his lips.
"Aye," Jack spoke briefly.
Antonio's fingers curled slowly around the pistol. "We finally meet…albeit under somewhat strained circumstances."
Jack's eyes flitted to the ongoing battle below. "A fitting meeting, methinks, considering our positions."
"Enemies?" The Spaniard asked, and tugged the pistol free.
Jack grinned, letting his sword dig into the man's neck a bit more. "Mortal."
"Ah…too bad," Antonio sighed, reaching around to press the nose of the gun into Jack's side.
He froze, eyes darting briefly down to the pistol. Then, grinning, he slowly began to ease his cutlass from the Spaniard's neck. "You're sneaky, I'll give you that. But ye won't kill me with one shot, mate, not before I've sliced your throat."
Elaido realized the truth of his statement. "Alright. Truce?"
"I'll give ye five seconds." Jack removed his sword from Antonio's neck as he moved away from the gun.
In turn, the Spaniard dove for his sword as soon as he was free and was back on his feet and facing Jack within the allotted time. The pistol was once again tucked safely in his belt, and he noticed that Jack too had a gun. He had been wise in going for his sword and not trying to shoot Jack.
They faced each other, Jack inspecting the rings on his fingers while Antonio stood with his sword ready.
Jack squinted absently at the man before him. Long dark hair, dark eyes, well-proportioned face and fancy clothes with several glittering rings. He couldn't help but think Antonio Elaido was trying to impersonate him. Yet he was definitely not as attractive! Certainly not!
"You're filthier than I imagined," the Spaniard spoke bluntly, taking in his opponent's appearance.
Jack grinned, swinging his cutlass. "I'd imagine so! I'm a pirate after all."
Antonio frowned. This man seemed to take pride in his dirtied appearance and disreputable occupation. Of course, he himself was a bit of a pirate, but he considered himself with more class than men of Sparrow's line of work. He didn't raid and pillage for the pleasure of it—he did so if paid a very good sum of money.
"Where's your ship, Capitán?" he questioned.
"She's watching," Jack answered simply. "Now are we here to fight, or are we not?"
Antonio smirked, and they began to circle. "What? No demanding where your dear French damsel has gotten to?"
"She's safe. You, however…I've my doubts about you." Jack returned the smirk and beckoned the Spaniard forward.
Elaido sneered. "Foolish pirate!" he spat, and lunged forward, sword aloft.
Jack met the attack with a mad grin.
--
Vivien crouched in the shadows by the door, lantern clutched tightly within her grasp. The doorknob to her room rattled slightly as someone attempted to open it, jiggling the key about. There was a soft curse, and she heard the lock click. She watched it with wide, frightened green eyes.
An orange glow from the lanterns hanging in the passageway seeped into the room as the door swung open, shielding her from view. A dark figure stepped in, swathed in shadows. Vivien, however, knew who it was by his stance. By the sound of his rattling breath.
Belfast.
She sank further into the shadows as he stepped up to the cot.
"Vivien, my dear, I know you're in here. There isn't anywhere to hide," he cooed gently, leaning over.
Vivien wasn't fooled. Beneath his sweet tones was a hard man. A hard man spurred on by greed.
Earlier, she had stuffed her cot with her pillow and arranged the sheets to resemble a small form—herself. Now, as he stood at the edge of the bed, Vivien knew it was her time for escape.
The moment she stepped into the light of the open doorway, however, she heard the sound of a pistol being cocked behind her.
"Oh, come on now, Vivien. You didn't honestly think you could fool me, did you?" he asked darkly. "Now, turn around slowly and don't make a fuss. You're pirate captain is here and you'll do nicely as a bargaining chip."
Vivien bit her lip, legs trembling, and glanced down at the lantern in her arms. It was now or never, she decided with a shaky intake of breath.
Several things then happened in very quick procession.
Swiftly, she turned, and grasping the lantern's handle firmly, she lobbed it at Belfast's head. Then, she watched in horror as it shattered on the bulkhead by his shoulder, and he, surprised by the sudden move, fired the pistol. Vivien collapsed to the floor with a shriek even as the shot went wild, hitting the door.
Anamaria, who had been just outside the cabin, jumped into action as she heard the gunshot. She ran into the room, cutlass in hand—only to trip over Vivien, who was still huddled on the floor. She fell heavily onto her side, skidding to a halt at Belfast's feet as her weapon clattered out of her grasp.
He recovered quicker than any of them, and swiftly snatched up Anamaria's fallen cutlass.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he grinned, holding the weapon readily.
"A large, decrepit rat," Anamaria spat, struggling up from the floor to sit awkwardly before him.
"Careful with your tongue, lassie," Belfast sneered. "Vivien, get up!" he ordered.
Eyes narrowing, the female pirate shot a hand behind her in warning. "Stay where ye are," she commanded Vivien firmly, who froze on her knees, eyes wide.
"And who do you think you are, lassie?" Belfast demanded irately, cutlass pointed at the mulatto woman's chest
Anamaria smirked as if knowing some sacred secret. "Second mate to the Black Pearl, ya buffoon!" Then, swiftly, she shot one foot up and knocked the cutlass from his grip with her booted heel. The weapon sailed through the air and landed atop the small cot. Belfast started towards it but Anamaria threw herself at him with a growl. "Get the bloody cutlass, Vivien!" she shouted, pulling the large man to the deck with her.
Panicked, Vivien did just that, scrambling up from her knees to pounce upon the cutlass as her friend and guardian wrestled upon the floor. Grabbing it by the hilt, she whirled about just in time to see Belfast overtake Anamaria and pin her to the floor.
"Anamaria!" she squeaked, holding the weapon awkwardly.
Growling, the female pirate twisted beneath Belfast madly, managing to dig her nails into his wrist. "Stick him with it, ya fool!" she shouted.
Belfast freed his hand and struck her across the face. His eyes were wild. "Don't you dare, Vivien!" he shouted.
Pulling her other hand from his grip, Anamaria punched him solidly in the nose. "Shut yer trap, old man!" She felt her strength waning. "Vivien!" she shouted irritably. "Slice him open with the bloody cutlass!" She yelped as he slammed the back of her head against the floor and lights exploded in her vision.
The Frenchwoman watched in horror as Belfast wrapped his large hands around Anamaria's neck. The cutlass weighed heavy in her hand, and she was almost unwilling to use it. But if she didn't…
Cringing, she came to Anamaria's aid. But instead of using the blade, she whacked Belfast hard on the head with the hilt. He fell limp atop the pirate, a groan dying on his lips.
She dropped the weapon as if it were a snake and hurriedly rolled her guardian from Anamaria's body, who coughed, and pulled the man's hands from her neck.
"Took ya long enough," she grumbled, struggling up from the floor.
Vivien grabbed her arm as she swayed, feeling foolish. "Sorry," she stated meekly.
Shaking her head clear, Anamaria pulled away and retrieved her cutlass. "Aye, well…" she paused and smiled at the Frenchwoman. "It's nice ta see ya, lass."
Vivien managed a shaky smile. "You too, of course." She suddenly felt elated. "But it took you long enough!" she retorted good-naturedly.
The mulatto woman grinned. "Belfast here's a slippery bastard." She kicked said man in the side.
As Vivien's adrenaline rush wound down, she once again heard the sound of battle above.
Anamaria read her thoughts. "Don't worry lass. The Pearl's men are twice the fighters these Spaniards will ever be." She lofted a brow cheekily. "And we got Jack."
Vivien's chest tightened at the pirate captain's name, although not in a bad way. She could scarcely believe how much she had missed him! What had changed, she wondered, from the days when she had cowered when he merely turned an eye on her?
"It'll be over soon," Anamaria spoke. "We should go before we're missed."
Nodding her agreement, Vivien watched as the other woman knelt beside Belfast's prone form and began search his clothes. Just as she was about to ask what she was doing, Anamaria stood up with a ring of keys dangling merrily on her finger.
"First, however, we'd best lock this weasel up tight."
--
Jack's very teethrattled in his gums as he blocked another stinging blow from the Spaniard. Despite his confidence that he would emerge from this little scuffle victorious, he admitted to himself that he had underestimated Antonio by far. After all, just because one was rubbish at captaining didn't mean one was equally horrible at swordplay.
Jack figured that if the Spanish captain had been as skilled at sailing as he was with a blade, he might have been more of a threat. But, as it was, the fight on the main deck was beginning to loose it's fuel as more and more of Elaido's crew were defeated. His, however, was just getting interesting. The two of them fought around the helm as if on some great stage as both their crews battled it out below.
Grinning, Jack landed a swift slice across Antonio's vest. A thin trail of blood was left in the blade's wake, but that didn't deter the Spaniard. He lunged across the helm, aiming to skewer his opponent. Jack was too quick, however, an deflected the blow with an upwards stroke.
Furious, Antonio struck again, driving Jack back towards the side of the ship with hard thrusts of his sword. Thrice he managed to land shallow slices on the other man, and the moonlight caught the blood upon his sword as he struck again.
Jack stumbled over a coil of rope and his back hit the side, a slow hiss of pain escaping from between his teeth. Antonio stood before him with his sword ready to strike.
It wasn't the end however. Jack Sparrow always had an abundance of tricks up his sleeve. Quickly, he caught hold of the shrouds and swung himself up, narrowly avoiding the sword. Now, feet planted firmly upon the rungs, he grinned down at Antonio.
"Now, now, mate, don't go cutting up your rigging."
Snarling, Antonio drove his sword through the ropes at Jack, who dodged easily and began clambering up the incline, albeit awkwardly because of his sword.
"Come down here, Sparrow!" the Spaniard demanded loudly.
"Actually, I'm quite fine away from your sword! Savvy?" Jack called back down, sheathing his weapon as he caught sight of a line hanging limp from the yard above him. Grinning, he leaned outcaught hold of it. Glancing down once more at Antonio, who seemed content to watch him from the safety of below, Jack launched himself from the rigging and into the foggy night.
He was halfway around the mizzenmast and very near to sailing out over the dark waters when he realized this wasn't one of his smartest ideas. Brilliant, yes, but sensible? Hardly. A wordless shout tore from his lungs as he spun, body suddenly boneless.
Below, Antonio watched with disbelief as Jack clung to the rope, swinging around in a wide arc before it caught on an adjacent line. Flight halted, the pirate was thrown boldly from the rope and tumbled into the battle on the main deck. Within seconds, he was lost amidst the men and darkness.
Growling irritably at both Jack's gameness and his own inability to defeat him, Antonio bounded down the steps to the main deck.
It was a very good thing that Jack had the ability to bounce back from most things, or he was sure he would have been lying on the deck like a limp pile of jelly. Jelly in pain. As it was, however, he managed to stumble upright just in time to deflect a sword strike from an enthusiastic crewman. He managed—weakly—to push the man away, and at the same time caught sight of two of his crewmen standing back to back, swords upraised. Kamau and Fowler, just the two men he needed.
It was time for the Black Pearl to make her grand entrance.
He fought his way over, ducking swords to avoid being nicked (which worked less than proficiently), and nearly collapsed on the side of the ship beside the two men.
They stared.
"Cap'n?" Kamau ventured.
"Sparrow! You coward of a dog!"
Ah…yes…Jack turned sharply, spying Antonio thundering through the battle with a snarl on his lips. He grimaced before facing his men and lowering his sword to speak. "The signal! Now is a very…very good time," he stated breathlessly.
"Aye, Cap'n!" Fowler answered.
Jack whirled back, nodding hurriedly. "Good man."
And then he had jumped back into the fray.
Kamau looked to Fowler, who began to sift through his pockets, looking for something. A man of La Sangre de Mar came screaming towards them in a mad fit, cutlass raised to kill. The black man glanced once at the Irishman (who was still busy with his pockets), before swinging his own weapon, hitting the cutlass out of the man's hand and delivering a hard punch to his nose.
The enemy pirate fell to the deck with a wheezy groan.
Kamau turned his attention back to Fowler just as he came up from his pockets with a triumphant look.
"Got it, then?" Kamau asked wryly.
"Aye!" the Irishman exclaimed enthusiastically, holding what looked to be a rounded flask with a fuse out of one end.
Kamau grinned. It was a handcrafted grenade. The signal.
Suddenly, however, Fowler's smile fell and he gave his companion a reproachful look.
"You haven't something to light it with, would ye?"
--
Young Roberts, temporary Captain of the Black Pearl, paced about the helm anxiously. The few men who had stayed aboard with him had long since hauled the boats back aboard, and now they were waiting. Waiting as the sounds of battle across the murky waters continued.
Captain Sparrow had said he would recognize the signal when he saw it, but what if he didn't? What if he missed it? If he was facing the wrong way when it happened, or if he was too distracted to notice? What if, at that very moment, everyone was being slaughtered because he hadn't had the sense to recognize the signal when he saw it?
What if…?
As Roberts was facing La Sangre de Mar as he stood at the helm, he had a clear view of 'the signal' when it happened.
A bright flash of fiery light accompanied the a thundering boom carried through the fog as a grenade exploded over the water.
That—that was it! Robert's face lit up with glee.
"Raise anchor!" he called down to the men onboard. "Captain Sparrow's calling!"
A cheer rose aboard the Pearl as the men crowded around the capstan.
--
Anamaria glanced up at the hatch leading up to the main deck. She was somewhat leery of leading Vivien up the ladder if there was still fighting above. However, it seemed as though she had little of a choice. She couldn't wait any longer and risk being discovered and trapped below.
She glanced back at Vivien, who stood behind her with a white face, trembling.
"It's think it's time we get back aboard the Pearl, eh?" She cocked an eyebrow at her companion.
The Frenchwoman managed a weak smile.
"Come on, then." Anamaria ascended the ladder quickly and pressed her hands to the hatch above. She listened a moment before pushing it open. Then, pulling her cutlass from her belt once more, she slipped out onto the deck.
Vivien watched anxiously as the female pirate crouched down beside the hatch.
"Come on!" she urged.
Shakily, Vivien made her way up the ladder and through the hatch. She flinched at the sound of battle, which was much louder up on deck.
"Now's no time to be fainting," Anamaria reminded her, and took a firm hold on her arm before tugging her along, away from the hatch.
Vivien glanced around the deck as Anamaria led them around the fighting men. There weren't many left fighting, a testament to the pools of blood creeping along the wood at her feet. She attempted to avert her eyes from the sight, but she couldn't ignore the killing going on around her.
Anamaria noticed her pale face.
"Don't worry, lass. Jack don't take to killing like most, so we tend to knock 'em out instead of gutting them. Most the men you see are unconscious," she assured her.
Her words didn't help Vivien however. She noticed with some panic that the Pearl was nowhere in sight.
"Where's the ship?" she asked as Anamaria pulled her beside a stack of crates, away from the fray.
The mulatto woman grinned. "I reckon she'll be here any moment…"
Then, as if her very words had summoned it, Vivien watched as the giant, ghostly dark shape of the Black Pearl burst suddenly through the fog on the starboard side like a wraith from hell.
She leaned against the side of the ship with relief as the Pearl's men cheered loudly. An answering call was heard from the dark ship's deck. As well, those still fighting for La Sangre de Mar seemed to realize they had lost the fight. Already, men were being rounded up and tied around the masts. Few were resisting.
Anamaria grabbed her by the wrist. "Come on. They'll come up alongside. We'll have to get aboard quickly before the cannons start firing!" she hissed, and began pulling Vivien towards the stern.
"Cannons!" the Frenchwoman was aghast, looking around wildly. "Surely you aren't going—" She stopped dead in her tracks as she caught a sight that froze her insides.
Huffing irritably, Anamaria whirled about. "What're ya—" She was cut off by Vivien's gasp.
"Jack!"
Sure enough, across the length of the ship, at the bow, was Jack Sparrow, currently engaged in a heated fight with Antonio.
Anamaria cursed. "That the Elaido pansy I've been hearin' about?"
Vivien nodded wordlessly as she watched the men spar, a look of both awe and horror upon her face. Thrust…block…swing…parry, the swords clashed loudly and she winced at each strike. She cringed as she watched Jack narrowly avoid being sliced across the stomach.
"Damn the man!" Anamaria cursed, torn between cheering her captain on or calling him a fool.
Abruptly, a grappling hook fell to the deck beside her before being pulled back and catching the ship. Anamaria turned to see the Pearl gliding beside them, not five yards away. The men were already laying out the boarding plank and tossing ropes to board La Sangre de Mar. She glanced back at the fight between the two captains.
The two men seemed to be locked in a battle of strength now, their swords crossed near the hilt and neither wanting to give in. They struggled for a few agonizing moments before Jack gained the upper hand and turned them sharply. The Spaniard's back was to the steps leading down from the forecastle. With one last shove, Jack sent Antonio tumbling down them.
His battered form lay crumpled upon the deck, motionless.
Vivien could have whooped for joy, but she was still shaking too violently for such things. Instead, she let a relieved sigh escape her lips. Her eyes were trained on Jack as he climbed wearily onto the side of the ship, one hand grasping a line.
"Load the cannons, ye swabs!" he called to the Pearl from his perch. "We have ourselves a victory!"
Eagerly, men began to swing back aboard the Black Pearl. Antonio Elaido's crew had surrendered, weapons clattering to the deck as their hands were bound and they were secured to the mast. The Spanish Captain's sudden demise seemed to be lost within the ruckus and excitement.
Vivien felt someone grab her by the shoulder, and she turned sharply, breath hitching. Anamaria, now a sweaty Gibbs, stood before her.
"We'd best get aboard, lass," the portly man told her. "Reunions later, we promise." He winked with a grin.
Vivien opened her mouth, hesitating. She looked back at Jack, wanting to protest. Whatever words were on her tongue died instantly.
Antonio, unwilling to be defeated, had shrugged off the effects of his fall and was now struggling upright. Although his clothes were stained with blood, he seemed very much alive—and very much angry. He held a pistol in his hands.
Jack, unawares, stood facing his ship with a grin.
Ignoring Gibbs and Anamaria, Vivien darted forward. "Jack!" she shouted urgently.
He turned swiftly at the sound of her voice, eyes searching for her among the men. She seemed, however, to be suddenly invisible and unable to help him. Vivien watched with growing horror as Antonio fired. The deafening report echoed loudly in her ears. Time didn't seem to hasten. It slowed.
She stood immobilized as Captain Jack Sparrow fell.
--
Translations:
Mais premièrement...- but first...
Tricheur - cheater
Sí - yes
Capitán - well, I would think that obvious...
-Cayenne Pepper Powder