Chapter 3

Barbossa woke shortly after midnight. For a moment he lay still, enjoying the silence. At least he'd got a few hours' sleep without a major crisis. First mate? He felt more like a nursery maid. He'd done everything but wipe Sparrow's backside, and the journey wasn't over yet. What else would Sparrow expect him to do?

He sat up, threw off his blanket, and reached for his stockings and boots. His stockings hung on the chair by his bunk, but as he picked them up, their unexpected weight slid from his hands.

"Now what?" He hefted the stockings off the floor. Odd, round lumps distorted them both. Barbossa slid his hand gingerly into his stockings and pulled several apples out. He set them on the chair. Sparrow! What kind of joke was the captain playing now? Abruptly the monkey chattered. Barbossa turned. Sir Francis Drake sat at the foot of the bed, wearing a full suit of clothes. Fancy ones, too, with stripes and red ribbons and puffy white sleeves.

Barbossa chortled. A monkey wearing clothes? The captain didn't know when to quit. Barbossa pulled on his stockings and boots. Sparrow should have been a court jester rather than a pirate. But the apples looked first-rate, unblemished and golden. And the monkey seemed to enjoy his new clothes. Barbossa could swear he was primping, though he couldn't imagine how Sparrow had managed to dress the monkey, considering that he threatened to shoot Sir Francis at least twice a day.

The monkey skittered up to the chair and snatched one of the apples. He took a bite. Barbossa laughed.

"You are puttin' on airs, Mister Sir Francis Drake. Maybe I shoulda given you a simpler name."

Barbossa took the apple from the monkey's hand and had a bite himself. It was crisp and delicious. Not green, which was his favorite, but at least Sparrow could pick good apples. However, if Sparrow thought a few apples and a dressed-up monkey was going to placate his first mate, he'd best think again. Hector Barbossa couldn't be bought off that easy. Collecting his hat, coat, and the monkey, Barbossa went up on deck determined to be a first mate this time and not a nursery maid.

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The fog had thinned out a good deal, and the first thing Barbossa concerned himself with was the broken mast. In the dim starlight, the mast appeared sound. From the earlier reports and the amount of wood on the deck, he'd expected the damage to be much worse. But now, standing on the deck, he could see no damage at all. Blasted hands, exaggerating everything. Only three days, and already they'd been around Sparrow too long.

But the deck was immaculate, with not a bit of glass or wood in sight. And the rum had all been mopped up. At least the men had done a good job of that.

As the ship raised up in a swell, something small rolled across the deck. Sir Francis ran to fetch it and handed it to Barbossa. It was a perfectly round piece of wood with a knot on one side that bore an uncommon resemblance to a human eyeball. Well, if Sparrow could play tricks, he could, too. One-eyed Ragetti was always whining about his eye patch. It was scratchy and didn't fit right and kept falling off at inopportune moments. Barbossa would give this thing to him and see if anyone laughed.

Last he'd seen of Ragetti, the man was stretched out on the deck next to the reindeer. Ragetti was still in the same place, fast asleep, with Pintel lying nearby. But there was no reindeer. Barbossa walked over and kicked Ragetti in the foot.

"Where's the animal?" he asked.

"Huh? What?" Ragetti struggled to sit up.

Pintel woke, too. They both seemed stunned that the mysterious red-nosed reindeer had vanished. Their bellowing roused the rest of the crew and soon all were searching the ship, stem to stern. Even Sparrow dragged himself into the hunt. The crew found the ship in perfect order, mast and all, everything unexpectedly clean, but no uninvited livestock.

"Not even a mouse," the cook reported. "It's odd."

"But the mast fixed? The reindeer gone? And clothes on Sir Francis?" Barbossa said. "Sparrow, how did you manage it?"

"Manage what? I didn't do a thing," the captain said. "If I did, there'd be rum here, and you don't see any rum, do you?"

"Who else could it have been? What about the apples in my stockings?"

"You think I put them there? Why would I give you apples? And by the way, your monkey looks ludicrous."

Barbossa snorted.

Suddenly Sparrow took out his compass. He spun to the left. "Hold now, we should go this way."

Through the clearing fog, they could just make out a small, solid glimmer against the dark sea.

"Land ho!" Pintel called out.

Sparrow nodded. "Our little island."

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