Chapter 6 - Diversions and excursions
"Eee not be comin I tell you. Captain Jack be dead but Barbossa ain't goin' to admit it is ee? Not when it means the chart he promised us be lost. He'll keep us sittin' here till the last trump be sounded, or until the Navy catches us." Pintel was more truculent than usual.
"Can't be sure of that." Raggetti said with a shake of his shaggy head. "Captain Jack he takes his time he does."
He tapped Pintel's chest as it swelled with an indignant breath,
"Look ow long he waited to get the Pearl back. But he came didn't he?"
"Aye he came, but are ya sayin' that you be happy to go on lurking here for ten year?"
Raggetti shook his head,
"Not sayin' anything of the sort. 'Ceptin that Captain Jack might still come, just not immediately."
Pintel seemed like he would burst and his voice was hoarse with annoyance,
"And I says he be dead! We found his boat smashed to smithereens didn't we? and now there be neither sight nor sound of him. What more proof be needed?" he looked around at the small group huddled around the water barrel.
Raggetti shook his head again,
"Earlier you says that he wasn't dead, and anyways I says that you're bein' previous. 'Tis not a for'night since we left him in Tortuga, could take him a while yet to find his way here."
"And I say's why?" Pintel's voice rose threateningly.
"Because he's going to have to inveigle whoever it was that picked him up to come here that's why. Captain Jack now he's good an inveigling but he's learned to be careful like, he's not going to be a'tellin whoever about this here fountain is he?"
"Maybe he will, he needs a ship so maybe he will tell them, just like Barbossa told us." Pintel sounded elaborately patient.
"Not Captain Jack" Raggetti disagreed, "he'll come up with a more tricky way." He nodded at the others solemnly, "mark my words Captain Jack will get whoever they are here without telling them."
"Unless he's dead "
That was the thinner of the mad pair and he stiffened at Raggetti's glowering look,
"Could be dead is all I'm saying," he said quickly, "I mean we don't know who rescued him," he took a half step back as Pintel rounded on him, " if someone did…. rescue him. I mean it could have been the navy, not even Captain Jack could talk his way around them, not if they know who he is."
"That be true." Marty joined in, "navy might take him back to Port Royal and hang him. No one left there to save him any more. Not with Will and Miss Elizabeth gone."
The small huddle of men exchanged worried looks before the darker of the pair looked warily at Marty,
"Maybe we should ask Captain Barbossa? After all he wants that chart pretty bad, he's not going to be very pleased if the navy gets a hold of it is he?"
They all thought about that for a moment, then Raggetti shook his head,
"Navy men not interested in old maps, 'tis making new ones that concerns them."
"Aye," Marty nodded, "but that doesn't help us, even if they don't use it, 'cos nor can we if they have it."
"That be true," Pintel looked towards the sea with narrowed eyes. "Even if they don't hang Captain Jack the chart still be lost to us if the Navy get it. Seems to me we need to be sure that they don't get it, and we ain't doing that sitting here!"
"What be you proposing then?" Marty asked.
"That we tell Barbossa, say we want to find out if the navy caught Captain Jack."
The daft pair looked at each other in obvious concern
"And how would we be doing that?" the darker one asked.
"We go where someone is likely to have heard." Pintel said slowly,
Raggetti nodded,
"Only one place likely. Tortuga. All sorts there, bound to be someone been lurking around the navy for one reason or another."
He looked towards the cabin and grinned,
"Whose goin' to ask him then?"
***
Dusk was turning to night as the Chaser slipped quietly into the bay, dropped anchor and furled sail.
They had been careful to avoid the main approaches to Tortuga, slipping slowly around the far side of the island; even so Elanor had not really believed that they would manage to go unseen until Ariadne confirmed their arrival at the planned anchor point. She didn't dare risk the forward lights for this side of the island was in total darkness and a light out to sea was unlikely to go unnoticed. Between them and the beach the sea was shadowed, the wave caps only infrequently illuminated by a moon that was playing a hide and seek with the growing cloud; that and the rising wind suggested that this calm would not hold for much longer.
"Storm's on the way Jack, are you sure that you want to go ahead with this?"
"I'm sure. Sooner Gibbs can set about getting us the needful the sooner we can be on our way to the fountain."
Jack was turned away from her, checking the coil of rope before putting it into the long boat, while he was willing to climb up the cliffs he couldn't be sure that Gibbs would be as willing to climb down them. She smiled at his back,
"Immortality calling loud is it Jack?"
"Aye has been for a while." He paused for a moment staring down at the boat, "seems whenever I get near to it William has been in the way."
She thought the set of his shoulders changed and assumed that he was smiling that more cynical smile of his,
"This time though he will be otherwise occupied, so no worries there."
"You hope."
He looked up at that and half turned towards her, his dark eyes were wide with an expression that she couldn't read in the dim light,
"We both hope that Elanor, believe me, your origins won't change your fate if the Dutchman comes a callin'. No knowin' what eternity she would transport you too either."
She felt a shiver run down her back,
"I suppose not. Eternity alone doesn't sound much of an option."
A shadow passed across his face before he turned back to the coil of rope,
"The farm that Gibbs repairs to when his pockets are to let is barely a quarter mile inland, you can see the gate from the edge of the cliff. By the time I get there the household will be bedding down for the night, but if I know Gibbs he'll take one last look at the sea before sleep, and that's when I plan on approaching him. With a little luck, and a kindly sea, he should be back snoring beside his Polly well before dawn."
"Assuming that he is here?"
"He'll be here. He won't be going back to sea yet awhile if I know my man, and he'll not go back to the port until he feels the urge to return to sea, or until he has business to take him there. A bed here is more welcoming than the sty."
He looked back towards her with a flash of that gilded smile,
"Though he'll not be hard to persuade, not if we put a shilling or two in his pocket. His Polly brews a fair ale so he says, but the chance of rum is a powerful persuader where Gibbs is concerned."
"Just as long as he stays sober long enough to get what we need." Elanor knew that she sounded dubious and hoped he would take no offence.
"He will, trust me on that. " The smile flashed again, "Though he may end up in that pig sty once he has."
He straightened up and settled his coat to sit more easily on his shoulders, the linen of his shirt pale in the moonlight. She thought that he still looked weary, but they both knew that he must be the one to do this. He looked at the boat and then back towards her, tilting his head and staring at her down the sharp, straight ridge of his nose.
"So how do we get this boat into the water? Nothing as simple as lifting it over the side I presume?"
Elanor smiled,
"You can tip it over the side if you wish, heaven forbid that I should deny you such a simple pleasure Jack."
He gave her a narrow eyed look,
"What would you know about simple pleasures? Nothing about you is simple, nor less about this ship. As for pleasure…….. I've yet to see that you have any." He waved a beringed forefinger at her, "and you seem to have little difficulty in curtailing mine. You and your ghost between you."
Jack was almost sure that she bit her lip at that point, but her smile neither faded nor widened, instead she folded her arms and watched him carefully,
"I'm sure you can find pleasure in all sorts of unlikely places, Jack. But for the moment let us keep our minds on the matter in hand. If you wish to flex your muscle then feel free to manhandle the boat over the side, however Ariadne can launch it for us if you wish, just as you guessed."
She turned away to stare out at the shore, the cliffs were a mix of silver and shadow in the uncertain moonlight,
"But make up your mind, delay any longer and the storm might arrive before the nights work is done."
He stared at her back for a long moment wondering if she had said what he thought she had just said, or rather implied what he thought she had just implied, that there might be a moment when he could talk of pleasure with her. 'No' he thought, 'wishful thinking was all that was.' He'd been without company for too long if he thought that she might even consider coming down from whatever rarefied realm it was that she occupied. Still…….he could but hope. Sooner or later she would get tired of keeping him at arms length wouldn't she? Then….. But she was right, such thoughts were not for now, this was a moment for other matters.
"Aye it's time I moved. Let your ghost do her magic then."
She didn't reply to him but spoke to the sky,
"Ariadne, launch the forward longboat."
Jack watched in awe as the ropes securing the longboat moved, the cradle rising above the level of the deck before swinging over the rail and lowering the boat to the sea. The cradle remained extended over the ocean for a moment then swung silently back into position on the deck.
He drew a deep breath and crossed to the rail, suddenly realising that this would be the first time he had left the ship since she had collided with him. Struck by a sudden doubt he found himself wondering if she would watch him sail towards the shore then up anchor and leave him, then came another uncomfortable moment as he wondered why that suddenly seemed to matter, for the chart was in his pocket and the compass was on his belt and she would be leaving him with the long boat. Was this her way of abandoning him? Her route to making good the damage she had done and leaving him to find his way as he had intended when he first left Tortuga? Why had the word abandon even entered his mind, for she owed him nothing? No more than he owed her. Was it just the knowledge of the treasure in her vault, his treasure, which made him so unwilling to risk her sailing away to the horizon as the Pearl had done? Jack swore silently at himself, what ailed him? Had her little beasties stolen his wits along with his secrets? Gibbs was on shore and if she disappeared what could it matter? The rope of pearls in his pocket, a bait to draw Gibbs out to this strange ship, would be enough to provide all that he needed for some time to come.
Yet the idea of her leaving him behind was in some way unpalatable, 'but then why shouldn't it be when this ship of hers offers so many advantages' he chided himself. But he knew it was more than that, cold and harsh though she could appear he had thought that he had found some measure of an accord with her, and there had been a companionable feeling to their dealings these last few days, even when the looks were sharp and the words were barbed. He had to admit he found some amusement in courting those sharp and barbed exchanges. Never let it be said that Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't wheedle his way around a woman, any woman. No she would not leave him.
"Jack?" she was looking at him again, "Something you've forgotten?"
"What!" he snapped back from his own thoughts, "No! Just wondering about the weather, looks like it might be rough so I hope this boat of yours is up to it."
"It is. The wood might look flimsy to you but it's stronger then it looks. Trust me on that."
Jack just shrugged and avoided the obvious retort, then he crossed to the rail reassuring himself that he had the chart and compass as he went. Being left behind would be bad, but being left behind without those would be far worse.
Her voice came from above him as he descended the ladder that had been lowered over the side,
"Take care Jack. I'd rather not have to mount a rescue mission."
He shot her a frowning look and she smiled briefly, watching as he clambered into the boat and picked up the oars. As he pulled away towards the shore her voice drifted back to him on the rising wind,
"Take care on those cliffs. Come back in one piece."
***
The pull to the shore was harder than he had expected and by the time he was hauling the boat up on to the sand Jack was hot and tired. Some part of his mind knew that he ached too, but he wasn't listening to that bit.
The warmth didn't last long even with his coat, for the wind was blowing strongly off the sea and it had an unusually chill edge to it given that it was still early in the evening. For a moment he shivered and wondered what Tia had in store for them. Above him the clouds had multiplied, becoming heavy bellied and fat, and the periods of moonlight were shortening with worrying rapidity; climbing these cliffs in moonlight was enough of a challenge, the idea of doing it in shadow was an uncomfortable thought. Still it had to be done, all he could do was hope that the rain held off. Yet he took a moment to stare back at the ship he had left, pushing away the memory of leaving another ship as he did so. The Dawn Chaser was white and lovely against the increasingly stormy sky, her decks glowing like a swathed pearl in the little light that there was. A white pearl, just as his was black. He would get his Pearl back, he had no doubt of it, but maybe he wouldn't just sail away and leave this elegant lady to her fate. Would not a black pearl and white one nestle easily and cosily together? Was it not only fitting that they should? Two exceptional ships, with their equally exceptional captains, soon to be immortal captains, what legends could they create together?
The thought raised his spirits as well as a swig of rum, driving away the melancholy that had dogged him all day. It put the fire back into his blood and sent a new surge of energy to his weary arms; with renewed determination he shrugged off his coat, pushed the chart into his sash, pulled the coil of rope from the boat and then strode up the narrow strip of beach. The wind was blowing the sand in whirling clouds and he narrowed his eyes against the blast, feeling the hard grains scrape his arms through his shirtsleeves as it whipped the linen and set it fluttering like a flag. It was not the night he would have chosen for this venture but the storm heading their way might not be alone, a whole string of them might be on the their way, was on their way if Elanor's ghost was to be believed, and he had no desire to delay as long as their passing might take.
He stood at the base of the cliff and stared upwards, the wall of rock looked higher and smoother than he recalled it and the distance to the first grassy outcrops and the network of small channels cut by the feet of goats, and the occasional adventurous sheep, looked to be further away than he was sure they had been last time he did this. But then last time he did this he hadn't just come back from the dead, fought a war or been trampled over by a ship from the future, to say nothing of being eaten alive by little animals, it was bound to make a difference. However that changed not a jot, the cliffs stood between him and Gibbs, and he needed Gibbs so the cliffs had to be climbed and that was the end of the matter.
Settling his sword more comfortably on his hip he squinted up at the wall of rock, his eyes narrowed as he studied what lay before him; a hand hold here and a foothold there he began to plan his route up the cliff. He pushed away his sudden doubt, when he had told her that he had climbed these cliffs it hasn't been the full truth of it, for though he had climbed then it had ever been up, only ever down, a fact that he had been careful not to mention; now he wondered if that had been entirely wise.
But it was too late now, he had said he would climb them and he would, could be no harder than climbing the Interceptor now could it? He was Jack Sparrow, of course he could do it, and anyway he thought he would rather die in the attempt than go back and tell the clever eyed Captain Cavendish that he had failed. The again maybe he would not, he didn't think that the locker could claim him if he died on land but he wasn't sure about that. So with gritted teeth he ignored the sand blast and the wind bite and swallowed hard, trying not to thunk about what he wouldn't give for a slug or two of rum. Not that that mattered either for he had none. 'Come on man' he told himself, 'can be no harder than launching yourself from Beckett's ship by canon.' With that spirit rousing comment he stretched to the first handhold, settled his boot onto the first foothold, and began to climb.
***
As the ground fell further away the wind grew stronger, pulling at his waistcoat and sash with a strength that nearly cost him his grip on more than one occasion. His hands were soon scraped and chilled and the times that he had to stop to allow the blood to find his fingertips again became more frequent. Hanging there between sand and sky brought back too many unpleasant memories and though he cursed and swore they would not let him be; he reminded himself many times that he was Jack Sparrow and he'd done more impossible things than climb a cliff, yet even so it took raw determination to push him upwards. Above him the flat grassy outcrops that promised some rest called invitingly to him, but they seemed no closer than they had when he stood below. More than one time he slipped, cramped fingers mistaking his hold or boot soles betrayed by wind and water weakened rock. Each cascade of falling stone reminded him that every step made retreat less possible and ascent so much the shorter. So he kept climbing, his hair whipped against the cliff like a flag and his shirt sleeves flapping like a landed fish's tail, the crack of the linen drowned put by the increasing roar of the wind.
Time seemed to stop with each movement taking an eternity and yet only a second. His ears were cold, his eyes were sore and his back ached from trying to lean into the cliff while the heat in his shoulders spoke only too loudly of jolt and jar as much as the weight of his body. Jack kept his eyes on the first of those grassy slopes and slowly he scrambled his way upwards.
***
On the shore line Calypso watched him with frowning brow and slitted eyes.
"waat be him about now?" she asked herself, "drat the man for this be foolishness and I can do naught to help him, except…"
The wind that had been blowing off the sea eased suddenly. She watched as he inched his way up the crumbling rock losing his footing her and scrabbling as a rock gave way beneath his hand there.
"There be times witty Jack when that pigheaded courage of yourn tests a lady's best intentions." She muttered and winced as a particularly sudden loss of grip set him swinging one handed, sending a cascade of shattered rock tumbling to the sand.
Calypso turned towards the sea and the pale outline of the strange ship, its deck appearing around her as she thought of it,
"What be ya about ta let him take this foolish course?" she muttered to the woman standing at the rail, "Do ya not know what drives him lady?"
She stepped closer to the silent woman, seeing the strange little boat now knocking against the larger vessels side, taking in the weapons and the other unfamiliar objects lying on that strangely padded seat. She stared into the beautiful face turned towards the shore and smiled at the sight of the narrowed eyes and the frown between the fine-drawn brows,
"Ha! Ya let him run but still ya hold the rope. Wiser ya maybe than I had thought, The Lady may indeed have chosen ya well. But ya rope may not be enough to save him if he falls, though I expect that ya know that."
Calypso turned to stare back to the shore reaching out a hand to place it on the one gripped tight against the rail,
"The Lady has a purpose for ya me tink, that be the case she not let him fall, but I wilt do what I can ta keep him safe. Witty Jack be hard work on occasion but he deserve a better fate tan to be food for the gulls on a little strip o' land."
With that she stepped back on to the shoreline, leaving Elanor to wonder why her one hand was suddenly wet.
***
Jack was now half way up the cliff and his slowing movements showed her the weariness he was no doubt denying to himself. As Calypso watched he missed his footing, the shape of his shadow changing suddenly as he dropped to hang full length, anchored only to the cliff side by two narrow handholds. She cursed and the waves reared, the tide surging with unnatural vigour towards the beach. The wall of water swept passed her and up to the base of the cliff, and she cursed again for it might not be deep enough to save him if he fell, not in time. Turning her eyes upwards and back to the swinging figure she stilled the wind yet further, for any movement might pluck him from the cliff and hurl him down before the sea could provide a sufficient pillow. Above her Jack's scrabbling boots dislodged a fall of scree and then a sudden rain of pebble as a deep slice of weakened rock fell away leaving a crevasse in the cliff face more than a foot deep and three feet long. She smiled as Jack's boots found the security of the cleft and he slowly eased the strain from his over stretched shoulders.
Overhead the moon broke through heavy cloud shedding a pall of silver over the cliff, showing each ridge and outcrop in stark relief. On the deepening waters, covering the shore where, by the time of tide, sand should still show, the silver light glinted on the Lady's gemstone smile.
Calypso smiled and strolled across the lapping waves to stand beside her.
***
Jack reached the top of the cliff with labouring chest, aching hands, scratched boots and the determination never to do this again as long as he lived. Or at least to make sure that next time he was well and truly drunk before he started. Once or twice he had thought he would fall and break his back on the sand below, but on both occasions he had won through. Though the lack of rum must have done something to his eyesight for he was sure that as he rested on the first rocky outcrop he had looked down to see the sea washing around the base of the cliff, which was impossible given that the base of the cliff was well above the tide line. Rolling over he peered down the wall of rock he had just scaled, sure enough there was a strip of sand between the incoming tide and the cliff so his eyes must have been playing tricks. His need for rum must be greater than he thought; he could only hope that Gibbs would know where to set his hand on some.
Gibbs! He had no time to waste not if they were to make the tide back to the Chaser and get Gibbs back on the shore before dawn. With a moan he rolled over and clambered to his feet, then he straightened his clothing a little and resettled his sword before setting off across the short coarse grass towards the lane and the gate he knew he'd find.
The clouds had broken during his clamber up the cliff but now they loomed heavy and swollen again, and as he strode across the lane the first heavy drops were spattering in the dust. Jack swore to himself hoping that the weather would not prevent Gibbs from venturing for his last look at the sea of the day, the house was in front of him and he could see the glow of a candle in the lower casement so they were not yet abed.
He turned away from the path and pushed himself into the shadow of the boundary hedge, he had met Gibbs Pol once before and she was a fine woman, but clear eyed like Elanor and with a mind to be curious about his facinatin' self. Her daughter had given him the eye too, young though the wench had been then, and he had ho mind to find himself in that kind of hot water at the moment.
Hot water! The vision of the Chasers waterfall was suddenly before his eyes and he was taken with a most surprising urge to stand under it as soon as he could. His shirt had plastered to his back in the effort of climbing and had cooled to sit clammy against his shoulders, his cheek was scraped like his knuckles and his neck ached from looking up, comfortable he was not. Yet he would have to row to the ship and back before the sun rose. He hoped Gibbs would not be too long in coming.