Chapter 12 Encounters in the dark

Jack had never been in the smoke sheds. It was true that he rather enjoyed a smoked fish pie when one was on offer but he had never felt the need to see how the stuff of the dish was produced, being content to leave that to the cook. Now faced with the inside of one he wondered if he would feel the same way about the pie ever again.

The sheds were little more than high raftered huts, the gaps in the planking lined with leaf and rag, the timbers themselves stained dark by the smoke of years. Well a few years any way, smoke sheds tended to have a somewhat limited life in a port where rum was as common as holy water in a church. Though in this shed the hooks that hung from the rafters were empty and the ashes of the fires were cold; hot as the air inside was it had nothing to do with a fire and it looked as if it had been some time since anything at all had been smoked here. Even so the planking reeked of fish, raw and cooked, and atmosphere was a thick with the ghosts of past smoking and dusty with the remains of ash and fish scales. This last seemed to hang and shimmer in the hot air.

Jack had never taken to the tobacco pipe himself, it ruined the taste of rum in his opinion, and the feel of smoke in his lungs was unwelcome. Half a dozen paces took him across the hearth and to the far side of the hut, there he pressed against the wall opposite the door, as he pushed himself back into the shadows he hoped that he wouldn't have to wait too long.

Outside the evening was drawing in, he could hear the night insects starting up their singing in the scrub behind the mudflats and he could picture the flares and lanterns being lit. He was thirsty and hungry but there was nothing he could do to remedy it, all he could do was wait. Time passed slowly, the cloying heat drawing the water from him as once is had dried the fish; he could feel the sweat trickling down his neck and chest, even his thighs were damp and sticky, his breeches chafing him as he shifted to ease the cramps in his calves and back. He felt like he was being suffocated by a wet blanket. Outside the air had been heavy but in here it seemed almost to sleepy to leave his lungs, and he knew what that meant, the storm was nearly upon them. It was not long before the rattling of the rafters told him of the rising wind, yet it did nothing to ease the cloying heat.

Then came the first patter of rain, the disarming advance guard of the furies on their way. The far off whisper of the sea changed and he could imagine the sight of the waves as they grew in height and strength. The front edge of the storm had arrived and Jack cursed wondering if it would scupper his plans, and how long he should wait before abandoning this course. Almost as he thought it, and without warning, the door opened and the wind stirred the stifling air a little as a man entered shaking raindrops from his hat. That done to his satisfaction he crossed to the cold hearth, bending to rake the ash, tutting and muttering under his breath as he realised that they were cold.

In the darkness Jack drew his pistol from his belt and cocked it without moving forward, but he made no attempt to silence it and the click of the hammer being drawn back was loud in the quiet. The man heard, as Jack had intended that he should, and stiffened, moving his hands away from his sides as he slowly straightened up.
"Nothin' here for nobody," he said slowly, peering into the shadow, "hut's empty as ye can see and I've naught but a farthing in me pocket, and if ye wan' tat then ya only need ta say so. No need to waste ya shaat."
Jack stayed where he was, pistol levelled, guessed at, but unseen, by the man before him,
"No interest in your coin of the realm mate," he said easily, "information now, that's a different currency. That I am interested in."
"Aye, can see that it might be." The man said warily, still keeping his hands well away from his body, "not sayin' that I can help with tat either. Will if I can tha'. What be ya wantin' to know?"
"A man called Gibbs, came down here yesterday." Jack let his voice harden a little, "want to know who he saw and where he went."

The man by the hearth seemed to consider that for a moment,
"Nat sure about any Gibbs but ther' waas a man here yesterday, not a smoker, nor a fisher."
"A stranger then?" Jack prompted him.
"Yes and no."
Jack didn't bother to hide his impatience,
"'Twas one or the other man! Which was it?" he stayed in the shadows with the pistol just an outline in the gloom.
The other man looked down at the floor as if thinking,
"As I said, yes and no. Don't know him, but have seen him afore."
"Recently?"
"Na, naat for some time now I come to tink af it." The gleam of the whites of the man's eyes told Jack that he had as he looked up towards again. "Must have bin somewhere else for a while, " he nodded slowly to himself, "somewhere that addled his head I'm tinkin'."
"Why's that?" Jack tensed knowing from the very slight change in the man's voice that something important was coming,
"A'cos he kept on about up not being up but something else. Made na sense ta me. W'aat else can up be but up? As I said addled in the head where ever he'd been."

The man watched the deeper shadow on the edge of the hut as he spoke, saw the flash of white and gold and was nearly sure; even so he waited, still keeping his hands in the sight of the man with the probably loaded pistol.
"Ah, I see." The hidden man's voice took on a silky note, "Talking about up being down was he?"
Now he was sure but he did what he had been told to anyway,
"Tat might have been it, make no sense now do it? Any more than what he said about sunset."
"Being sunrise." The man in the shadows said gently.
Now he was sure and he relaxed a little, though he knew the danger wasn't entirley passed. He inclined his head in recognition,
"Captain Sparra, he said ya might come lookin', make no sense ta me but he said ya would know what it meant."

"Aye I know." Jack eased his hand and let the pistol drop a little but left it cocked, a fact the man in the centre of the hut was aware of.
"Na danger ta ya Captain Sparra, nat from me. This Gibbs he paid me ta pass his message on, said he'd have another shillin' for me next time he was in port if I did what he said without tellin' anyone."
Jack smiled again but did not move forward and he levelled the pistol.
"Price on me head's somewhat larger than a shillin' mate, and it seems that people are seekin me even here. So the pistol stays where it is. Savvy?"
The man chuckled softly,
"Aye that I do, though ya must know I'd not live long enough ta spend even a shillin' if I sold ya. If Gibbs didn't get me there are others that would." He cast a sly look across the hut, "even the Captain of the Flyin' Dutchman maybe."
Jack grunted,
"Gibbs right enough. Been telling tales has he?"
"Ay that he has, though he didn't need ta, ya right others be lookin' too, be tellin tales too."
"Are they now? Who might these others be?"
"Some sailed with the pirate fleet, some sailed with Beckett. Recently another, but ah don't know who he is."

Jack nodded slightly,
"Mebbe I do. So what did Gibbs want you to tell me?"
"That the black ship has been back, though she didn't dock. Still looking but not findin'. An' about the man askin'questions."
Jack frowned at that,
"Oh. Why?"
"He did nat say."
"What else did he say then?"
"That he was goin' to see what he could find out. There be a man he knew at the Mermaid, he was goin to meet him yesterday, afore he went to meet ya. Tol me ta tell ya if ya came looking afore he gat back."
"Anything else?"
"Na."
"Well now you've told me, so turn around and put your hands against that beam," Jack indicated a low-slung timber on the far side of the hut.
The man smiled slowly and did as he was told without protest, keeping his back turned as Jack slipped out of the door and into the darkness and the arriving storm.

***

The first storm blew for six hours.

The worst of the weather passed them by however, only the milder winds making landfall here. Yet even in the shelter of the bay the seas were running high and strong, setting the Black Pearl's decks creaking in protest as she rose and tossed with the waves, and the masts whipped and the yards groaned though the sails were furled tight. Below decks the crew played dice, told each other stories, and sang, glad that they had made harbour before the winds could tear the canvas from the yards or the waves tip them to an untimely meeting with the Dutchman. Somehow knowledge of the Dutchman's captain did not reduce the fear of it, for the image of being plucked from the sea's beyond the map by William Turner was all the clearer for their knowing of him.

In the great cabin Barbossa heard the wind with no great interest, they were safe enough here for the moment and its noise could not drown out the voices that surrounded him, nor could the failing light dim the faces that hovered everywhere he turned. Rest was his enemy, and sleep his undoing, and neither were welcome now. He could shoulder his way passed the ghosts when danger threatened, when Pintel and Raggetti came with their creeping and humble voices at odds with their shark eyed look, or when the weather forced a change of course, but once the danger was turned away then the dead would claim him again. Then, in their eyes and voices, he would relive every casual and unnecessary death that had littered his life, and the horror that had gone with it. Sleep was worst of all, for then it seemed that he wandered the after life, feeling the pain and watching the black waters of his sins seeping out to pollute the world he had once walked.

Yet, despite all of that, through all of it, some other part of him sneered and cursed at them and at him. This part was uncaring and unmoved by the misery he had set in train, or the blood he had spilled; that part wanted only to be free to be its own master and to drink deep on the pleasures that his power could bring him. That part he still thought of as himself, even though he could no longer remember the man he had been before the curse. Hour upon hour, day after day, these two parts of him raged at each other, neither winning nor ever looking like to, while the whispering voices and the faces with their accusing or pleading eyes surrounded him. Leaving him as tortured ands starving as ever he had been during the days of the Aztec curse. Jack Sparrow had never spoken of his visions in the locker but Barbossa could not help but wonder now how much similarity their hells might share, or how great was Jack's own need to avoid returning to whatever it was he had seen there. For himself there was little doubt how far he would go to win the race to the fountain, it would be to whatever would win it, however many more faces and voices it caused to had no choice, for that part of him that still would not mourn was also determined never to have to.

As the winds faded and swell eased the crew became restless, after hours of being contained below it was clear that they were anxious to get above. Barbossa knew that he should put their itchy feet to good use while there was opportunity, for another storm was bearing down upon them and the respite could not last long. They must be fed, and as it would be unwise to relight the fires below just ye,t a trip to the shore seemed the best and the safest option, for the crew had been loud in their protests at leaving Tortuga unsupplied. As the clouds broke for the first time in more than a day he issued orders for a shore party to collect water and whatever the small isle offered in way of victuals.

He watched the first boat away, taking Pintel and Raggetti but leaving others whose thoughts were also edging towards mutiny, and knew that he would not go ashore himself, for he no longer dared to leave the Pearl, and not only for fear of what the crew might do in his absence.

***

The storm emptied the streets of Tortuga in a way, and with the speed, that not even a full-blown attack by the Navy would have managed. The rain arrived in sheets that shredded leaves and flattened bushes in minutes, the petals of shattered flowers joining the filth and rubbish floating in the overrun kennels that soon spilt across the streets. Taverns battened their shutters tight and the whorehouses locked their doors as the rain extinguished the street flares and the clouds blotted out all trace of moon or stars, deepening the shadows to an all-enveloping black.

Jack was half way to the Mermaid when the worst of the weather arrived. The streets were soon awash, and he was glad that he couldn't see what the objects were that occasionally bumped his boots as he splashed through what had been a dusty track only minutes before. This was not a part of the town that he knew well, being too close to the butchers of the shambles for his nose's liking, or his stomach's, and the shops and houses faced onto the narrow street with neither doorway nor overhang to provide shelter. He cursed and dipped his head, striding into the rain and wishing for his hat, the sack now a wet bolster against his back and his hands slippery on the sash rope that closed it. It seemed an age, and his sweat-dampened shirt was soaked and plastered to his shoulder and chest, before he found some sliver of shelter by a pawnbroker's window.

Bracing his back against the casement he pulled the sash from the neck of the sack, cursing as the wet material resisted being loosened. When it was finally open he balanced the sack on his thigh and pulled out his hat and clapped it to his head pulling it forward to shelter his eyes, next came his coat, and he threw it across his shoulder while he retrieved his belt, baldric and sword. He buckled on the belt, grimacing as it tightened around the wet linen of his shirt, then stuffed the sash and the sack into it as he shrugged himself into his coat and settled his sword at his hip; only enemies would be abroad in such weather and he could no longer risk being without it. The sash could wait until he had more time and the sack he draped over his shoulders as further protection against the downpour before he stepped back into the street.

The Mermaid was barely a street away but both sack and coat were soaked by the time he was looking up at its flaking sign, washed clean and glistening as if new painted in the falling rain. From behind the shutters candlelight flickered but the door was locked, and, with a weary sigh, Jack slipped around the corner to the yard behind and scrambled over the surrounding wall.

In the yard the darkness was complete as Jack edged himself into the corner of the wall by the back door and settled down for some more waiting.

***

Ariadne woke Elanor with unexpected news long before she was done with sleeping.
"The Navy ship is on the move, it looks to be attempting to run before the next storm arrives, presumably hoping to make home port, or a more hospitable one, before the weather catches them."
"Will they make it?" she asked trying to drag her head up from the pillow.
"That depends upon where they are going and at present that is not clear."
"But they have upped anchor?" her brain felt like it was stuffed with feathers,
"Yes, and are already leaving the bay where we left Captain Sparrow."
With a sigh she rubbed eyes that still felt like hot coals.
"Are there any other ships in the vicinity?"
"Only the one anchored in the next bay."
She shook her head in an attempt to clear it and considered that.
"And with the break in the weather they may decide to go ashore, and if they were to do so they might see us," she thought out loud. "If we leave now can we make the rendezvous before the next storm arrives?"
"Possibly, though we may need to risk powered sailing to do so. However the Dawn Chaser can weather the approaching storm without any real danger, and even sailing under canvas we will be close enough to Tortuga to be able to take refuge should we need to. The full force of this storm has not yet arrived there but it should be passing by the time we make the bay."

Elanor thought about that for a moment, weighing the risks of another, as yet undetected, vessel also seeking shelter in that bay against whatever might result from losing sight of Jack for a further day or more. The proximity of the ship that was probably the Black Pearl was also concerning her, what little he had told her of the man she assumed was its current Captain was not reassuring. Caution won.

With a sigh she threw off the sheet and swung her feet to the deck, rubbing the remains of sleep from her eyes as she did so, her bed would have to wait until they were in open sea,
"Best we find Jack before he can do something risky. Weigh anchor and get us under way, stick to canvas for the moment." She yawned and stretched, "let's hope he's found Mr Gibbs and the supplies, all this cat and mouse is playing havoc with my sleep."
"It is your opinion that he is likely to do something risky?" Araidne asked.
Elanor gave a short laugh,
"He's a pirate Ariadne, he lives his life dodging noose wielding enemies and the swords of fair weather friends. I'm not even sure that I know what he would consider to be risky." She blinked wearily, "But I don't think I want to find out, at least not at the moment when he is out of range and I can't do anything to prevent it."
"But if he were get involved in anything dangerous it would not be our responsibility."
"Wouldn't it? I brought up that treasure from its nice safe resting place on the sea bed and gave him ideas."
"His conversation made it clear that he already had such ideas."
Elanor shrugged as she got to her feet,
"That maybe true but I gave him the hope of achieving them."
"My assessment is that Captain Sparrow is quite capable of such hope without your intervention."
"Perhaps. I suppose the truth of it is that I saved his life and the superstitions are right, having done that I am responsible. At least until he tells me otherwise."

"Would Captain Sparrow feel so obliged were your roles reversed?" Ariadne asked.
"I don't know. Probably not." Elanor stopped short as some of Jack's stories flitted though her mind, "Then again maybe I'm wrong in that. Perhaps that's what it was all the time, perhaps that's the answer."
"The answer to what?" Ariadne sounded almost curious.
"Ms Swann."
Elanor reached for her shirt without being aware of doing so, her mind lost in speculations,
"I had wondered what the relationship between them was, why he seemed so willing to help and protect her. Not to say why he put up with so much from her without tossing her overboard." She buttoned her shirt with a smile, "if he's told half the truth of it I'm not at all sure I would have been so forbearing; and I'm dammed sure that she would have spent much of her time under lock and key if she had behaved so on my ship. She sounds to have been a spoiled little madam, at least as he tells of her, so why not just consign her to the devil?"
"That might be nothing more to it than the obvious."
"That he had ambitions to slip into her bed?" She shrugged, "I suppose that is the most obvious answer, but somehow I don't think so, any more than I think that Jack's as obvious as he would have the world believe. He had opportunity enough and doesn't seem to have pressed the matter. I don't doubt that if she had offered at the right time he wouldn't have refused, but why pussy foot around her in such a way? He had enough time to seduce her without ever doing much about it, at least if what he has told us about their adventures is true."

She paused in her dressing for a moment, head cocked in thought,
"I'd wondered if he had a sister or a daughter somewhere that she reminded him of."
A wicked grin settled on her face for a moment,
"I've saved the daughter idea for if he ever really tries to get under my skin, somehow I don't think he'll like it!"
" I can well appreciate that he might not." Ariadne sounded almost conspiratorial.
Elanor smiled at the thought of Jack's likely response for a moment longer, then she shrugged again and reached for her trousers,
"But as I said I might have been missing the point, it may be that having saved her life he felt responsible for her in some way, just as I feel some responsibility for him."
She paused for a moment as she pulled them on,
"I'm still not clear about why he saved her in the first place," she said eventually, the expression in her face and voice considering, "seems more than a little risky given that mark on his arm."
"Perhaps he thought that gratitude would prevent them from looking for a reason to hang her saviour," Ariadne said dryly, "and that their relief might translate into more concrete and pecuniary expressions of thanks."

Elanor grunted as she tightened her belt,
"Something else he learned the hard way then. Never to trust to the humanity of the self righteous, it's always negotiable, not to say conditional. Not something we would need to learn eh?"
"Indeed." Ariadne seemed to almost hurry away from the remark, "Do you expect Captain Sparrow to be waiting for us?"
"Hope, but not expect. It depends on what happened to Mr Gibbs I imagine."
"And if he is not waiting for us tomorrow night? What do you intend to do?"
Elanor thought about that as she reached for her deck shoes,
"I'm not sure," she said eventually, "but I'm damn sure that I'm not climbing those bloody cliffs!"

***

The maid arrived what seemed to be an eternity later, rushing out into the yard with a slop pail and heading into the darkness as fast as the slippery cobbles would allow. Jack barely thought about it before he followed her.

One the far side of the yard was a gate and he could just see the white of the girl's apron though the wet gloom as she opened the lock and slipped away down the alley that ran behind it. Moving more slowly Jack followed her, hope rising for he thought he knew where she was headed. He was right, for at the end was a small cluster of low buildings from which came the chatter of hens and the grunts of what could only be pigs. The girl entered what he took to be a sty and he heard the sound of the bucket being emptied.

Crouching down, he waited until she came out and turned to latch the sty; as the latch dropped home he stood and grasped her wrist his other hand covering her mouth and her squeak of surprise. He leaned forward and spoke quietly into her ear,
"Need a word lass, preferably somewhere drier than here. Savvy?"
She froze for a moment then nodded her understanding, jerking her head in the direction of another alley running away from the sties. He frowned and his hand on her wrist tightened, until her mouth moved a little beneath his fingers and he eased the pressure,
"Barn." She muttered quickly, "down there. Master stores the barley for brewin'. We can go there. Can't be long though, master will come looking for me."
Jack uncovered her mouth and eased his grip on her wrist, looking more closely at the face peering up at him, sighing at what he saw; twelve if she were a day, just his luck. He smiled at her,
"Word I said lass, and word I meant. Information is all I'm looking to take from you. But this barn will do well enough."
She nodded and he let her move in front of him, leading the way down past the livestock to a passage barely wider than his shoulders and dripped on by over hanging trees. The girl was obviously nervous for all her offer of a moment before for she fumbled with the door clattering the lock in a manner that made him wince,
"Easy girl," he chastised her, "If I wanted the world to know my business I'd have hammered on the front door."
"I'm sorry sir, but they're so wet things slip through me fingers."
Feeling the sodden weight of his coat on his shoulders Jack could only grunt acceptance of that, reaching around her to push the door open, indicating that she should go first, staring into the darkess behind them for a moment before following her in. As he eased the door girl reached for a lantern and a flint, Jack moved quickly, catching at her wrist before she could light it,
"No need for that, I'll not be here long."
He pushed gently into the barn releasing her as he did so.
"No need for a alarm missy, just a question or two."
She nodded and retreated further into the shadows sinking down onto a bale of something, her back to the door.

Jack moved around to face her, seeing the apprehension in her eyes, even though her face was in shadow. With a sigh he pulled off his hat and shook the drops from it, keeping his hand away from sword or pistol and hoping the innocent action would ease her anxiety enough for him to get a straight answer quickly, but she didn't wait to be asked,
"Don't know nothin' sir," she gulped. "Not about anythin'. Please don' hurt me sir, I'm a good girl, I've done nothin' on me mother's life I haven't. I'll do what you want but jus' don' hurt me." She finished this astonishing speech by bursting into noisy tears.
Jack was appalled. Not least by the noise such a small person could make with so little provocation. He took a step away from her, looking at her as uncertainly as if she were a canon about to explode,
"Didn't say you had did I?" he said in what he hoped was a soothing manner, but that had no effect and if anything her tears got louder. He frowned and made a patting gesture towards her shoulder, careful not to touch her, "No need for the wailing and gnashing of teeth girl. All I want is to ask if you've seen a man I'm looking for hereabouts."
"Don't know anythin' 'bout any man sir," she said her wails increasing in volume again.

Jack closed his hands into fists, shut his eyes for a moment then swore under his breath struggling to keep his calm, in desperation he put one hand to his lips and patted the air between them with his other,
"Shhh, for heavens sake! Not as if I'm asking for the answer to the riddle of life! Just if you have seen a man. Name of Gibbs, sailor he is. Has he been seen around here?"
She gulped and shook her head,
"No sir, no man name of Gibbs I've seen around here. Please don' hurt me sir."
Jack stared at her, his frown deepening at the injustice of the plea,
"Hurt! I have been very careful not to hurt you miss. Have I threatened you? No I have not, neither sword nor pistol have I touched." He narrowed his eyes and pointed an accusing finger at her, "Not even as much as loosened me belt now have I? Why would I hurt you? Or do anything to one of your undersized and whelp like persuasion."
Still began wailing again, and, anger taking over, Jack's frown deepened further as he took a step closer and growled at her,
" Stow that noise missy, now, for there is no call for it."
The girl cast him a nervous look and fell silent with another gulp. After a moment of near silence in she just stared at him with wide eyes, and in which all that could be heard was the beating of rain on the roof. Jack relaxed a little, letting his pent up breath out with a soft hiss,
"That's better, don't need to invite the whole neighbourhood to hear our business now do we?"
The girl dropped her eyes to the floor and shook her head. Jack smiled at the top of her head brightly,
"Glad we have an accord on the matter. Now all I want to know is if a man called Gibbs has been looking for someone around these premises."

There was a rustle and Jack saw the girl's eyes shut, her hands clasping tightly together in her lap, he swung around just in time to catch sight of a familiar face, but with an unfamiliar expression, looming out from the shadows behind him. He frowned,
"Where the hell.." Was all he managed to say before something heavy collided with his head and the darkness became absolute.