"Black Waters," Chapter Fourteen
Title: "Black Waters"
Author:
sheila_snow
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack Sparrow/Will Turner
Warnings: A/U, Angst, Non-Con, Gratuitous Will Turner Abuse
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns 'em -- he just doesn't know how to treat 'em right. I'm not treating them very nice either, but I'm most certainly not making any money from this!
Summary: Anamaria is determined to get to the bottom of things, and Joshamee Gibbs had better not stand in her way.
A/N: After reviewing my previous entries, I find to my horror that I haven't even mentioned the two people who have made this whole story possible. First is
katma, who besides being a fabulous beta reader, has also been my cheerleader and coach from the start of this fic . . . quite some time ago! My effusive thanks also to
anobtuselife, who got me into the LiveJournal community, kickstarted me into reviving this story and is also proving very good at finding my plot holes, LOL! Any mistakes remaining are all mine, because I don't know when to stop tinkering with it. Thanks so much, ladies!
Chapter Fourteen
It was nearly sunset, but the bright red-orange tendrils were just beginning to paint the few clouds hovering near the horizon. Joshamee Gibbs hummed softly to himself as he sat crosslegged in his own private domain - the little speck of deck just aft of the bowsprit.
He felt more in tune with the ship here than he did on the quarterdeck, maybe because the quarterdeck was Jack's domain . . . and the Pearl was Jack's ship after all.
But to Josh the ship simply felt more alive here. She lifted her elegant nose to the rolling waves as if daring them to try to vanquish her - her bowsprit dipping and swaying like a taunting sword. When Josh closed his eyes, the foaming water sloughing off her wooden flanks sounded almost like the trilling laughter of a feisty lass he had once known a long time ago.
Josh sighed. A long time ago indeed.
He had never felt the encroaching years as much as he had these last weeks. Jack's moodiness and depression had affected everyone on board, but Josh had thought things would return to normal when the cap'n brought the young blacksmith back on board.
Taking a long drink from the flask that was never far from his side, Josh sighed again. He should have known better. There was very little about Jack Sparrow that was "normal," even before he'd become a pirate.
Oh, Josh knew now what Jack's problem was - at least, a part of it.
He hadn't made the connection before, hadn't even wanted to remember that wretched time so many years ago. But one lonely midwatch last week, he and the new hand, Tom Smythers, had got to talking. He had innocently asked the old tar how he had met Jack, and when Tom had recounted his meeting with Jack at "The Severed Arms," something clicked in Josh's mind and the old memories had come flooding back.
His jaw working side-to-side in his frustration, Josh mentally kicked himself for not coming to the realization sooner. He should have known there was only one human being who could rattle Jack that effectively. Not even Barbossa, his betrayal and the subsequent loss of the Pearl affected Jack as much as the return of his old nemesis had.
Josh therefore hadn't been surprised at young William's condition when he and Jack finally returned to the Pearl. Tomlinson's vile cruelty was well known to every man-jack in the fleet long before the man's court martial and eventual imprisonment.
What Josh hadn't expected was Jack's behavior since their return.
After boarding the Pearl, Jack had turned to assist an obviously weakened Will off the boarding ladder and over the gunnel, but the lad had pulled back violently from the supporting hands on his waist. Josh didn't know what words the obviously enraged young blacksmith had said to Jack, but their effect was immediate.
Jack had jerked his hands back and held them tight to his sides, his swarthy face going almost impossibly pale. He had nodded once, sharply, then had turned and led the way for Will to the captain's cabin - his cabin. Jack hadn't looked back, so he hadn't seen the anger drain visibly from Will's face and posture - hadn't noticed the boy's eyes change to reveal a depth of sadness and loneliness that it might make a grown man weep to see 'em.
No, Jack hadn't seen. Hadn't even looked the boy in the eyes since then, as far as Josh could tell. Damned fool he be, too.
But Jack was visibly unhappy - a dark, brooding presence haunting the quarterdeck - and an unhappy captain led to an unhappy ship. Why, it was enough to make a man long for the quiet company of pigs, regardless of their smell.
At least the pigs didn't brood.
Sighing, he pulled a piece of half-completed scrimshaw from his coat. Might as well do something useful. Removing his knife from its sheath, he held the blade up to the sky and ran his thumb carefully along its length to check the sharpness.
"Should have known I'd find ye lazin' about up here."
Josh lurched forward at the loud, unexpected voice and discovered to his dismay that the knife he held was quite sharp indeed. "Damn you to the seven hells, woman!" He put his lacerated thumb to his mouth and tried to stem the tide of blood. "What you think you're about, sneakin' up on a man like that?"
Anamaria merely looked down at him, arms crossed, her habitual frown firmly in place.
Damnable, contrary female. "I've said time an' again that it be bad luck havin' a woman on board, and this just be more proof of it, mark my words!" Josh energetically flourished his bleeding thumb at her face.
Anamaria smiled sweetly at him. "Joshamee. . . ."
Josh stuck his thumb back in his mouth and winced. He knew that particular tone of voice . . . and knew it didn't bode well for one Joshamee Gibbs.
"I was wonderin'," she said. "What happened to the last ship ye were on . . . before ye came to Tortuga?"
"And why in heaven's name would you want to be knowin' that?"
Anamaria smiled again. "Oh, no reason, just curious."
He narrowed his eyes. When Anamaria smiled, it was usually wise to get as far away from her as possible. Unfortunately, that was kind of difficult while they were both still shipboard . . . and in the middle of the Caribbean. He said warily, "She was a rumrunner, ambushed by a Navy frigate and sunk."
"And the one before that?"
"Ran onto a reef durin' a storm."
"And. . .?"
He scowled. "She sank."
"And the one before that?"
Josh glowered at her. "I'm still likin' to know where you be goin' with this."
"Why, you know us women, Mr. Gibbs, always wantin' to know things we shouldn't."
Josh snorted. "That be the simple truth. Well, if you must know - the cook fell asleep in the galley with a bottle of rum in his hand."
Anamaria raised an eyebrow.
"The rum tipped over."
She raised the eyebrow a little higher.
"The rum fell into the galley stove, and the blasted ship caught fire," Josh said in exasperation.
There was an amused snort from Anamaria. "And she sank."
"Well, of course, she sank! Most ships on fire are goin' to sink. This one burned to the waterline, capsized and then sank!"
Anamaria smiled. "And just how many women did ye have on board those three ships?"
Josh snorted. "Why, none, of course. It's bad luck. . . ." He stopped short as the realization hit.
"It seems to me, Joshamee Gibbs, that it be more bad luck not to have a woman aboard ship." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Mebbe you ought to be thinkin' on what else might be causin' the bad luck, hmmm?"
"Now you see here, Missy, it ain't good to be makin' fun of sailors' traditions. Mr. Cotton over there has been sailin' with me for nigh on ten years now, and he'll tell you. . . ."
He was interrupted by a loud squawk from the foremast. "Dead men tell no tales!"
Josh paused and gave Mr. Cotton's parrot a long, intent stare before he finally turned to face Anamaria.
Ana cocked her head thoughtfully and then shrugged. "Could be," she said.
"How do we goes about testin' it?"
Anamaria shrugged again. "My ma had a tasty recipe for parrot ala orange. Good for the scurvy, she said."
Josh glanced up at the foremast again, eyeing the brightly colored bird as it strutted arrogantly up and down the foresail yardarm. He had never really liked the parrot anyway - and it probably was bad luck.
Maybe it was a female parrot. . . ?
"Worth a try, methinks," Josh finally said aloud.
Anamaria frowned, her mood obviously darkening as she shifted her gaze to the captain's cabin. "Mebbe I could get Will to eat that."
"The lad be no better, I take it?"
"No." With all her faults, Anamaria could say more with one word than most men could get across in a day. That word practically oozed frustration and worry.
Josh grunted. "It'd be a darn shame, it would, Jack spendin' all that time and trouble to rescue the boy, just to have 'im up and die on 'im."
Anamaria eyed him with a thoughtful expression on her face. "I told Jack we ought to be takin' him back to Port Royal."
"Hah! And I'm sure he took to that idea like a fish to water."
"He was a mite disagreeable 'bout it, aye."
Josh lowered his voice. "Now, Missy, you be knowin' Jack a mighty long time as well. The cap'n ain't about to give up somethin' that he considers to be his. Not without a fight."
Anamaria glared at him. "And if 'e loses this fight?"
"Then we'd best be sure there's enough rum on board to fill the Caribbean, 'cause that's what it'll take, lass. And more, besides."
"But the boy needs care, Joshamee Gibbs, ye knows it as much as I!"
"Aye, that I do know." Josh shook his head sadly. "But the lad had the misfortune to come between two men who hate each other as much as any two men can. Jack won't be takin' him back to Port Royal, mark my words. He won't be takin' a chance on losin' young Will again."
Anamaria sat down abruptly next to him, crossed her legs and leaned forward intently. "Tell me about him - this man Jack hates so much that it's obviously addled his already addled wits."
"I think that's somethin' you should be askin' Jack."
She laughed, sharp and loud. "And ye think he'd tell me?"
Josh snorted. "Hell no, woman."
Anamaria leaned in closer. "Now listen here. I be the one takin' care of that boy, what with Cap'n Jack avoidin' him like he's got the Black Death, so I have a rights to know."
Taking a nervous swig from his flask, Josh wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked around. "That be a part of Jack's life he don't take kindly to tellin'."
Anamaria threw her hands in the air and rolled her eyes heavenward. "That's why I'm askin' ye, man."
Josh hated when a female was right. It just didn't seem natural. "You're goin' to be the death of me yet, woman - with or without that blasted parrot, mark my words!"
Anamaria smiled sweetly. "But ye'll be goin' with a clean conscience, that ye will."
"Harumph. I'll tell you part of it, and more than that you don't need to know!" Josh took another restorative swig from his flask, looking past Anamaria to the slowly darkening sea. "When I was much younger and more foolish than I am now, I ran afoul of a press gang while quenchin' my thirst at a tavern in Portsmouth."
Anamaria rested her chin in her hand. "A tavern? Who would've guessed?"
"Watch your mouth, woman." He glared at her, but Anamaria merely batted her eyelashes at him coquettishly.
That only managed to make Josh even more wary. He wondered idly why the woman reminded him so much of a shark . . . when a shark didn't even have eyelashes.
Josh decided he'd best think on that later.
He cleared his throat. "As I was sayin', not only did I suddenly find myself an involuntary guest of the Navy, but I had the misfortune of being pressed by the crew of one Cap'n Girard Tomlinson, a highborn aristocrat - some even said a distant relative of the King himself. Now, he was a savvy cap'n, knew how to smoke the Frenchies right out of their safe harbors, he did, but a harsher and more cruel man had never sailed the seven seas." He shook his head sadly. "The man had no conscience, it was said, and he'd make your life a livin' hell if you crossed him."
"Sounds like 'e should've been a pirate."
Josh looked at her silently for a few moments. "Oh, but he was, lass, that he was."
Anamaria sat back and crossed her arms. "Now I knows ye be just spinnin' a yarn, Joshamee. A highborn King's man, a pirate?"
Josh swallowed nervously, his eyes glancing briefly toward the stern. "Sometimes it don't matter what you're born into, but what you makes of your life. Cap'n Tomlinson had the soul of a pirate right enough, but as evil and twisted as Barbossa, he was." He swallowed again. "Now you knows that in the King's Navy, the prize money for a captured ship is divided between the cap'n and the crew, right?"
"Aye," she said, the disgust evident in her voice. "With the cap'n receivin' a full quarter of the swag instead of equal shares, as it should be."
"Well, that may be the case with most, but Cap'n Tomlinson now, he felt he ought to be keepin' all that prize money for himself."
Anamaria narrowed her eyes, but stayed silent.
"The cap'n would send his prizes off with strict orders to follow a set course back to England, but them poor souls who made up the prize crew never saw her shores again. You see, Tomlinson had another ship set to intercept the prize before it could make harbor. Pirates they were, wicked pirates . . . mannin' an outsized three-masted tops'l schooner."
Anamaria gasped.
Josh nodded his head sharply. "Aye, lass, I think you be seein' the connection now. The shipyard that laid her huge keel never made another like her."
He raised his eyes toward the rigging, absentmindedly noting that the shrouds were set up and the sails filling properly before he continued. "The prize crew were far too few to fight off a fully manned and armed pirate vessel. So, Tomlinson's pirates took the prize, sailed it back to France and sold the ship and any cargo back to them. The good cap'n then kept all the money from the prize, minus the pittance he gave his pirate crew, and no one was the wiser."
Josh's voice lowered then, as cold as a winter's fog. "Aye, no one was the wiser . . . 'cause he had every man-jack of the prize crew killed. In cold blood."
Anamaria looked aghast. "He had his own crewmen killed?"
"Oh, aye," Josh confirmed. "Tomlinson didn't have every prize intercepted, of course - that would have been far too suspicious - but he still managed to make himself mighty wealthy with this scheme, he did. That is, until the day that one of the prize crew was actually lucky enough to survive."
Anamaria snorted. "Bein' lucky won't get ye far - Jack always says ye have to make your own luck."
Josh was silent for a few moments. He feared Jack had only recently learned that luck - no matter how you came about it - wasn't always enough.
"A young lieutenant he was," Josh continued, "fresh from the midshipman's berth and given his first command as master of a prize crew. It was a merchant vessel we had taken with hardly a shot fired - a fine, stout ship, with the master's wife and thirteen year old daughter aboard. This young lieutenant of ours spoke a little of the Frenchie's tongue, and that was why he'd been put in charge of its prize crew."
Josh stopped, looking astern again, seemingly lost in thought as he watched the solitary figure on the quarterdeck pacing tirelessly back and forth.
Anamaria followed his gaze and gasped. "Jack?" Her voice was pitched even higher than normal in her disbelief. "Oh, now ye be really talkin' daft, Joshamee Gibbs."
Upending the flask once more, Josh frowned when he discovered it was empty. He sighed, deciding to simply ignore her. "I think it more likely this young lieutenant was too bright for his own good and was beginnin' to suspect somethin' amiss with our good cap'n . . . so the cap'n had decided to be rid of him. But bein' the resourceful lad he was, the lieutenant managed to escape the pirates, with the young French lass besides, and sailed a dinghy 'cross the open ocean back to where our ship was patrollin'."
"A dinghy, an' not sea turtles?" Ana asked sarcastically.
Josh glowered at her, tossing his empty flask aside. "Do you want to hear the tale, or don't you?"
Anamaria made a flurrying motion with her hands.
Not a bad imitation of Jack, Josh thought absently. "Now, the lass was in a bad way by the time we came across them, and Cap'n Tomlinson offered his cabin for her to recover. Well, it seems the young lieutenant had gone for'ard to the captain's cabin to ask him about some disquietin' things he'd heard from the pirate crew. He heard the girl scream, and came through the door just in time to watch Tomlinson slit the girl's throat from ear to ear."
Anamaria picked at a loose thread in her vest, looking up at Josh finally. "Ye're not just spinnin' a yarn, are ye?"
"No, lass, I'm not. The young lieutenant - along with his good friend, Bill Turner - led a mutiny that ended in the court martial of the cap'n. With the lieutenant's testimony and the records of all the ill-gotten gains, Cap'n Tomlinson was convicted of both treason and murder. But his social rank saved him from the hangman's noose, and he was sentenced instead to life imprisonment."
Anamaria merely watched him, uncharacteristically subdued.
"That young lieutenant? Well, infuriated, he was, that his cap'n should be gettin' off that lightly after causin' the deaths of so many of his mates an' the girl. An eye-for-an-eye man, that lieutenant was, and he resigned his commission on the spot. Headed off to the Caribbean to make his fortune, it was said, and he never set foot in England again."
Ana shook her head, watching Jack as he stood swaying in front of the ship's wheel. "I just can't believe. . . ."
"Do you think Jack could have accomplished this much if he were really as daft as he pretends to be?" Josh frowned. "It changed Jack, what happened, sickened him - made him want to be as far from that young lieutenant and the injustice of that young lieutenant's service as he could possibly get."
They watched as Jack paced over to where the skylight in the captain's cabin broached the upper deck. He stood staring at it for endless moments, then silently resumed his lonely vigil at the wheel.
Josh sighed. "But he's still a good man, Ana, and always will be."
----------------------------------
Author:
sheila_snow
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack Sparrow/Will Turner
Warnings: A/U, Angst, Non-Con, Gratuitous Will Turner Abuse
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns 'em -- he just doesn't know how to treat 'em right. I'm not treating them very nice either, but I'm most certainly not making any money from this!
Summary: Anamaria is determined to get to the bottom of things, and Joshamee Gibbs had better not stand in her way.
A/N: After reviewing my previous entries, I find to my horror that I haven't even mentioned the two people who have made this whole story possible. First is
katma, who besides being a fabulous beta reader, has also been my cheerleader and coach from the start of this fic . . . quite some time ago! My effusive thanks also to
anobtuselife, who got me into the LiveJournal community, kickstarted me into reviving this story and is also proving very good at finding my plot holes, LOL! Any mistakes remaining are all mine, because I don't know when to stop tinkering with it. Thanks so much, ladies!
Chapter Fourteen
It was nearly sunset, but the bright red-orange tendrils were just beginning to paint the few clouds hovering near the horizon. Joshamee Gibbs hummed softly to himself as he sat crosslegged in his own private domain - the little speck of deck just aft of the bowsprit.
He felt more in tune with the ship here than he did on the quarterdeck, maybe because the quarterdeck was Jack's domain . . . and the Pearl was Jack's ship after all.
But to Josh the ship simply felt more alive here. She lifted her elegant nose to the rolling waves as if daring them to try to vanquish her - her bowsprit dipping and swaying like a taunting sword. When Josh closed his eyes, the foaming water sloughing off her wooden flanks sounded almost like the trilling laughter of a feisty lass he had once known a long time ago.
Josh sighed. A long time ago indeed.
He had never felt the encroaching years as much as he had these last weeks. Jack's moodiness and depression had affected everyone on board, but Josh had thought things would return to normal when the cap'n brought the young blacksmith back on board.
Taking a long drink from the flask that was never far from his side, Josh sighed again. He should have known better. There was very little about Jack Sparrow that was "normal," even before he'd become a pirate.
Oh, Josh knew now what Jack's problem was - at least, a part of it.
He hadn't made the connection before, hadn't even wanted to remember that wretched time so many years ago. But one lonely midwatch last week, he and the new hand, Tom Smythers, had got to talking. He had innocently asked the old tar how he had met Jack, and when Tom had recounted his meeting with Jack at "The Severed Arms," something clicked in Josh's mind and the old memories had come flooding back.
His jaw working side-to-side in his frustration, Josh mentally kicked himself for not coming to the realization sooner. He should have known there was only one human being who could rattle Jack that effectively. Not even Barbossa, his betrayal and the subsequent loss of the Pearl affected Jack as much as the return of his old nemesis had.
Josh therefore hadn't been surprised at young William's condition when he and Jack finally returned to the Pearl. Tomlinson's vile cruelty was well known to every man-jack in the fleet long before the man's court martial and eventual imprisonment.
What Josh hadn't expected was Jack's behavior since their return.
After boarding the Pearl, Jack had turned to assist an obviously weakened Will off the boarding ladder and over the gunnel, but the lad had pulled back violently from the supporting hands on his waist. Josh didn't know what words the obviously enraged young blacksmith had said to Jack, but their effect was immediate.
Jack had jerked his hands back and held them tight to his sides, his swarthy face going almost impossibly pale. He had nodded once, sharply, then had turned and led the way for Will to the captain's cabin - his cabin. Jack hadn't looked back, so he hadn't seen the anger drain visibly from Will's face and posture - hadn't noticed the boy's eyes change to reveal a depth of sadness and loneliness that it might make a grown man weep to see 'em.
No, Jack hadn't seen. Hadn't even looked the boy in the eyes since then, as far as Josh could tell. Damned fool he be, too.
But Jack was visibly unhappy - a dark, brooding presence haunting the quarterdeck - and an unhappy captain led to an unhappy ship. Why, it was enough to make a man long for the quiet company of pigs, regardless of their smell.
At least the pigs didn't brood.
Sighing, he pulled a piece of half-completed scrimshaw from his coat. Might as well do something useful. Removing his knife from its sheath, he held the blade up to the sky and ran his thumb carefully along its length to check the sharpness.
"Should have known I'd find ye lazin' about up here."
Josh lurched forward at the loud, unexpected voice and discovered to his dismay that the knife he held was quite sharp indeed. "Damn you to the seven hells, woman!" He put his lacerated thumb to his mouth and tried to stem the tide of blood. "What you think you're about, sneakin' up on a man like that?"
Anamaria merely looked down at him, arms crossed, her habitual frown firmly in place.
Damnable, contrary female. "I've said time an' again that it be bad luck havin' a woman on board, and this just be more proof of it, mark my words!" Josh energetically flourished his bleeding thumb at her face.
Anamaria smiled sweetly at him. "Joshamee. . . ."
Josh stuck his thumb back in his mouth and winced. He knew that particular tone of voice . . . and knew it didn't bode well for one Joshamee Gibbs.
"I was wonderin'," she said. "What happened to the last ship ye were on . . . before ye came to Tortuga?"
"And why in heaven's name would you want to be knowin' that?"
Anamaria smiled again. "Oh, no reason, just curious."
He narrowed his eyes. When Anamaria smiled, it was usually wise to get as far away from her as possible. Unfortunately, that was kind of difficult while they were both still shipboard . . . and in the middle of the Caribbean. He said warily, "She was a rumrunner, ambushed by a Navy frigate and sunk."
"And the one before that?"
"Ran onto a reef durin' a storm."
"And. . .?"
He scowled. "She sank."
"And the one before that?"
Josh glowered at her. "I'm still likin' to know where you be goin' with this."
"Why, you know us women, Mr. Gibbs, always wantin' to know things we shouldn't."
Josh snorted. "That be the simple truth. Well, if you must know - the cook fell asleep in the galley with a bottle of rum in his hand."
Anamaria raised an eyebrow.
"The rum tipped over."
She raised the eyebrow a little higher.
"The rum fell into the galley stove, and the blasted ship caught fire," Josh said in exasperation.
There was an amused snort from Anamaria. "And she sank."
"Well, of course, she sank! Most ships on fire are goin' to sink. This one burned to the waterline, capsized and then sank!"
Anamaria smiled. "And just how many women did ye have on board those three ships?"
Josh snorted. "Why, none, of course. It's bad luck. . . ." He stopped short as the realization hit.
"It seems to me, Joshamee Gibbs, that it be more bad luck not to have a woman aboard ship." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Mebbe you ought to be thinkin' on what else might be causin' the bad luck, hmmm?"
"Now you see here, Missy, it ain't good to be makin' fun of sailors' traditions. Mr. Cotton over there has been sailin' with me for nigh on ten years now, and he'll tell you. . . ."
He was interrupted by a loud squawk from the foremast. "Dead men tell no tales!"
Josh paused and gave Mr. Cotton's parrot a long, intent stare before he finally turned to face Anamaria.
Ana cocked her head thoughtfully and then shrugged. "Could be," she said.
"How do we goes about testin' it?"
Anamaria shrugged again. "My ma had a tasty recipe for parrot ala orange. Good for the scurvy, she said."
Josh glanced up at the foremast again, eyeing the brightly colored bird as it strutted arrogantly up and down the foresail yardarm. He had never really liked the parrot anyway - and it probably was bad luck.
Maybe it was a female parrot. . . ?
"Worth a try, methinks," Josh finally said aloud.
Anamaria frowned, her mood obviously darkening as she shifted her gaze to the captain's cabin. "Mebbe I could get Will to eat that."
"The lad be no better, I take it?"
"No." With all her faults, Anamaria could say more with one word than most men could get across in a day. That word practically oozed frustration and worry.
Josh grunted. "It'd be a darn shame, it would, Jack spendin' all that time and trouble to rescue the boy, just to have 'im up and die on 'im."
Anamaria eyed him with a thoughtful expression on her face. "I told Jack we ought to be takin' him back to Port Royal."
"Hah! And I'm sure he took to that idea like a fish to water."
"He was a mite disagreeable 'bout it, aye."
Josh lowered his voice. "Now, Missy, you be knowin' Jack a mighty long time as well. The cap'n ain't about to give up somethin' that he considers to be his. Not without a fight."
Anamaria glared at him. "And if 'e loses this fight?"
"Then we'd best be sure there's enough rum on board to fill the Caribbean, 'cause that's what it'll take, lass. And more, besides."
"But the boy needs care, Joshamee Gibbs, ye knows it as much as I!"
"Aye, that I do know." Josh shook his head sadly. "But the lad had the misfortune to come between two men who hate each other as much as any two men can. Jack won't be takin' him back to Port Royal, mark my words. He won't be takin' a chance on losin' young Will again."
Anamaria sat down abruptly next to him, crossed her legs and leaned forward intently. "Tell me about him - this man Jack hates so much that it's obviously addled his already addled wits."
"I think that's somethin' you should be askin' Jack."
She laughed, sharp and loud. "And ye think he'd tell me?"
Josh snorted. "Hell no, woman."
Anamaria leaned in closer. "Now listen here. I be the one takin' care of that boy, what with Cap'n Jack avoidin' him like he's got the Black Death, so I have a rights to know."
Taking a nervous swig from his flask, Josh wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked around. "That be a part of Jack's life he don't take kindly to tellin'."
Anamaria threw her hands in the air and rolled her eyes heavenward. "That's why I'm askin' ye, man."
Josh hated when a female was right. It just didn't seem natural. "You're goin' to be the death of me yet, woman - with or without that blasted parrot, mark my words!"
Anamaria smiled sweetly. "But ye'll be goin' with a clean conscience, that ye will."
"Harumph. I'll tell you part of it, and more than that you don't need to know!" Josh took another restorative swig from his flask, looking past Anamaria to the slowly darkening sea. "When I was much younger and more foolish than I am now, I ran afoul of a press gang while quenchin' my thirst at a tavern in Portsmouth."
Anamaria rested her chin in her hand. "A tavern? Who would've guessed?"
"Watch your mouth, woman." He glared at her, but Anamaria merely batted her eyelashes at him coquettishly.
That only managed to make Josh even more wary. He wondered idly why the woman reminded him so much of a shark . . . when a shark didn't even have eyelashes.
Josh decided he'd best think on that later.
He cleared his throat. "As I was sayin', not only did I suddenly find myself an involuntary guest of the Navy, but I had the misfortune of being pressed by the crew of one Cap'n Girard Tomlinson, a highborn aristocrat - some even said a distant relative of the King himself. Now, he was a savvy cap'n, knew how to smoke the Frenchies right out of their safe harbors, he did, but a harsher and more cruel man had never sailed the seven seas." He shook his head sadly. "The man had no conscience, it was said, and he'd make your life a livin' hell if you crossed him."
"Sounds like 'e should've been a pirate."
Josh looked at her silently for a few moments. "Oh, but he was, lass, that he was."
Anamaria sat back and crossed her arms. "Now I knows ye be just spinnin' a yarn, Joshamee. A highborn King's man, a pirate?"
Josh swallowed nervously, his eyes glancing briefly toward the stern. "Sometimes it don't matter what you're born into, but what you makes of your life. Cap'n Tomlinson had the soul of a pirate right enough, but as evil and twisted as Barbossa, he was." He swallowed again. "Now you knows that in the King's Navy, the prize money for a captured ship is divided between the cap'n and the crew, right?"
"Aye," she said, the disgust evident in her voice. "With the cap'n receivin' a full quarter of the swag instead of equal shares, as it should be."
"Well, that may be the case with most, but Cap'n Tomlinson now, he felt he ought to be keepin' all that prize money for himself."
Anamaria narrowed her eyes, but stayed silent.
"The cap'n would send his prizes off with strict orders to follow a set course back to England, but them poor souls who made up the prize crew never saw her shores again. You see, Tomlinson had another ship set to intercept the prize before it could make harbor. Pirates they were, wicked pirates . . . mannin' an outsized three-masted tops'l schooner."
Anamaria gasped.
Josh nodded his head sharply. "Aye, lass, I think you be seein' the connection now. The shipyard that laid her huge keel never made another like her."
He raised his eyes toward the rigging, absentmindedly noting that the shrouds were set up and the sails filling properly before he continued. "The prize crew were far too few to fight off a fully manned and armed pirate vessel. So, Tomlinson's pirates took the prize, sailed it back to France and sold the ship and any cargo back to them. The good cap'n then kept all the money from the prize, minus the pittance he gave his pirate crew, and no one was the wiser."
Josh's voice lowered then, as cold as a winter's fog. "Aye, no one was the wiser . . . 'cause he had every man-jack of the prize crew killed. In cold blood."
Anamaria looked aghast. "He had his own crewmen killed?"
"Oh, aye," Josh confirmed. "Tomlinson didn't have every prize intercepted, of course - that would have been far too suspicious - but he still managed to make himself mighty wealthy with this scheme, he did. That is, until the day that one of the prize crew was actually lucky enough to survive."
Anamaria snorted. "Bein' lucky won't get ye far - Jack always says ye have to make your own luck."
Josh was silent for a few moments. He feared Jack had only recently learned that luck - no matter how you came about it - wasn't always enough.
"A young lieutenant he was," Josh continued, "fresh from the midshipman's berth and given his first command as master of a prize crew. It was a merchant vessel we had taken with hardly a shot fired - a fine, stout ship, with the master's wife and thirteen year old daughter aboard. This young lieutenant of ours spoke a little of the Frenchie's tongue, and that was why he'd been put in charge of its prize crew."
Josh stopped, looking astern again, seemingly lost in thought as he watched the solitary figure on the quarterdeck pacing tirelessly back and forth.
Anamaria followed his gaze and gasped. "Jack?" Her voice was pitched even higher than normal in her disbelief. "Oh, now ye be really talkin' daft, Joshamee Gibbs."
Upending the flask once more, Josh frowned when he discovered it was empty. He sighed, deciding to simply ignore her. "I think it more likely this young lieutenant was too bright for his own good and was beginnin' to suspect somethin' amiss with our good cap'n . . . so the cap'n had decided to be rid of him. But bein' the resourceful lad he was, the lieutenant managed to escape the pirates, with the young French lass besides, and sailed a dinghy 'cross the open ocean back to where our ship was patrollin'."
"A dinghy, an' not sea turtles?" Ana asked sarcastically.
Josh glowered at her, tossing his empty flask aside. "Do you want to hear the tale, or don't you?"
Anamaria made a flurrying motion with her hands.
Not a bad imitation of Jack, Josh thought absently. "Now, the lass was in a bad way by the time we came across them, and Cap'n Tomlinson offered his cabin for her to recover. Well, it seems the young lieutenant had gone for'ard to the captain's cabin to ask him about some disquietin' things he'd heard from the pirate crew. He heard the girl scream, and came through the door just in time to watch Tomlinson slit the girl's throat from ear to ear."
Anamaria picked at a loose thread in her vest, looking up at Josh finally. "Ye're not just spinnin' a yarn, are ye?"
"No, lass, I'm not. The young lieutenant - along with his good friend, Bill Turner - led a mutiny that ended in the court martial of the cap'n. With the lieutenant's testimony and the records of all the ill-gotten gains, Cap'n Tomlinson was convicted of both treason and murder. But his social rank saved him from the hangman's noose, and he was sentenced instead to life imprisonment."
Anamaria merely watched him, uncharacteristically subdued.
"That young lieutenant? Well, infuriated, he was, that his cap'n should be gettin' off that lightly after causin' the deaths of so many of his mates an' the girl. An eye-for-an-eye man, that lieutenant was, and he resigned his commission on the spot. Headed off to the Caribbean to make his fortune, it was said, and he never set foot in England again."
Ana shook her head, watching Jack as he stood swaying in front of the ship's wheel. "I just can't believe. . . ."
"Do you think Jack could have accomplished this much if he were really as daft as he pretends to be?" Josh frowned. "It changed Jack, what happened, sickened him - made him want to be as far from that young lieutenant and the injustice of that young lieutenant's service as he could possibly get."
They watched as Jack paced over to where the skylight in the captain's cabin broached the upper deck. He stood staring at it for endless moments, then silently resumed his lonely vigil at the wheel.
Josh sighed. "But he's still a good man, Ana, and always will be."
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