Chapter 23 – New Beginnings
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"You miss him, don't you?" Giselle asked her friend, Scarlett, who was staring forlornly out the shop window.
Scarlett tossed her head and picked up her sewing. "Don't be ridiculous. I was just resting my eyes."
Giselle came around the counter and busied herself straightening the items on the shelf that ran the length of the room. "Nothing wrong with missing him, Letty." She glanced over her shoulder at Scarlett, who didn't look up from her sewing. "Lots of girls have a favorite. Look at Sally. She always had a soft spot for Josh Gibbs."
"I don't have a soft spot," Scarlett said with an impatient wave of her hand. "Captain Thomas showed us great kindness and generosity, that's all. We both have much to thank him for." She sighed, shoulders drooping. "You should know better than me."
"He saved my life." Giselle agreed, joining Scarlett by the broad window in the front of the dress shop. "And even if you don't have a soft spot for him, I know for a fact he has one for you."
Scarlett raised a brow. "Really? Did a certain little bird we know tell you that?"
"The little bird, he has flown, no?" The lilting French accent of Pierre floated from the rear room. The diminutive dressmaker followed, carrying a tray with an assortment of cakes and pastries, along with a steaming pot of tea. "Absence rend l'amour plus, oui?"
Scarlett stomped her foot. "I am NOT in love."
"I was not speaking of you, mademoiselle." Pierre set the tea tray down on the low table next to where the women were sitting. He gestured to Giselle to pour. "I refer to le Capitaine Sparrow." He continued with a smug look, straightening his cuffs and smoothing his hair.
"Jack?" Both women asked in unison.
"Who's he in love with?" Giselle asked.
Pierre didn't answer, just puffed up his chest and busied himself with his tea.
"You?" Scarlett laughed. "I could see him taking a passing fancy, Jack does love the exotic." She patted Pierre's arm and added affectionately, "But don't be getting your hopes up, dear. Jack is as capricious as the gods."
Giselle puzzled for a moment. "What's capricious mean?"
Pierre sipped his tea and dabbed his mouth daintily. "Fantasque. Lunatique. Délicieux."
"Did you just call Jack a delicious lunatic?" Giselle snorted.
"Something like that," Scarlett smiled. "Anyways, I heard the Black Pearl was last sighted somewhere around Martinique. Perhaps he is looking for some French wine or other "delights" to surprise you with, Pierre."
Pierre smiled. "Perhaps."
"And perhaps Thomas is doing the same for you," Giselle added slyly. "He certainly seemed smitten while he was here."
Scarlett stood up with an impatient groan. "Would you please stop? Thomas is gone, probably halfway around the world by now. He won't be back." She set her sewing aside. "Now if you'll excuse me." She turned briskly and walked to the back of the shop and the stairs to the living quarters above.
Giselle watched her go, a sad sigh escaping her lips. She wished with all her heart she could find a way to bring Captain Thomas back. But, being a realist, she knew Letty was probably right. The pirates and privateers that frequented this town were as unpredictable as the weather. For every ounce of sunshine it seemed there followed a bitter pound of rain.
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Scarlett bit her lip and fought back the tears that threatening as she looked out onto the street below the narrow window of her room. Tortuga was beginning to stir along with the setting sun. Soon, the town would be in full stride, the taverns and whorehouses bustling with sailors, all looking for a good time to be had.
A life that she once lived, in what seemed a lifetime ago. Thanks to the generosity of Thomas and Pierre, both she and Giselle had been offered a new beginning. No longer having to scrounge a marginal existence as a whore, the two women were now gainfully employed at Pierre's dress shop – Scarlett earning her keep with her needle and thread, while Giselle, and her cheerful persona, tended the adjacent notions shop with surprising aplomb.
At first, the days had passed in a blur of activity, as the empty storefront had been transformed into a Parisian style shop, complete with an elegant window display and fitting area fit for a queen. The coup de grâce came when the proprietors of the notions shop across the street put a For Sale sign in their shop window, leaving Pierre's "Femme Fantaisie" with no competition to speak of. The "Fancy Lady" as Giselle called it, did brisk business, leaving Scarlett little time to lament over the loss of her previous life. As it happened, there was nothing about it she missed. Not one thing.
Except Thomas.
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"Sail ho!"
Captain Thomas shielded his eyes from the sun. "Colors?" he shouted up to his lookout.
"Too far off t' see. Looks t' be a four-master, ridin' low."
Thomas grinned. It had been several days since they'd spotted a potential prey and his men were getting restless. A fat prize such as this was long over-due.
""Let go the top-gallant and the top-sail halyards!" He shouted to his crew. "Let go the tacks and sheets! Haul up the courses!"
The men scrambled to comply, the adrenaline of the chase infecting all the men aboard the Giselle. Thomas kept a steady eye on the prize, as the distance closed between the two ships. The merchant ship appeared not to have seen them yet as she serenely moved along, close-hauled under the main-top-gallant-sail, in all the confidence of the solitude of the ocean.
Thomas shouted up to his man aloft. "What'da ya make of her?"
"She's flying French colors, Cap'n," the call came from above.
"A fine prize she'll be," Thomas grinned. "Sheet home the fore topgallant sail! Haul away your halyard! And run up the French colors."
The two ships were within hailing distance by the time the other ship finally noticed them. It appeared the Giselle had caught the ship while most of the crew were below, either at breakfast or asleep in their hammocks. The Giselle were first seen by the mate of the watch, who ran to the rail and, instead of giving an order to call all hands, to their surprise, he hailed them.
The Giselle's second-mate answered, mumbling his words so, that, if they were perhaps bad French, they were certainly not good English. He got out the name "La Giselle, de Bordeaux," which seemed to mystify the mate for a few seconds. By this time, the hail had been heard below, and the Frenchmen came tumbling up by the dozen, forward and aft.
"Give that rascal a shot!" Thomas called, grinning widely, and instantly a swivel gun fired from the Giselle's bow. At the same time he ordered their true colors to be run up. This served to so terrify the crew of the French ship that the prize was won with nary another shot fired.
Thomas sent his first mate to take possession of the prize, with directions to secure all the prisoners and to send the Captain of the ship and any passengers onto the Giselle.
"Come on, boys!" the first mate shouted, as he and the other hands swarmed over the rail, boarding the Frenchman like a full-blown hurricane. Instead of a furious hand to hand conflict they found the deck practically deserted, and had no difficulty whatever in taking possession.
The crew was rounded up from where they'd taken refuge below decks and soon were huddled together in abject submission and fear around the main mast. The passengers especially were terrified of meeting with severe and cruel usage at the hands of the fearsome pirates. The Giselle's first mate endeavored with great courtesy to assure them that their fears were altogether groundless, and that they would find a generous enemy in Captain Thomas, but it appeared they either did not understand the language or chose to not believe his assurances. A boat was then lowered, and Captain and passengers were sent on board the Giselle.
Thomas strolled across the deck to where the frightened group stood bunched together, eyeing the women with a frank and appreciative smile, causing the younger one to blush despite her terror. There were five passengers in all, consisting of a matronly woman with grey hair and two young ladies of apparent wealth and breeding, judging by their dress. Accompanying them were two older gentlemen wearing equally fine attire, rich merchants from the looks of them. The Captain of the captured ship stood aside from the group, proud and defiant, head held high, he alone showing no fear of his impending fate.
"Your name?" Thomas asked the Captain without preamble.
"Capitaine René Drouin. My ship is the La Victoire, bound for Marseille. I carry no gold, only textiles and other commodities. Please, take what you wish, just do no harm to my crew."
Thomas laughed, arms folded, he rocked on his heels as he observed the fearless mariner in front of him. "Oh, we plan on taking whatever we want; otherwise we would not have boarded your ship. As for your crew, they will not be harmed, as long as they cooperate."
"And what of us?" A trembling voice asked. "You did not mention your passengers, Captain Drouin. We paid you good money. Are we to be left to these barbarians?"
Thomas whirled and stabbed a finger at the spokesman for the French passengers. "I would watch who you are calling barbarians. Unless that is, you wish us to behave as one?"
"Papa! Être tranquille!" The older of the girls implored, her blue eyes wide with fright.
"Your father perhaps would like to bargain for his release?" Thomas noted the fine silk of the girls' dresses, the glittering jewelry around their throats. A very rich family, from the looks of it. Chances were they carrying more than cotton and tobacco back to France.
"Search the ship," Thomas called over to his men. "Lock the crew in the brig, take anything of value."
The crew made fast the two ships, running a gang plank over to the French ship and began hauling bales and casks from the hold. Captain Drouin, resigned to losing his cargo, watched impassively. His passengers were more distraught. As one of the Giselle crew members appeared carrying a large sea trunk, the younger of the two girls watched in dismay, before bursting into tears, her mother doing her best to console her.
"Yours, I gather?" Thomas said to the sobbing girl.
She nodded and whispered, "My trousseau."
"My sister was to be married when we arrived in Marseille. My papa has sold everything, to pay for our passage and the wedding. You rob her of her one chance of happiness." The older girl stomped her foot in anger. "You claim you are not barbarians but you act like one!"
Thomas grabbed the girl by her arms and pulled her to him. Staring into her eyes, he said through clenched teeth, "I beg your pardon, mademoiselle. Me and my crew have spared your lives, all of you. If what you say were true, I would have ravaged both you and your sister right here, on this deck, with your parents as witnesses. And, being nothing more than a barbarian, would have then thrown you to my crew, to do with you as they wished." He pulled her closer until their faces were inches apart. "Perhaps you would prefer I act like a barbarian, mademoiselle?"
The young woman, to her credit, did not back down, but stood trembling in front of him. Thomas, after a few minutes, released her with a laugh. "Your bravery is to be commended, but will not win you back your possessions. And, as I have taken a fancy to them, I would like the dresses you and your sister are wearing as well." At the shocked expressions on their faces, Thomas laughed even louder. "Just the gowns, you don't have to worry about your virtue being taken."
Several hours later, the now subdued and defrocked passengers were escorted back to the French ship, and were soon nothing more than a speck on the distant horizon. The haul had been a rich one. The cargo, consisting of bales of cotton and tobacco, sugar and skins, would bring a good price. The casks of wine and rum assured the crew would have a merry time of it before making port. The bonus items, the bundles of muslin and raw silk, would make one ex-patriot Frenchman very happy indeed. Thomas hummed merrily to himself as he headed for the helm. He could think of no better place to dispose of such valuable cargo than the lusty pirate port of Tortuga.
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Jack Sparrow glanced left and right before slipping down the alleyway between the two buildings, feeling his way by instinct in the inky blackness of the night. The ringing footsteps of the nightly patrol could be heard on the cobbled street ahead, making their rounds to assure the citizens of Port Royal could sleep safely at night.
Jack, who had no intention of sleeping at all, waited a minute more before tapping quietly on the door behind him. After several more minutes, and several more taps, the wooden shutter on the window to the right of the door opened and a pale face peered out into the darkness.
"The shop is closed," a familiar voice said firmly, before the shutter was pulled shut.
"Bugger." Jack picked up a good sized rock and lobbed it against the window. The shutter immediately opened again.
"I said…"
"…the shop's closed. Yes, I heard you the first time." Jack hissed. "Now, if you would be so kind…"
"Jack!" Will Turner stuck his head out at the sound of the familiar voice. "What are you doing here? Are you crazy?"
"Of course I am. Now are you going to let me in, or do I have to break down the door?"
"Hold on, I'm coming," the muffled response came, as the head disappeared and the window banged shut once again.
A moment later a thin stream of light trickled out into the alley, as Will opened the back door to his midnight visitor. The smithy looked exactly as Jack remembered it, down to the donkey slumbering peacefully in the corner. He looked around, half expecting to find Mr. Brown, whose shop it was, sleeping off his evening libations. The only smithy present though, was the tousled-hair, bleary-eyed one standing in front of Jack, wearing only a pair of breeches and a puzzled look on his face.
"Why are you here, Jack?" Will asked again, holding the lantern up so he could see the pirate better.
Jack brushed past him and tossed his hat neatly onto a peg on the workbench. "I should be asking you the same thing," he said casually over his shoulder, patting his pockets before producing a small package with a flourish.
"I live here, Jack. Where else would I be?" Will set the lantern on the bench and folded his arms across his bare chest.
"I would have thought you'd be happily married by now, William." Jack glanced at Will and added with a smirk. "Snug as a bug in the Governor's mansion, with your dearly beloved by your side." At Will's downcast look Jack modified his tone, asking simply, "You are going to still marry the winsome wench, are you not?"
Will shrugged, scuffing the dirt floor with his toe. "If she'll have me when she returns."
"Well, then. I suppose you won't be needing this any time soon," Jack said, returning the parcel to his pocket. "Looks like you might could use a bit of this, though," he added producing a small flask of rum from the other. "You said she'd gone?"
Will declined the offer of rum. "Her father's idea. To send her abroad until the gossip died down." He shook his head, his voice bitter. "Society frowns on young ladies fraternizing with pirates. Which brings me to my first question, just why ARE you here, Jack?"
"What? You are not pleased to see me?" Jack spread his arms wide. "I am cut to the quick, I am, Will." Jack blinked and gave Will his most sincere smile.
After a moment, Will smiled as well. "Yes, Jack. It is nice to see you, alive and apparently well. Though you're taking a great risk coming back here. Commodore Norrington is still out to hang you when he catches you."
"If he catches me." Jack modified the statement. "Besides, I won't tarry long, just thought, seeing how I was in the area, I might look up an old friend."
"Where are you heading?" Will asked nonchalantly, not quite able to conceal the curiosity in his voice. This fact was not lost on Jack.
"No where in particular. Not much in the way of action this time of year. Might head towards the Bahamas, the Pearl could use a good cleaning." Jack studied his nails and added casually, "Could use a good first mate. Seems AnaMaria would rather be off fishing than doing a speck of honest pirating."
"I'm not a pirate," Will said.
"Could have fooled me. Pirate's in your blood."
"Well, then it is going to skip a generation. I am staying here, and marrying Elizabeth."
"If she'll have you. Or," Jack pointed out, "if she even comes back."
"I'll take my chances."
"Pity. Well, then, I suppose there is nothing left but to wish you the best, Will Turner." Jack fetched his hat and placed it firmly on his head. "If you change your mind, you can always send word by way of Tortuga."
Then, without further ado and a swirl of coat tails, Jack disappeared once more into the night.
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