Chapter 11 - Unexpected sightings

At the outskirts of the town Ben halted the cart and the pirate, as he thought of him, hopped out and with a grin and a nod disappeared into the shadows in a patch of scrub. Ben flapped the reins and drove on, hoping that this was the end of it and that their disturbing visitor would not be returning. Certainly not before Gibbs was back, for he doubted that he would be able to defend his mother and sister should the pirate decide to become unfriendly, not without the older man's help.

True he had been pleasant enough, but he was a pirate after all and who could know what might cause a change in his mood? Gibbs had always talked well of Jack Sparrow, but if the man who had just faded from view was the man in Gibbs tales then he was every bit as dangerous as those storied had hinted. Some of those same stories suggested that he was also capricious and fey, someone whose behaviour could not be judged or guaranteed by a normal man's. How could any of them feel safe with him around when even Gibbs spoke of his strangeness? No it was better that he didn't return. With a muttered prayer that this should be the case Ben forgot about the pirate and returned the real business of life.

Jack himself was blithely unaware of the dark thoughts revolving in his young driver's head, being more interesting in how quickly he could find news of Mr Gibbs, and how they were going to get out of town and back to Polly's when he did find him. He did not find the idea of a four hour walk, for such it was likely to be, at all attractive, certainly not when Elanor might be waiting for him in the bay. Though a look at the dark clouds building on the horizon made it yet more likely that she would not make their meeting as planned.

With a sigh he pushed the thought aside, that issue could wait until more pressing business had been attended to, like how he was going to find out about Gibbs without attracting over much attention to himself. The free port was one place where he rarely gave any thought to being seen or recognised and far too many people here would know him for current comfort, even from a distance.

Which was why he had taken the sack from the cart.

Crouching behind the bushes he stripped off his coat and hat and folded them into the sack, his waistcoat followed, then one of his belts, his baldric and sword. Shaking the sack to settle its contents, he tore a strip from the frayed top edge and bound his hair back, retying his scarf so that it covered his whole head, before unwinding his sash and fastening it around the neck of the sack. Standing up he pushed his pistol into his belt, along with the dagger from his boot, and slung the sack over his shoulder before stepping back onto the road. As long as no one wanted to see what it was he was carrying he should pass unseen and without difficulty.

This part of the town was as respectable as anything could be on this island. Widely spaced the large houses of merchants had gardens and compounds bounded by low hedges, Jack passed each one quickly, but not too quickly, keeping his head down and his sense alert, for this was unfamiliar territory. The occasional comely maidservant beating rugs on a hedge or bringing in the laundry drew his eye from the road, and even without his usual accruements he was rewarded by the occasional appraising look and several saucy smiles. He contented himself with matching smile for smile and moving on for the sun was falling and lingering here was not an idea to be entertained, however fair the face, not if he was to find out what he wanted and be on his way back to the cove before morning.

It was not long before the larger house gave way to the smaller homes of shopkeepers and artisans and the gardens and pretty maidservants disappeared to be replaced by dour faced men and weary looking wives. These, in turn, were soon replaced by small shops and workshops, and then by the hovels and flop houses that catered for the more respectable of the free town's poor. Here the buildings were flimsy and malformed, not yet the rotten and grimy doss houses or slatternly huts of the poorest parts of the port but already leaning together across narrow pavements and crowding around malodorous courtyards, the mouths of the alleys that ran down to the quay just visible in the deepening shadows.

As the road crossed another leading up from the quay Jack sighted the first of the many taverns that catered to the daily needs of the small traders and shop owners. For a moment he paused then he set down the sack, and, with a sigh, wiped a dirty hand across his eyes. The air was cloying and slow, already heavy with the rain that was on its way. His shirt was damp, clinging around his armpits and back and chafing at his neck; sweat slicked his skin and ran down his shoulders and chest, and worse still his throat was so dry it felt to be cracking. He looked longingly at the tavern doorway, shadowed and cool looking in the late afternoon heat, more than anything he wanted a drink. But the red ball of the sun was already low on the roof tops and he knew that daylight would soon be gone, if he was to make his target before lock up then he needed to keep moving. With one last look at the beckoning tavern sign he hoisted the sack once more and stepped off the road into the alley that ran behind the inn.

***

Elanor had been on deck watching the clouds building when Ariadne called to her,
"There is another ship on the scanner. On its current course it will pass close to the headland."
"Show me."
The helm display lit and she studied the image carefully and with a sudden feeling of inevitability,
"It looks to be heading out to sea, but surely the signs of bad weather will be obvious enough now?" she commented after a moment.
"Yes, and its course has changed slightly in the last half hour, it was heading to deep water but now it seems to be hugging shallower seas, presumably to stay close to sanctuary should the weather become a danger."
"Where has it come from?"
"That is not certain, but backwards projections suggest that the port at Tortuga is a strong possibility."
"What type of ship?"
"Unknown, smaller than the one currently anchored in the bay where we left Captain Sparrow, but larger than most of the other ships within range."
"Navy?"
"Again unknown. It appears to be armed, probably with cannon, but has a crew of only fifteen or so."
"So likely not Navy. Pirate?"
"Again that is possible, or it might be a merchantman."
"Will it see us?"
"Possibly, it is equally possible that it will change course and decide to anchor here to see out the weather."

Elanor sighed,
"I am beginning to feel persecuted Ariadne. How Jack lives like this, ducking and diving all the time escapes me!"
"It may well be our fate for some time to come." Ariadne stated calmly,
"So get used to it, I know, there's no need to remind me."
"I did not remind you."
"Not in so many words, but the inference was there; maybe you are spending too much time observing Jack."
"You wish me to stop observing him?"
"Oh no, go on as before." Elanor grinned at the sky; "I know that he finds it a most irritating check upon some of his activities, which is no doubt good for his soul."
"I would not wish to be intrusive if that is not your intention."
"But it is my intention Ariadne, Jack unchecked could get... inconvenient, and I wouldn't want to have to lock him up again. Better that he feels......inhibited."
"Captain Sparrow does not appear to be at all inhibited."
"No, I know. He looks to be all 'what you see is what you get', but you and I know better don't we?"
"We certainly have cause to suspect that he is not quite so much of an open book as he would wish to appear, however the data available is far short of certainty."

Elanor rubbed her eyes,
"If we had a full observational history of the man I still expect we would not have enough data for certainty on that count. But he is not our problem for the moment, take us out and round to the next bay, unless you have reason to suspect they are going to follow us there."
"There is no reason that they should."
"True, but what's that got to say to anything? There is no reason we should be here at all, but we are. No reason that I should believe that anything that Jack bloody Sparrow has told me ahas even nodding acquaintance with the truth, but for some reason I do, and so we are playing hide and seek in the middle of the Caribbean waiting for him to climb down the cliffs. All bets on probability are off Ariadne, nothing makes sense any longer. But as you have so cogently pointed out going with the flow is all that is left to us."
She looked up and towards the horizon suddenly concerned but with a surge of hope,
"Unless this storm is a sign that the portal is about to open again?"
"There is no reason to believe that is the case, this appears to be a normal weather event with no associated abnormalities."
"Oh. But as you said earlier we don't know what they would look like."
"That is the case, therefore chasing them, or waiting for them would seem to be futile."
Elanor sighed,
"I know. So take us round to the next bay."
"Very well."

The Chaser was under way when Ariadne spoke to her again,
"The ship has changed course, it is now projected to be heading for this position."
"Will we be clear in time?"
"We should be, but it is moving much more quickly than would be predicted from earlier observations. It has the wind full astern and has all canvas optimally deployed but even so its speed is significantly greater than previous vessels tracked in similar circumstances."
"What is different about it then?"
"There is no information, however we need to move quickly if we are to be sure to avoid them."
"Very well, do we have enough power if we need it?"
"Yes, all cells are fully charged."
"Then put the screws online, you have the comm. Ariadne, use them if you need to but get us clear before we are sighted."

***

Cock alley was not an alley in the usual Tortuga sense, in that it was wider than a man's shoulders and not in constant shadow; nor did walls or the backs of dilapidated huts border it. Though once it had been no different to the maze of alleys around the quay and dock areas its importance to many of the town's residents, having the cockpit at one end and the livestock market at the other, had caused it to be widened at the height of the buccaneer days. Even the poorest of the town's occupants did not wish to live just a flimsy wall from the drunken crowds making their way somewhere else after a night of blood and betting. Now it was half way to respectability, a small street in which rag dealers, lodging houses and a better class brothel or two brushed shoulders with the cheaper chandlers, candle makers and cook shops as they struggled to climb the rickety ladder to prosperity.

Jack had rarely done business here, he preferred to promise to pay more when refitting the Pearl, even if he would then try and avoid payment; and the ladies of his acquaintance would talk disparagingly about the women who worked in these faded rooms. But he had, on occasion, had call to use the chandler that Polly had spoken of.

The shop was at the top of the end of the alley, close to a main thoroughfare and was run by a weasley faced man with a lisp if he recalled correctly, one who had a knack of finding things the more respectable members of his trade would not supply. Though it was unclear why Gibbs would have come here for something as ordinary as grapples; one reason why Jack was being cautious, that and the fact that he wasn't completely sure that he didn't owe the lisping gent money.

He reached the shop just as the brothels opened their doors and the occupants of the lodging houses began to trickle back from their day of not so gainful employment, however to his annoyance the chandlers remained open for trade. Jack cursed quietly and looked around for a suitable vantage point, then cursed again as he realised his choice was between a brothel, where a skinny Madame and her protectors were already taking up residence on the door, and a cook shop whose pastries had a decidedly bilious look. Jack had spent much of his adult life at sea and had eaten more than one meal that would have sent a softer stomach to its maker, but as he eyed the yellow pies, the grey gravy leaking from their seams in a cold slurry that looked as if it had spent time in the bilges, he wondered if he would survive this encounter. Even so he had no choice and he entered the shop, slapped down a penny and took the sad excuse for a meal he was handed without a shudder. His shudderless state was only sustained by willpower as he took his first, and he hoped his only, bite. With a hurried gulp he handed over another half penny for a pot of watery ale with a sour smell that boded ill for its taste.

His presence accounted for he positioned himself at the door, sipping from the ale while apparently watching the world go by.

The ale pot was somehow empty and the pie crumbled in the dust of the road before the chandler came out to close and fasten the shutters. Pausing only to slap the tankard back on the makeshift counter he hurried out and across the street.

***

They were safe around the headland when the other ship slipped into the bay. The storm was still some way off but Ariadne reported that the newcomer had dropped anchor and furled canvas and obviously intended to stay where she was for some time. Not for the first time Elanor cursed the lack of sat comms, for in this time and place she would be unable to see the other ship unless she physically went and looked, and she found that she was most anxious to see it. Even at this distance Ariadne could not tell her why this one had come upon them so quickly and, in a world that must be treated as hostile, that must be cause for concern. For an hour or more she alternated pacing the deck with studying the data banks and the scans. In end none of it satisfied her.

"I'm going to take a look."
"That would not be wise."
"Why not? They are not likely to see us. Unless they carry scanners too and that seems somewhat unlikely." A sudden thought hit her, "unless they are another one like us, another interloper in time or place they don't belong. Which is a most disturbing thought you must admit."
Ariadne sounded thoughtful,
"It is, the possibility had occurred to me but I had discounted it on the basis of the scan. However it is also possible I have not given sufficient weight to the hypothesis that it is from another variant of this time line, if that were to be the case then it might not be transparent to our scans."
"But it will be to human eyes."
"Indeed. But you need to take great care, if you were to be trapped the only way that I could help you would be to destroy that ship with all the consequences that might follow."
"I have no intention of being trapped, for which I read you really mean caught. I'll stay in touch, if they show any signs of moving, or even launching a boat, then let me know, and fast."
"Very well, but I do advise extreme caution." Araidne paused for a moment, then said dispassionately. "I would draw your attention to the fact that air tanks are fully primed."
Elanor nodded slowly,
"Yes that would be sensible I suppose, we saw Jack's reaction to it, if they saw me they would just think me some strange sort of fish." She sent a sardonic smile towards the helm, "sneaky, Ariadne, maybe you have spent too much time observing Captain Sparrow, he seems to be rubbing off on you."

'Though perhaps I should be more concerned with him rubbing off on me', she thought a few minutes later as she strapped on her weight belt, 'what the hell am I doing?'

***

"I be lookin' for a man called Gibbs."

The weasly faced man squinted at him over his shoulder but went on putting up the shutters."
"And why d'ye reckon I'd know of any such man."
"Was told ya do an' that he was seen here a few days ago."
"Was you? And who said that?"
Jack shrugged and put on his best drunken fool drawl,
"Dunno 'is name, geezer what passed thro' on his way up country to visit his ol mum so he said. Got chattin' over a pot or two we did, a day or so back, an I tol him I was done with slavin' for the ole wom'n and wanted to seek me fortune at sea."
The weasly man grunted,
"Not much fortune to be had there these days, if the stories be true."
Jack wondered what the stories he mentioned were but kept his mind on his story; he let an eager note slide into his voice,
"More than there be scrabblin in the dirt and flies I'll be bound, more than breakin me back when all I've got to show for it is calluses and the bruises from another kickin'."
That brought another grunt,
"Sea's not an easy place to live so they tell me. Captains be hard task masters and they carry no slackers."
"Can't be no harder than labouring on a hand to mouth farmstead for a vicious ol' biddy and her bully boy sons."

The man slid the last catch into place and turned to give him a hard land appraising look. Jack had expected no less and had already taken care not to seem a threat, shrinking in on himself and letting his head droop, his eyes lowered. After a moments stare the chandler seemed satisfied with what he saw.
"Mebbe not, couldn't say. But why ye be looking for this man Gibbs?"
Jack shrugged a little, still keeping his eyes on the floor,
"This geezer he tol me that this here Gibbs knew the all captains passin' through the port see, said he'd likely know of those takin' on crew. Did as much for hisself once."
"Ever sailed afor'?" the man did indeed lisp.
Jack shrugged again, mouth drooping but smiling in his minds eye, the story rolling out before him,
"When I was a lad, gave it up for a lass but she left me for a blacksmith's apprentice takin' the chile and everything with her."
He heard the man grunt again. 'Careful' he warned himself, 'this one's not for romance, stick to the every day,' he shrugged,
"said that I were drunk too often and would amount to nothin' and that she could get a better life elsewhere."
He felt the man's eyes on him and stayed quiet letting his shoulders slump as if in disappointment and defeat.

The chandler grunted again, he'd heard the tale before from many a would be sailor,
"Well, it's your look out if you think the sea offers a better life, sailors are no less free with their boots I'm thinkin', and the sea tells no tales if you fail to make the grade."
"Know that, but I recon' I'll not make old bones where I am, might as well make a push to get away while I've no broken ones to hold me back."
The man was silent for a little while longer then he shrugged and turned away,
"The man Gibbs might be able to find you a berth, tis true enough, though no sayin on what type of ship, but if ye be that determined to get away ye'll not care I'll be thinkin'."
"No sir." Jack let eagerness and gratitude seep into his voice.
The man turned and closed the shop door pulling a lock from his pocket, Jack heard a key grate,
"This Gibbs, he was here a day or so ago. Last I saw of him he was headin' down towards the quay, he didn't mention where he was goin' but there had been talk of a ship in, an unexpected ship, and it may be he was planning on meetin that."
"A ship that might take me sir?"
"Couldn't say, but as I say that'll not be botherin ye."
"No, a chance to get away is all I'm looking for."
"Then you'd best find Gibbs, I'd try the rope maker at the fish sheds, can't tell ye moren that."
With that he turned and walked away.

Jack watched him go with a faint smile, then, careful to keep his weary and dejected posture, he shouldered the sack and headed down towards the mud flats.

***

Elanor surfaced in a small cave to the side of the bay they had just quit. Here the water was deep but the swell was slight, the fury of the waves dissipated on the fingers of rock stretching out into the bay. Slowly she paddled her way around to the lip of the cave being careful to stay in the lee of the wet, weed covered black rocks, there was no sense in risking being seen if she didn't have to. Finally she reached her objective, a small overhang that gave her sight of the bay without risk of being seen.

The ship that had displaced them was clear to see, sitting at anchor with sails furled. The sight of it, dark and elegant against a thunderous sky, stirred something evasive in her memory and she stared for several minutes before she understood why it seemed familiar.
"Well, well," she said to herself, "Jack's Pearl unless I'm very much mistaken. Now what are you doing here? Co-incidence or not? Probably not."
She watched for a moment longer then decided, she levelled her camera and committed the ship to Ariadne's memory. Though there was no one to hear her she spoke softly,
"Ariadne, I'm coming back, file the picture with the scans then locate every mention of the Black Pearl from the voice log and compare them. I'm almost certain this is Jack's missing ship but some confirmation wouldn't go amiss, given that he's been less forthcoming about her peculiarities if it is she. It looks to be quiet, no sign of life that I can make out at all from this distance but I don't think I'll risk going closer. Keep an eye on it until I'm back with you, and let me know immediately if anything changes."
"Very well, but it would be advisable to return quickly, the storm is almost here."
'Well at least that should keep their heads down', she consoled herself as she began the swim back to safety.

***

Jack stood in the shadows of fish wharfe and looked across the inlet towards the smoke sheds. Even at this distance the smell of rotting fish offal was on the air and the gulls were still wheeling overhead on the look for scraps not washed out on the tide. The mud flats were not a proper place for a pirate, being the resting places of the older fishing ships and the small boats of traders, and Jack had rarely found himself there. Come to think of it he had only ever been here when looking for Gibbs, for there was a sty or two on the landward side that had occasionally provided the man with a bed when the tavern sties were otherwise occupied. If Gibbs had truly gone to ground then it was likely that it would be here, whatever the reason for it.

But this was a tight knit community, an enclave within the free port where even pirates would tread carefully if they didn't want to be gutted like the fish. Jack knew he would have to be alert whatever guise he adopted for they would know he was not one of their own. 'Hmm,' he thought, 'best stay out of sight as long as possible.' He scanned the scene for the least populated route, wrinkling his nose as he realised it lay past the midden, then hefted the sack and slipped into deeper shade.

Jack was approaching the bridge that crossed the inlet when he caught the sound of soft voices off to his side, voices that sounded as if they didn't want to be heard. Which was good enough reason to want to hear in Jack's book, for anyone around here this time in the evening might well have knowledge of Gibbs. He crouched down in the shadow of a patch of stunted mangrove trees, his hand straying down to his boot as if easing some unwelcome presence there. The voices stayed low and he could not make out the words, though one voice might just have been Gibb's. After a moment or two more the voices faded and the faint sounds of boots on sand replaced them as the whisperers moved away; Jack cursed as he realised one of them was heading his way. He cast a quick look around him before vaulting up into the branches just above his head, pulling the sack after him, hoping the passer by would look around but not up.

Nor did he, but for a moment as he peered around the man's face was thrown into stark relief and Jack drew back into the salt crusted leaves with a frown, for it was not Gibbs and yet he knew the face from somewhere. As the man paused for a moment longer Jack watched him, searching for some other point of familiarity, but it was only as he strode away, back towards the town that Jack finally realised where he had seen him realisation deepened his frown.

When he was sure that all was safe he slid to the ground and stared after the departed man, 'and what are you doin' here?' he mused for a moment, 'Not good news for someone whatever it is,' then he reached up, pulling the sack down from the branches, and slipped over the bridge towards his goal.