Harry & the Pirate IV: The Chalice of St. Francis
Chapter Eleven: Malvados Queridos
Harry stood gripping the rail of the ship as she looked back across the bay, a vast expanse of rippling gray-blue in the pre-dawn light. Most of those in the city at the edges of its waters still lay sleeping, although there were, she thought miserably, several young men near and dear to her that were likely very much awake.
Oh, Tom! she thought, and bit her lower lip to stop its trembling. She would not cry!
She had shed remarkably few tears in these last hours, although she had not quite been able to refrain when Jack had at last been restored to them, outside the gates of El Morro, accompanied by Norrington. Though Alphonse’s careful grooming had undergone some most disturbing changes, her husband’s demeanor had seemed as composed as ever; but when he had entered the dimly lit coach she could see a look in his eyes, and a set expression to his mouth that told her there was more to this story.
She had said nothing, not trusting herself to speak as he’d climbed in and sat down beside her. But, after James took his seat, the door slammed shut, and the horses given the office to start, Jack had turned to her, and took her hand in his, summoning a tired smirk.
“An’ how’s me little ‘termagant’?” he teased.
“Oh, Jack!” she whispered, her eyes filling.
Completely ignoring the presence of Norrington, Don Alejandro, and Juana, Jack scooped her into his arms and drew her onto his lap, settling back into the corner of the carriage seat to hold her close.
“Did they hurt you?” she said, very low.
“Not so much. James and Don Alejandro were of assistance on that score, thank God.”
“Thank God, indeed!” She hugged him fiercely, and said in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry!”
But he’d chuckled at that. “Are you? But that was the best part of the evening, love.”
She gave a little bark that was half laughter, half sob. “But did they not treat you more cruelly because of me?”
“No, Harry. If anything it helped, for otherwise they’d not have known of that woman’s temper and propensity to violence. Here: let me see.”
An insistent finger had lifted her chin, and she sat up a little, sniffling, and let him examine the livid mark under her left eye.
From the seat opposite them, Juana said, apologetically, “We set a cold compress on it when we arrived home, but I fear it was too late to be of use.”
“Apparently so,” Jack agreed, and placed a gentle kiss on the bruise. “Makes you look quite roguish, love. An honorable memento of a just conflict, bravely fought.”
Harry laughed at this grandiose description of behavior that would be considered execrable by nearly anyone with pretensions to gentility. “I doubt my brother would agree.”
“Ah, but he might. He’s quite fond of Owens, you know.”
“Yes - but that is another thing…” She broke off to take the handkerchief he was offering, blew her nose, as daintily as possible, and threw a “So sorry!” to the others before continuing: “Jack, the boys were not yet returned when we left! If they have not gone back to the Pearl, what shall we do?”
Norrington said, blandly, “There will be no difficulty. Unlike some persons of my acquaintance, I am not facing expulsion from Santiago and will attend the summit as planned. The delegation from Barbados - old Sir Godfrey Fortescue and his entourage, who were present at the reception tonight and witnessed the… er… debacle - have offered to let me stay with them. I’m certain he won’t mind two additional guests. We will remove there, and they will see us back to Port Royal at the conclusion of the summit.”
Don Corozón said, “You are welcome to stay on with us, James.”
But Norrington said, “No, Don Alejandro. It is most kind of you, but I cannot believe our continued presence would be of benefit to you. We have put you through enough. And in something less than two days! That must be some sort of record, don’t you think, Jack?”
Jack gave a long-suffering sigh, and said to Harry, “Trust Norrington to turn on a man with ‘quips and sentences and paper bullets of the brain’.”
“Yes!” said Harry, and cast a resentful look at the Admiral. “It is not well done of you, James!”
Norrington’s eyes narrowed, and Jack said, “Oooh, Harry! Be careful. I fear our James might be more disapproving than your brother!”
But James refuted this. “Hardly. If I were, I would certainly refrain from close association with as pretty a pair of rogues as ever breathed.”
Harry dimpled, but Jack scowled. “Pretty!”
“Or should I say ‘beautiful’?” James goaded.
Jack rolled his eyes, conceding defeat. “Y’can say anything y’like, I suppose, seein’ as how we’re getting out of town in one piece.”
Conversation had continued in this vein for the rest of the journey to the docks, where Gibbs was waiting in the cool hour before first light, as per the message Norrington had caused to be sent out to the ship. Two longboats and stout oarsmen had accompanied him, and were ready to haul the miscreants, their dresser, valet, and considerable luggage back to the Pearl. But when the carriages stopped and the passengers emerged, the good humor had rapidly dissipated.
Gibbs, who had not been given the reasons behind this hasty departure, sighed with relief at the sight of Jack as he emerged from the carriage. “Good t’see you, Captain! Something go amiss?”
“You might say that,” said Jack, helping Harry down.
Gibbs stared at the Captain’s lady in the lamplight. “Lord, what happened? You’re hurt, ma’am!”
Harry said, “Only a little. But Gibbs: have you seen Owens and Charles?”
Gibbs gave a start. “They’re not with you?”
“No,” Jack said, in a low voice, for soldiers from El Morro had accompanied them to the harbor, and were now watching from a little distance. “They were seein’ about that business of ours, and we thought maybe they’d had some success and gone back to the ship with… it.”
But Gibbs shook his head, slowly, looking stunned. “Jack, Owens came over, hours ago, to fetch Tom. Didn’t you send him?”
Jack stared, words temporarily failing him.
“Oh, God,” Harry breathed, suddenly cold.
“Good Lord,” Norrington said, sounding more annoyed than stunned.
Jack roused abruptly from his stupor and said, quiet, but fierce, “He came for Tom? No, I didn’t send him! Do you mean Tom’s off the ship?”
“He is that,” said Gibbs. “So sorry, Jack, ma’am… but it was Owens! How was I to know? He said you needed Tom, for the… er… business.”
“Oh, Jack!” said Harry. “What can we do?”
But Norrington spoke. “There is nothing that can be done at this present. You are under orders to leave before dawn, and certainly must do so. Owens would not do such a thing on a whim, and he and Charles will, no doubt, keep him safe.”
“Aye,” Jack admitted, with some difficulty. “Owens… Owens wouldn’t let him come to harm. We have to go.”
Juana put her hands out, taking each unhappy parent by an arm. “I will not tell you not to worry, for that would be an absurdity. But you must trust in God, and know that we will do all we can to find Tom and keep him safe.”
Don Alejandro nodded, and said quickly and quietly, “After your escort falls behind, circle back under cover of night. There are many inlets and small bays along the coast nearby where the Black Pearl can be hidden. We will keep your son safe at our house until you come for him.”
Jack nodded. “I thank you, both. For everything.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Harry had embraced Juana, squeezing her eyes closed and biting her lip.
Just as she was doing now, an hour later, as the Black Pearl made its way from the harbor.
She wondered vaguely what Jack was doing. He had said very little on the way back to the ship, though he had encouraged her patiently in climbing the Jacob’s Ladder up the side. Once they were safe aboard, he had barked out a series of orders, and then disappeared below. That was some time ago, now, and Harry decided she might as well see what he was doing.
But as she turned away and started across the deck, the companionway doors opened and he emerged, resplendent in the garb of a buccaneer. The kohl around his eyes had been reapplied; there was already a carefully trimmed dark shadow of facial hair along his upper lip and jawline; and Alphonse had even begun to braid some of the trinkets back into his hair. Harry could not help but laugh for joy, clapping her hands together at the sight of him, and her heart swelled as he turned to her with an answering smile, and a light in his eye.
He strode over to her, and took her hands. “Better, eh?”
“Much better,” she agreed.
He bent and kissed her bruised cheek again, and then gave her hands a squeeze. “It’ll be fine, lass. You’ll see. We’ll have them back in no time.”
o-o-o
The Black Pearl sailed slowly southwest, dogged by two Spanish sloops that had been sent to ensure her departure from the area.
“Bloody hell, I’d like to blow the bastards out o’ the water!” Jack exclaimed, late in the afternoon, when he and Harry emerged from below, after a long, refreshing, and much needed post-luncheon nap. “Don’t they know it’s time to leave off and let us go about our business?”
“They are certainly most annoying,” Harry agreed.
“Probably think we’re laggards, too, when the Pearl could sail circles around them.”
Gibbs smiled at Jack’s grumbling. “Well, we could show ‘em our heels, but we’d have that much farther to sail back for the wee malvado, now, wouldn’t we?”
Jack scowled, and said to Harry, “You’re certain I can’t cane ‘im, love?”
Harry rolled her eyes. “You know he would not have gone with Michael without good reason. But if you find that it isn’t so… well, you will do as you think best. But… but don’t hurt him!”
Jack and Gibbs both laughed at that, and Jack slipped an arm about her waist, drew her close, kissed her soundly, and said, “Y’know, you’re dead soft for a pirate’s wench.”
She smiled up at him. “I know. Fortunately I possess assets that offset even such a failing as that!”
“That you do,” he agreed. Keeping his arm about her, he looked out once more at their persistent escort and the now distant coast. “As it happens, you’re likely right. Owens must’ve had his reasons, both for takin’ the lad and not bein’ straight with you, Josh.”
“Aye,” Gibbs growled, “though it still grates that ‘e weren’t. I’ll be havin’ a few words with the lad when next we meet. After we have ‘em safe, that is.”
“May it soon come to pass!” Harry said.
“Amen!” agreed Gibbs.
o-o-o
At dusk, the Spanish sloops finally came about and headed back toward Santiago. Jack ordered the Pearl slowed even further, but waited until full dark to give the order for which he and the whole crew had been waiting.
“All right, you scurvy dogs! Bring ‘er in irons and get those white sails off ‘er, now!”
A cheer went up, and his men swarmed up the ratlines, climbing into the starry night, eager to do their Captain’s bidding. There was not a man among them reluctant to return to Cuba for Tom Sparrow and Michael Owens, and Charles Norrington as well, if need be. They’d watched the latter two grow from skittery boys to fine young men; and Tom was something of a talisman among them, a worthy heir to their celebrated Captain.
An hour later, the Pearl had come about, too, and was well underway, aided by a light but steady breeze that polished the stars and played with the wispy curls ‘round Harry’s face. She stood on the quarterdeck with Jack as he manned the helm, guiding his Pearl toward a coastal town near Santiago that was known to him: Seboney.
Harry, who had watched him pore over his charts before lunch and pinpoint the place, was more than a little concerned that the town was nearly twenty miles from Santiago.
“Aye, that’s true - but the road’s well kept: not a bad ride, at all, and far enough from Santiago for the Pearl’s safety.”
“Ride? Will you be able to acquire a horse?”
“Aye. That’s the best part. I’ve done some smuggling in the area, and one of me best customers has a rancho overlooking the coast! I’m fairly certain he’ll loan me a horse and trappings for it, or let me buy ‘em. I’ll take some blunt, just in case. I’d rather not steal one: it’d be a bit inconvenient bein’ a wanted man at the beginning and the end of the journey, both.”
Harry frowned. “But you haven’t ridden in months! It won’t be very comfortable for you.”
“Don’t I bloody know it!” he growled. “I’m like to be crippled. That boy of yours will have a lot to answer for. And Michael Owens, too!”
o-o-o
Don Antonio Gomez, owner of a neat little rancho on the coast of Cuba near Saboney, was sitting on his veranda, indulging in a light desayuno and looking over the newspaper and his personal correspondence, which he’d brought from Santiago the previous day. He had just taken a sip of the delicious coffee his plump and pretty housekeeper, Margarita, had brought him when there came from behind him the distinctive sound of a pistol being cocked, causing him to inhale a portion of the beverage, and precipitating a violent fit of choking.
He managed to set the cup down without breaking it, but before he could turn, a familiar, though seldom heard voice came to his ears - “Antonio, lad, no! I didn’t mean it!” -- and his back was pounded with painful enthusiasm.
“J-Jack Sparrow!” he finally managed. “You… you villain! What are you doing here?”
“Just droppin’ in to visit me old friend, Tony,” Jack said, leaving off the pounding and insinuating himself into a chair opposite his host. “Margarita make those?” He reached out to take one of three tasty-looking pastries that were attractively disposed on a plate of fine china, only to have his hand sharply slapped. “Ow!”
“Mine, you pirate!” said Don Antonio. “You may not!”
“Not?” Jack pouted. “Is this your famous Spanish hospitality, then?”
Don Antonio pursed his lips in a show of disapproval, then called sharply, “Margarita! Margarita! Aquí!”
There sounded a bustling from within the house. “Si, Don Antonio… Qué…” But her query was cut short as she emerged onto the veranda. “Juan Gorrión! Ah! You adorable scoundrel!”
Jack stood and allowed himself to be clasped to Margarita’s substantial bosom. Released, he gave her a buss on her round cheek. “Well met, my one true love. But tell me: are there more of those pastries, and perhaps some coffee? I’m devilish sharp set!”
“I will bring them immediately! Ah, you are so thin. Your wife, she does not take care of you as she should. I will only be a moment. Sit you down, and Don Antonio will keep you company until I return with your repast.”
Don Antonio, whose person showed clear evidence of Margarita’s skills as a cook, shook his head as his unexpected guest resumed his seat. “Sí. This wife of yours. She seems to have gained some notoriety, and most assuredly not because of her cooking!”
“Notoriety?” Jack frowned.
Don Antonio lowered his voice. “I was in Santiago just yesterday, my friend. I do not know what business you thought to conduct during that summit, but you and your lively spouse have not been at all discreet.”
“We were plenty discreet, Tony. Just met up with someone from me chequered past.”
“Which disrupted your chequered present to a nicety. I know, you see. The incident at the reception and your subsequent departure from Santiago was much discussed among my associates yesterday. The gravity of the conjecture makes me wonder all the more why you have turned up on my veranda this fine morning.”
“Why, so I can borrow a horse from you and return to that fair city, of course.”
Don Antonio stared. He was not deceived by Jack's offhand tone: there were weighty matters afoot, though the pirate chose to make light of the risks. Finally he said, “I will not say you are a fool, for I know you of old and you will have your purposes. But I will say this: if Esparza again lays hold of you, you will not leave El Morro alive, and your final days there will be most unpleasant.”
Jack sighed. “Wasn’t a bed of roses night before last. But what exactly did you hear?”
“The tale of the reception was the amusing part. There is a more serious rumor - just a whisper, now, though it will grow in volume: the cup of the Saint has been stolen from the Cathedral.”
“Really!” Jack exclaimed, then realized he’d used too bright a tone and cleared his throat. “I mean… most unfortunate. But perhaps it’s just that: a rumor.”
Don Antonio shook his head. “Ah, my friend! You know something of this, I think, and I tell you: you play with fire! Do you not realize the fortune Esparza and the church have made since the cup was put on display? Neither will take kindly to a disruption of those proceeds. And the rumor not only speaks of its theft, but also places the blame at your door, though why I cannot say. Merely a coincidence, I had thought -- but perhaps not, eh?”
At this point, Margarita returned with Jack’s breakfast, and he flirted briefly with her as she laid it out for him, and suffered a teasing pinch to his cheek before she retired once more to the house.
He rubbed his cheek, and picked up a pastry, contemplating the sight of its golden flakiness. “Well, Tony,” he said slowly. “I won’t say you’re entirely off the mark, though I didn’t take it. I’m here for another reason entirely.” Watching his host’s reaction to his words, he took a bite out of the pastry.
Don Antonio shook his head again, and laughed ruefully. “Oh, my friend. You are playing with fire. Tell me then a little more, and what else I may do to help you - most preferably without being burned myself!”
~.~
On to Chapter Twelve