The following chapter contains some harsh language. Reader discretion is advised.
- Chapter 2: 'Saint' Samuel Augustine -
"People I've loved
I have no regrets
Some I remember / Some I forget
Some of them living / Some of them dead"
- Foo Fighters, Home -
-//-
After Jack left London, he had moved west to the Welsh shipping port of Cardiff. He trekked the docks until he came upon the Zenith, a single-mast sloop that had seen her better days some twenty years prior, being loaded with iron ore, oats, and barley to be shipped to nearby Bristol. The condition of the Zenith's captain could be described in the same manner as his ship, weathered, tired, but adamant. 'Saint' Samuel Augustine's health and dexterity had declined in recent years, but he was too stubborn to give up a life under sail entirely, Samuel resigned himself to stay within the merchant shipping lanes surrounding Britain.
'Saint' Samuel Augustine was not a particularly religious man. Samuel was unceremoniously sainted by the late Captain Teague years before when he'd lost a card game to him in the Haitian port of St. Nicholas. As happened, he also bared an uncanny resemblance to Saint Nicholas, for whom the port was named, with a waist length beard. But the main reason that Teague gave him the nickname was from the presents, in the form of payments, he received annually from Samuel in order pay off his debt to Teague. Few people knew of this arrangement as per understanding between the two men.
As decades passed, a partnership deeply rooted in mutual respect had formed between the two captains that could better be described as friendship. Anyone seeking reinforcement of this fact need only look as far as Teague's home base in Madagascar, Saint Augustine's Bay, which he named after Samuel.
When Jack spotted Samuel at the base of the Zenith's gangplank, the weathered captain was vulgarly berating a young deckhand for spilling a bushel of fruit on the dock, and at one point, kicked him in the backside as the lad frantically tried to pick up the littered fruit.
Samuel suddenly cut off from reprimanding the unfortunate young man when he noticed Jack from the corner of his eye. He snapped around to face Jack and in a moment the length of two heart beats, expressions of fear, anger, and rancor flashed in waves across the elder man's face. Jack slowed his pace and Samuel continued his intense glare, his face changing from ashen back to his usual hue of sea-worn red. As Samuel studied Jack's dark and ornamented tangles, blackened eyes, and weathered complexion, Jack sensed that Samuel was not seeing him, but someone else entirely. In Jack's mind, he had no doubt that Samuel was envisioning a walking ghost of his departed partner.
The deckhand had also noticed the sudden shift in Samuel's focus. Still scooping bruised fruit into his arms, he bounced questioning glances between his captain and to the man unknown to him. When Samuel dismissed the deckhand with an agitated wave of his hand, the young man shot Jack a look of gratitude for saving him from further tongue lashing before scurrying up the gangplank to the Zenith, fruit in hand.
Even being plagued by incessant sore muscles and stiff joints in his legs and back, Samuel's forearms were still the girth of tree trunks and his mind remained sharp as glass and Samuel was either confident or stubborn enough to stand his ground and welcome any approaching threat. He made no attempt to meet Jack halfway and remained firmly planted in place with his arms crossed and skeptical glare unwavering.
"I'll tell ya first off that I'm not surprised to see ya here, boy," he stated dryly while extending his hand in a similar dry greeting.
Since the first time Jack had met the man nearly thirty-five years ago, it had always been 'boy'. He didn't care for it then and cared less for it now and felt certain that Samuel knew this but obviously didn't care. As he had learned from debates past, there would be no changing Samuel's mind once set, and he saw no sense in arguing with him now about something as insignificant as an ill-favored nickname when more important matters were at hand.
Jack met Samuel's handshake and felt his knuckles crack under the man's thick fingers.
"So, the droll boy who don't see it fittin' to take his father's name finds it redeemin' to lower himself to seek his killer?" Samuel either didn't bother to wait for a response or care to have one, he was stating his opinion and nothing more. He instead addressed Hector when the dog padded up to his master's side.
"That cur is ugly as shit. Told y'old man the same thing." Samuel bent down and scratched Hector behind the ear.
"Ain't that right, pup?" he said, pleasantly welcoming the dog. Jack noted how the greeting he received was the exact opposite of Hector's.
"As you have already presumed, the untimely and ultimate death of the aforementioned antecedent is me purpose for droppin' by. For if there be such a man who could enlighten me on the man's final business transactions, in order derive a more probable and better understanding of accounts during his last days, I find meself hoping to gain audience with that very person whom said deceased always claimed as his most credible ally... and would be you, Saint Samuel Augustine." He said, his voice rank with distain. Perhaps 'boy' annoyed him more then he cared to admit.
After hearing that Teague had revered him in such a high manner openly to his wayward son - and ignoring Jack's tone - Samuel straightened and his boorish exterior softened. He regarded Jack silently for several minutes as an apparent second wave of nostalgia washed over him.
"Y'old man was the only one I ever let call me that. I suppose it's suitin' to be comin' from you." He spoke finally and motioned for Jack to follow him aboard the Zenith. "We'll not speak on this here."
--
"Sit yerself there, boy." Samuel directed Jack to a chair tilting against the wall of his cabin while heaving himself down in the chair behind a small desk.
"So," Samuel continued, still dry but cordial, "ye've taken up wit y'old man's Lady?"
"Aye, I have," Jack answered, positioning the chair near the door and taking a seat as Hector curled at his feet.
"Good. She should be kept in the family... since she was named after yer mother n'all." Samuel fell thoughtful a second and then quirked a curious brow. "What ya doin'bout the Black Pearl?"
"I'll be gettin' her back, keep faith in that. This side venture reared its infringing fangs and consequently took top priority."
The idea that Jack Sparrow would temporary neglect his famous obsessive hunt for Hector Barbossa and his ship dispelled any lingering doubts Samuel felt about Jack's seriousness in avenging his father. He visibly became more open to communicate with the dead man's son.
Samuel removed a decanter of gin from the top drawer of the desk and filled two glasses to the brim. He handed Jack a glass and lifted his own, and toasted, "To the Pirate Lord of Madagascar. To the Keeper of the Code. To the man himself, Captain Edward Teague. May his soul sing eternally in the Buccaneer's Heart!"
"I'm sure he and Mary Read will get along famously," Jack said sarcastically and met Samuel's glass with his own.
As Samuel emptied his gin in one pull, Jack threw back a respectable amount and set his glass on the table. Gin was not his forte.
"I'll tell ya, when I first heard that Edward... " Samuel's voice caught in his throat for a second and he decided he needed more encouragement before he could continue. He downed another glass. "When I first heard what happened, I thought it was all jus' piss in the wind, a tall tale, a damn hoax. Then I heard it again, and again, and again after that." Samuel grew quiet for a long moment, as if organizing his thoughts into fact and fiction while absently stroking his beard. "I believed then," he said with a deep sigh.
His face turned red with anger. "Not right. None-of-it. There used to be honor in this world," he said with an irate wave of his weathered hand. "Even our world. That's what the Keeper stood for: honor." Samuel narrowed his eyes and asked, "Where be the Code, boy?"
"Safe."
In Jack's mind, he figured Samuel would rather not have the liability of knowing the Code's whereabouts. It seemed accurate as Jack's vague answer pacified Samuel enough for him to continue.
"So, a pirate be who yer after?"
"And an agnate one, as it were."
"W' New Shipwreck's coordinates barely known to mos' pirates, it would seem that way, ey?"
The tensing of Samuel's eyes was scant, but the involuntary flinch was enough to indicate to Jack that Samuel himself did not know the location of the new pirate capital.
"How exactly did you arrive at the notion that the rumor have fact base?"
"Erik."
"Johannes?"
Samuel nodded. "Letter baring his seal arrived..." his eyes and voice dropped, "confirmin'... " He then straightened and regained his composure. "Have ya spoken to him yet?"
"On me way back," Jack answered, motioning over his shoulder to the far off Caribbean.
"Who have ya spoke to?"
Jack spread his hands out wide implying it had been many and Samuel nodded.
"The Lords?"
"All but one... also on me way back."
Samuel nodded again, then tilted his head and asked inquisitively, "Santangelo?"
"Least helpful thus far," Jack answered with a twitch of his nose. "Then again, it would seem entirely impossible for Villanueva to divulge a lifetime's gatherin' of valuable information and have it retained by that dolt." Jack snorted. "Hector here would prove more useful," he said, motioning to the dog curled around his feet.
Samuel's lack of argument confirmed that he held the same low opinion of the newly appointed Lord of the Adriatic Sea.
"Does the name Godenot mean anything to you?" Jack asked, moving the conversation forward.
Samuel ran his hand down over his beard in thought. "No," he said earnestly. He cocked his head to one side. "Does it to you?"
"The name's come up a few times in my inquiries, deckhands and Lords alike."
Samuel's hand paused in the center of his beard and his eyes narrowed. The thought that Samuel had not heard even the slightest mention of Godenot from Johannes was odd, especially when considering Samuel's close association with him through Teague. Samuel smoldered on the thought for a few seconds more, clenching the glass in his hand until a hairline crack formed down its side.
"Ever met 'im? Johannes?" He asked flatly.
"No."
A wicked smirk cracked Samuel's face. "Ya'll like 'im," he said, although his tone implied the opposite.
Jack's eyebrow quirked and he waited for further explanation, but Samuel continued to speak of Teague's other partner in a business appropriate tone.
"Yer father, God rest 'im, was sly as a weasel but Johannes is slippery as one. Looks like one too, he does. The Misty Lady and the Grenadier be two tangled harpies whom merchants fear and the Navy shies away from." He poured himself another drink and topped off Jack's cup. "Made a lot of money wit y'old man, he did. Surprised he has not contacted ya hisself to continue w'that profitable pairin'. But, now-that-I-think-'bout-it, the man never embarked on nothin' on his own."
"I wager not all alliances be based on equal standing... such as yers and his." Jack said, unsure what compelled him to voice the cheap shot.
Samuel slammed the bottle down, splattering gin over the desk, and shook an angry fist at Jack.
"I mean no disrespect, boy, but that bastard was a cheatin' sonofabitch!" Samuel's tone was sharp enough to cut the very ore he shipped, but his eyes exposed his own amusement with his situation with Teague. "He swaggered into that pub like he owned the place, hold, he swaggered around like he owned the whole damn island. With that gaudy feathered hat, ruffles 'bout that blood red frock... he wanted attention and got it from everyone alright. Stepped up and commandeered the card game, he did, the arrogant bastard. Bet the table a right sum he'd win the hand.
"Queens and sevens I had. Somehow, that sonofabitch comes out wit' Kings and Jacks. Just like that I find meself handsomely indebted to the man up to me own ass." He pounded his fist into the desktop. "I tell ya, there was no bloody way he could'ave pulled that off fairly. Not a damn fuckin' way! If I ever figure out how that feckless bastard did it, I tell ya I will hunt him down in Hell and kick his bilgy ass!"
Jack couldn't help but chuckle at Samuel's blustering. Teague was just as proficient navigating a deck of cards as he was the waters of Madagascar and never needed to resort to cheating, although Jack wouldn't put it pass him if he had. He suspected Samuel held the same opinion but would never say so and admit he'd lost fair and square.
"Sonofabitch," Samuel grunted under his breath before pitching more gin to the back of his throat. He settled back into his chair and stared off distantly with a faint smile on his face. "I was down to owin'im the final payment when he passed. Bought the finest wine, enough for the entire crew, and we drank to his memory until we were all ass up drunk."
"He'd appreciate that."
"Thought so." He looked back at Jack. "I can bitch and moan all I want 'bout loosin' that bet, but I tell ya in all honesty, even with paying him back, it was a profitable loss and I be a richer man for knowin'im in more ways than one. I will never sail with another the likes of 'im and am too old to even start lookin'. Now I sail the English waters and return every couple days to the wife."
"I'm sure she enjoys havin' ya around more often."
"She's drivin' me fuckin' nuts!" He snapped, but with an affectionate gleam in his eyes.
"Now that you are not venturin' beyond the Navy trolled shallows, the deep-drafted Indiamen returning fat from the Spice Islands must sleep a bit easier at night."
Samuel appeared flattered, just for a second. "Aye, " he said as he rested back heavily in his chair. His eyes dimmed and turned forlorn.
Jack recognized this downtrodden shadow of self-loathing. It was worn by many aged seamen facing the inevitable truth that end of their career was approaching. If the Fountain of Youth deigned to elude him, Jack hoped to be taken before his eyes ceased to shine. He drank to the oath by swiftly downing the gin in his glass.
"What were his last actions?" Jack asked, drawing the elder man back into the conversation.
Samuel tensed. His eyes darted about the cabin as he hesitated.
Jack leaned forward. It took all his patience to keep his tone neutral. He did not have time for diffidence. "Tis why I'm here."
Samuel sighed, conceding. "The last months that he was... we lost contact," he said quietly, his voice thick with guilt. He began to turn the glass in his hand, watching the light pigment in its crack. "Per praxis, the Zenith sailed to be meet the Lady at Sao Tome and divvy up spoils... but the Lady ne'er showed. Waited for twenty days. Would'ave waited longer but we were low on provisions. Crew voted and we left. I'd be thinkin' y'old man found a hefty prize more worth-his-while to chase if he'd see fit to miss our exchange. Well... turns out there be some truth in that."
His eyes fixed on Jack's indicating that what he was about to say was to remain between them. Jack nodded and Samuel continued, his eyes returning to the glass pivoting in his hand.
"A letter from Edward found its way to me hands at Perim," Samuel said in a low voice. "T'was wrote on Company parchment -"
"Stolen."
Samuel completely ignored the comment.
"- with the coat-o-arms of a Commodore Greitzer."
"Do you still have this letter?"
Samuel nearly laughed out loud. "Bit incriminating piece-o-paper don't ya think, boy?" he jeered incredulously.
Pushing his glass away, Samuel squared himself with the desk, his great forearms draped across its top. He puffed his cheeks and let the air out slowly, bracing himself for the secret he was about to reveal. He talked with a tone reserved for eulogy, solemn but even, as he recited the letter verbatim; his sun-reddened skin washed pale and the lattice surrounding his eyes deepened into crevices. He didn't blink and appeared to be holding his breath. If it wasn't for his mouth moving, Jack would suspect him dead.
Teague had given no apology or explanation for his absence at their scheduled meeting. After what sounded like several superfluous sentences about unseasonably cold weather, Teague described in great detail that the Misty Lady was setting course to intercept a valuable shipment of cargo that was drifting into the hands of the East India Trading Company. No heading or date was given.
"I realize now, by the time I got the letter, Edward was already dead," Samuel concluded and relaxed back in his chair. He looked smaller somehow, as if a weight had been lifted from his body.
The contents of the letter were not particularly intriguing or helpful. It was what Samuel was not saying that caught Jack's curiosity. Samuel would never utter a word on the subject, and certainly kill any man who'd dare, but his suspicions that Teague was involved with Commodore Greitzer in matters that were not to the benefit of the Brethren leaked threw his hardened shell like corrosive bilge. If Jack were a less respectful man or ignorant to the history behind Samuel and Teague, he would have vehemently confronted Samuel on his disloyal skepticism. Jack knew that Samuel would have tried everything in his power to forcefully squelch any ill thoughts he had against his esteemed partner. Even with Samuel's persistent dogging getting under his skin, Jack respected the man and never doubted his trueness where Teague was concerned. If Samuel had qualms about this Greitzer, then perhaps he was worth further inquiry.
Jack decided to probe for more information about Teague's induction as Keeper of the Code in hopes it would indicate anyone from his father's distant past that may have gestated a long-lived grudge.
"Let's venture a step back, shall we. What can you recall about events leading up to the title of Keeper being filled?"
Samuel appeared pleased that the subject had been changed and answered the new question in a lecturing tone. "Pirates, rough and unfettered as we be, owe much of our existence to the order the Code brought amongst these waters. Morgan and Bartholomew, buccaneer prophets they were, but their laws for the lawless would've amounted to nothin' without someone enforcin' 'em. So, the Court asked the one man they believed best for the job.
"Majority of the local gentlemen supported the idea." Samuel started listing off names, raising a different thick finger as he went. "Tew. Every. Condent. LeVasseur. Even England and Taylor and those two ne'er agreed on nothin'. And why not? Edward be one-of-the most feared and influential pirates of all of Madagascar, perhaps the world. He tolerated none of this 'guidelines' nonsense. The Code was law and that-was-that. He'd ne'er take the credit, but I tell ya I am sure as shit that it be Edward who laid down the lines for maroonin'." Samuel cut off long enough to tip his glass towards Jack with a crooked smirk on his face. Teague marooning his son for three days had been no secret and Samuel had always found it amusing.
"Now, I not be saying that wit' all his accomplishments and credits and e'en support of the Lords, that Edward was without hindrance. When the Court 'proached y'old man and he then resigned as Lord and took up as Keeper, some noses were thrown outta joint. 'Parently, everyone was only thinkin' of their own wants.
"Imagine that," Samuel grunted, "even I thought that he may pardon me of m'debt. I was wrong." He smirked at himself and continued, serious again.
"There's potential power in enforcin' such laws, as it would seem be the opinions of the skewed faces, but that's only 'cause they didn't see the big picture. The purpose of the position is to enforce the Code," he said, tapping the desk with his finger emphasizing every syllable, "not to rule those who follow it. Protection of piracy in general.
"In Madagascar alone, without his Lady 'bout to fortify the Bay, the southern coast of the island and the Channel are left open and vulnerable to attack. Edward's presence alone kept enemies distant, even if merely rumored. That's the measure of his influence. Scared outsiders feckless, he did. Scared the spineless feckless to be without him.
"All piddlin' details, though. Mostly... it be jealously and nonsense," he paused, and then said with a pointed look, "such as the man's son becomin' a Pirate Lord."
"I earned the title of Lord of the Caribbean Sea by me own boons," Jack said coolly, his hands unconsciously curling into fists. He'd played a large part in ridding the seas of Davy Jones and the wretch Beckett, obtained the highest bounty of the Lords and that mule fodder had to be brought up. His father had nothing to do with any of these accomplishments.
"I'm suggestin' nothin', boy, only passing along an opinion made by someone else," Samuel clarified upon seeing Jack's reaction, saying his words intentionally slow. "I don't care how ya got where ya be. For me, doing what y'are now proves yer worth ten-fold."
The paltry opinions of others about his status in the Court never concerned Jack in the slightest. He cared not for their approval or rejection. For reasons indefinable, and equally puzzling, the approbation from Samuel proved validating and his hands relaxed.
Jack sat in silence as he absorbed all that Samuel had said. None of the information regarding Teague's position as Keeper of the Code, whether positive or negative, was surprising. After all, when dealing with an ocean of wood-headed scallywags and sea dogs, one could never please everybody.
"Don't know what else I can tell ya," Samuel said after a moment, "other than it's gettin' harder to make an honest life at piratin'. Even after the victory at Old Shipwreck, old alliances have been broken and pirates are turnin' 'gainst pirates. The Company keeps pushin' new trade restrictions. The Navy valiantly increasin' its numbers wit' stronger ships carryin' more guns. There are less and less free ports out there and the few that are left are becoming less tolerant to those following our kilt.
"Condent, the miserable bastard, somehow married and retired to France. Tew's dead. England's been gone for months. Kidd got his ass hung. Edward's... well, y'already know," he said with his eyes focused on the desktop. "Shit, look-at-me. Instead of a honest pirate, lightenin' the Company's hulls and profits, I be nothin' more than a dishonest merchant and I tell ya the only thing that differs 'tween the two is one's legal and one ain't."
At the end of his rant, Samuel took another drink of gin, this time directly from the decanter.
"Legitimacy has its perks. Less chance of gettin' gibbeted, for one example," Jack commented, after Samuel had fallen silent, lost in his reverie of past ventures.
The man tipped the decanter towards Jack in agreement. "Jus' imagine my carcass swingin' o'er the Thames," he said dryly, and then, grinning brightly, said good-heartedly, "they can hang me up next to Kidd."
Jack's grin and tone mirrored Samuel's. "Would take more than two ropes to snap that neck of yours... if it be half as thick as your head."
"Aye, I do miss the chase," Samuel said leaving Jack to wonder if he meant chasing the Indiamen, or being chased by the Navy.
"'Round the Cape to Madagascar,' that is what Edward said," Samuel started, animating his fervor with a great whorl of his thick arm. "Pillage the Indian Ocean. Plunder the Red Sea. Raid the coasts of Africa. Moors, English, Hindi, French, Spanish... every last one! "Take all we can' he said."
"Give nothin' back!"
Samuel's zeal was infectious and excitement rose within Jack. Even Hector yipped with enthusiasm.
"Aye! And we bloody hell did," continued Samuel, enthralled in his elation. "Filled our hulls to their brims. Left the company scuppered and sobbin' for their mommas."
"Pilfered your weasly black guts out!"
"Aye!" Samuel pounded the desk. "All who opposed us found their keels rottin' on the sea bottom! Victorious blaggards we be! Glory and bounty sought and captured! Carved our names into the backbone of pirate history!"
Suddenly, Samuel grabbed the gin decanter by its neck and sent the bottle crashing into the rear wall of his cabin.
"What be the fuckin' point of any-of-it now?" He shouted, standing abruptly and shaking with rage brought on by a flash flood of anger. "For the rein of piracy to continue, we need captains with ambition, Lords with sharp minds and a swingin' pair of stones, and a noble, stouthearted man with prudent faith in the Code to bridle all ruffian sons of the sea!
"Without these, I-I-," Samuel cut off mid-sentence and slammed his fist down against his glass, shattering it across the desktop. Leaning over and steadying himself on the desk while clutching his chest, he took several long breaths to calm his racing heart. Jack remained primed to rush to the man's side, fearing that he'd drop dead from his outburst, even as Samuel straightened and composed himself.
He managed to get his voice under control but his eyes still burned with the same fire when they returned to Jack's. "I fear, boy, that perhaps in your lifetime, the age of piracy will come to an end as we know it. What a bloody shame that'll be."
"I once was told 'No course is lost if but one fool is left to fight.' Be there one brazen soul, following in suit of the Code, the age of piracy will forge ahead relentless."
Jack stood and extended his hand, which was promptly closed within Samuel's thick fingers. They shook and perhaps for the first time in his life, Jack felt that 'Saint' Samuel Augustine viewed him as an equal and no longer as 'boy'.
"Much appreciative for the -" Jack started, but was cut off by an impatient wave of Samuel's left hand.
"There be only one way to thank me," Samuel said. Instead of releasing Jack from the handshake, his grip tightened and he drew Jack towards him.
Samuel's voice darkened, colored by malice. "Find the bastard... and kill 'im."
Notes:
The Buccaneer's Heart was a magic medallion fabled to have held the spirits of the most famous pirates, including Edward Teach, Bartholomew Roberts, Henry Morgan, and Mary Read. The POTC short story says that anyone wearing the medallion could control these spirits. In my opinion, Teague would definitely have a place next to these legendary pirates and he would prefer to get next to the lone female in the group. ;)
Thomas Tew, Henry Every, Christopher Condent, Olivier Le Vasseur, Edward England and John Taylor were all historical pirates who sailed the waters of Madagascar during the late 1600's into the early 1700's. England and Taylor were once partners until England was removed from captaincy and marooned after he showed mercy towards an English merchant ship. Taylor then partnered with Le Vasseur and went on to become one of the most successful pirates of the area while England died a poor man.
William Kidd was found guilty on charges of murder and piracy and was hanged at London's infamous Execution Dock on May 23, 1701. During his execution, the noose broke and Kidd was hanged successfully on the second attempt. Afterwards, his body was gibbeted- left to hang in an iron cage - over the Thames River for twenty years intended as a warning to deter any would-be pirates.
The first and only English attempt at colonizing Madagascar was by the merchants William Courteen and Thomas Kynnaston in 1644 at the southwestern tip of the island in Saint Augustine's Bay. Drought and hostile natives forced them to abandon the colony. Many native tribes accepted pirates when they would ally with them against enemy tribes. It was not uncommon for pirates to marry into the tribe.
The Channel that Samuel mentions is St. Mary's Channel that runs between Madagascar's western coast and the island of St. Mary's. The Isle of Perim is located at the southern base of the Red Sea.