Book Five – Chapter One: After World's End

Jack roamed about Biscayne Bay. Mr. Gibbs must have had more difficulty finding a strong vessel and a dependable crew than was originally anticipated. He had been delayed for a long while and the wait made Jack uneasy. He feared that Barbossa may have seen enough of the chart to plan a clear course. If it was to be a race to the finish, Jack knew that he was falling behind. If Gibbs was going to take much longer then Jack was determined to simply mount back aboard his pittiful excuse for a boat and head north on his own. He would be no match for an encounter with the Pearl, and alone he couldn't hope to overtake the captainship.

While waiting, Jack noticed a small band of young boys trying to sneak into a shop window. Jack couldn't help but laugh at the amateur attempt at thievery. A light flickered in the room above. As the light briefly dimmed, it grew again, illuminating the whole room. Someone had heard the rustling downstairs and lit an oil lamp. The boys panicked and scattered back down through the streets. The smallest of them, who had been lifted up to the window, was left with his legs dangling from the sill. He shouted to his mates to help him but they fled the scene without looking back. The small boy struggled but his shirt had become caught on the ledge. Tugging at it didn't help so he had no choice but to let himself drop, tearing his shirt.

The owner of the shop had run down to the main floor and began shouting at the potential robbers.

The boy jumped onto his feet and ran, looking behind him the whole time in fear that he would be caught. He was. Unexpectedly, the boy ran head first into Jack.

"Whoa there, son," Jack said.

The boy was completely panic stricken. He tried to rush away in the opposite direction but Jack grabbed his arm.

"If you run you're guilty. Just stay put," Jack warned him.

The shopkeeper came bursting out of his door.

"Alright! Where are you?" the large man cried out, lamp in his hand, a cane in the other. He looked directly at Jack.

Jack didn't wait to be addressed.

"Street urchins," Jack said calmly. "They didn't get far."

The shopkeeper checked the state of his window. Nothing seemed to be broken. He found the torn piece of cloth on the sill.

"Godforsaken place with its heathen brats!"

The man saw the boy hiding behind the captain.

"And this one?" the shopkeeper asked, raising his cane.

"Saw the whole thing," Jack said, "didn't you, lad?"

The boy was struck dumb for a moment. He looked up at the captain and then back at the shopkeeper who appeared to be a very unforgiving man. Instinctively drawn to the idea of survival, the boy nodded his head profusely.

"He's got the look of guilt written all over him," the shopkeeper snapped.

"Course he does. A boy that age is always to be found guilty of something. I only just now caught the devilish lad sneaking gin out behind his poor sick uncle's back. Slapped him upside the head I did. Taking him now to his father where he should get a good whipping."

The shopkeeper was frustrated. He was ready to unleash his anger upon the boy, but the story made his judgement unclear.

"Tell me then," the shopkeeper said pointing his cane at the boy, "what urchins where they, then?"

The boy fumbled with his words due to his nerves but eventually he told the man that they weren't local boys. They were off the Spanish ship, Neptunus.

"Bloody pirates," the shopkeeper grumbled.

As satisfied as he could possibly be with the story, the shopkeeper gave a grunt and a general warning about how he'd gut the next urchin to try to rob his shop. He then went back inside.

The boy's panic faded when the shopkeeper's light went out again. Exhaustion swept over him as he began to loose focus and sway a little back and forth.

Jack put his hand on the boy to steady him.

"You alright, there, urchin?"

The boy broke out of the daze and shrugged the hand off of him.

"I'm fine."

"You make for a poor thief, but you're a good liar, I'll give you that much," Jack said.

"I'm not a liar. Or a thief," the boy protested.

Jack laughed.

"Suit yourself, lad," Jack said, and began to walk off.

"Wait!" the boy called, chasing after the captain. "I was telling the truth, about the ship and the Spaniards."

"As you say. Frankly I don't really care. Off with you, now. If you run you might still be able to catch up with your mates."

"They're not my mates. I don't want to go back. You've helped me already, Sir," the boy said.

"Go home, kid. You're not ready to be handling the streets on your own."

"That's what I'm trying to do," the boy said sounding disheartened.

"Look, I don't have time for this," Jack said, leaving the boy standing there dumbfounded as he walked away.

Jack was impatient for Gibbs's arrival. When he saw his first mate, he couldn't have been more relieved.

"'Bout bloody time! Tell me that we have a ship," Jack begged his friend.

"Aye, Jack, that we do," Gibbs answered proudly. "Scouted her coming into port not an hour ago."

"But you've secured it?"

Gibbs's prideful eyes tightened into a wince.

"Must I do everything myself?" Jack sighed. "And the crew?"

"These brave souls here," Gibbs said, pointing to three men who stood nervously off to the side.

"That's it?"

"Best I could do given the short notice. Damned privateers have landed and taken the good ones."

"Privateers?" Jack questioned.

"Aye, a Spanish brood. Captain's name is Garcia from what I gather. He's been sailing up and down the Americas the whole of this past year. They say they's scoutin' but I don't rightly believe 'em."

"Anything to be concerned about?"

"Not if we steer clear of 'em. They're none too friendly from what I reckon."

"Privateers never are. Come to think of it, neither are the Spanish." Jack rubbed the black floral ring on his finger. It brought back the memory of a Spanish widow he once encountered. She was none too happy the next morning. "I wonder what they're up to."

"I could tell you," a small voice called.

Jack looked behind him to see the same little urchin boy standing there.

"The Neptunus. It's the one I told you about," the boy continued.

"What are you doing here?" Jack asked but was entirely ignored.

"The ship's been all along the coastlines, picking up boys as they find them."

"Press gangin'," Gibbs added.

"That's how I came to be here. He's collecting disposable workers. He's working for the Spanish crown. The other boys talked about them trying to create an invincible armada."

"It's a political feud then. Nothing to concern ourselves with," Jack said.

Gibbs inserted his own thoughts into the conversation.

"Aye, to be sure, but what business have they in Florida to fulfill such a plan? 'Tis a curious matter, says I."

"Could be anything."

"All I know is that they refer to it as Bimini," the boy added.

Jack and Gibbs looked at one another.

"Couldn't be," Gibbs dismissed.

Jack felt the chart under his jacket but refused to pull it out.

"Have they a map, lad?" the captain asked the boy.

"A map?"

"Yes, a map. A chart. A geographical reference of some sort."

"I don't know. We aren't allowed near the officers' quarters. But I've seen the book."

"Book? What book?"

"I don't know. Fontaneda," the boy said, trying hard to remember.

"Fontana?" Gibbs repeated.

"Fountain?" Jack translated.

"No. Fontaneda," the boy interrupted, " not fuentes."

"Picked up a bit on that ship, did you?"

"No. My mother taught me. The ship isn't much for instruction. But now that you mention it, I did hear fuentes more than a few times."

"Look, urchin," Jack said, trying to be serious with the boy, "I get that you don't want to be back with the Spanish, but why are you here? What do you want?"

"I'm no thief, I told you that. I can't stay here. They'll just pick me up again, or someone else will. You have a ship, I heard you. Let me go with you."

"Look, kid. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. You don't want to be put to work on a pirate ship, well you're looking in exactly the wrong place, savvy?"

"I'm not afraid of pirates," the boy said.

Jack and Gibbs laughed.

"It's true. I'm not. And you don't have to take me all the way either. I just need to get a little closer to New Orleans."

"New Orleans? That's miles away west. We ain't goin' west."

"Then maybe you can help me find someone who is."

"Son, even if I knew someone who was going in that general direction-"

"I do!" the boy exclaimed. "If you're a pirate as you say you are you should know of a ship, the Black Pearl."

Gibbs and Jack looked at one another once more.

The boy continued, "It's due to return to New Orleans."

"It's due? What makes you so certain the Pearl will be anywhere near the place?" Jack interrogated.

"The ship always comes."

"I think you've got your stories confused, lad," Jack said.

"I know what I'm saying. You don't have to believe me. But I need to find the captain."

Gibbs let out a small chuckle and said, "You be in luck then. Jack, here, is –"

Jack silenced his friend.

"- Is acquainted with the captain," Jack finished.

"You know Captain Barbossa?" the boy asked.

"I don't know why a boy such as you would be looking for the likes of him. If you know stories of the Black Pearl then you must know –"

"- That it's crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out," the boy recited impatiently. "Yes, I know the stories."

"Why would Barbossa go to New Orleans?"

"It's personal," the boy said.

Gibbs was perplexed and his face was clear evidence of it. Jack was not so confused, but he was hesitant to remark upon it further. It had been too long. A distant memory.

"Crestcastle?" Jack asked knowingly.

"As I said, Sir, it's personal."

Jack turned to Gibbs as if to block out the boy and have a private conversation.

"What be in your head, Jack?" Gibbs asked.

"I need that ship. If the boy is telling the truth then that means that Barbossa would disembark."

"And take the Pearl back," Gibbs said, nodding.

"Urchin," Jack called, "you sure about his destination?"

"He always comes. I need to meet him when he does."

"Alright then," Jack said, "Mr. Gibbs, where's that boat? We're changing course."