The Great Escape - Chapter 5
Title: The Great Escape
Chapter: Chapter 5 - The Law of the Sea
Author: stealmybike
Pairing: Young Teague, Samhra (Jack's mum), Sao Feng, previous Brethren Court Pirate Lords, young Jack Sparrow (eventually).
Rating: T for adult content and violence.
Summary: A woman deeply oppressed by her culture, chooses the path of freedom. Unwilling to let go of the hope that her Songsmith would return to her, she is finally set free to live a life on the run, alongside the Pirate Lord of Madagascar.
A/N: I created this tale after writing a one-shot for a collaboration entitled Mother's of the Caribbean some years ago. I had some readers pushing me to expand on the story, so here's the end result! I'd like to thank madam_pudifoot for helping me through the first few chapters of this :o)
Prelude: MoTC: Jack Sparrow's Mum
Chapter 1: The Return
Chapter 2: The Rogue
Chapter 3: The Treasure
Chapter 4: The Empress
~o~
Chapter 5: The Law of the Sea
~o~
Within the hour, the Misty Lady altered its course toward the junk,and by that time, most of the crew was on the main deck in clusters, and of course, numerous surmises of the Empress' intentions danced on the tongues of every man aboard.
"Silence, ya bloody chambermaids," Bloodbath bellowed, like perfectly timed gunfire. "Silence! Fore and aft!"
To Samhra's great surprise, a surge of excitement swept through her. She simply couldn't take her eyes off of the vessel in the distance. As her gaze hardened, she found herself forcefully propelled forward by the crowd, and following closely behind Bloodbath as Teague parted the masses in front of them with the most terrifying glare.
For twenty or so minutes, the Lady battled against the wind and tide of the Arabian Sea. A great squall came on, causing them to lose sight of the Asian vessel, but all were anxiously on the look-out.
Teague gained the quarterdeck in three powerful strides, grabbing the spyglass from his first mate; he pointed it toward the dark plume of smoke rising from the distant ship. Her main mast was shattered and lying over the rail and the weight of her sails and rigging were pulling the ship toward the water. Half her underbelly glistened in the midday sun and the sea broke over her with great clouds of foam.
With the aid of his telescope, Teague watched as the crew's desperate attempt to pull the top portion of the mast back on board before it capsized the vessel. It truly was a frantic and dangerous struggle with the deck tilted so sharply. Several men were already overboard, trying to keep their heads above water.
"Trouble ahead?" Bloodbath enquired quietly, noticing Teague couldn't quite meet his gaze.
Not yet, he thought, with eyes fixated upon the ground. Instinctively, his body tightened only a fraction - senses sharpened. "Full canvas," he ordered.
"To stations!" Bloodbath ordered across the deck, without a moment's thought.
"Full canvas!" roared the crew in unison, as they scurried among the rigging, untying the Lady's elegant, white sails. The canvas snapped before capturing the thriving gales of the Trade Winds.
Weapons were pulled from the crates they were stored in, and the crew leaned over the rails to pull up the hatches covering the cannon portals. Each man knew his duties well.
Samhra stood by, dumbfounded. It was as if she were enchanted, as if she had no control over herself, as if an unknown force was determined to make her a part of the dangerous scene unfolding before her. From what she could construe, the Empress was in no condition to engage them.
For a time, Samhra kept her eyes fixed on the back of Teague's neck, terrified of losing him in the commotion. As the crowd shifted in front of her, blocking her view, she sidestepped a few men and pushed forward, searching for her Songsmith. But, she was lost in mere moments among the mob of purposeful sailors. It wasn't until she collided into Reynolds' hard enough to knock a gasp out of her lungs that she realized she shouldn't dare move any further.
"That's two brave, yet foolish, things you've done today," Reynolds scolded, absorbing the impact as if she were a butterfly.
She had been so entranced that she wasn't sure where she was. Her breath had come in rapid gasps. "I'm sorry-"
"Don't. There's no need to fret. Just do me a favor, lass - stay with me. Capn's orders." The harshness of his tone made her pause. Reynolds may have known that the ship wasn't in jeopardy, but she didn't. In truth, he had told her nothing to truly reassure her that she had no reason to fear, whether she was below decks or dangling on a rope attached to the ship's main mast.
As the crippled ship drew near; the scent of smoke from the damaged ship grazed their nostrils with the upwind. Lifting the spyglass once more, Teague ran his gaze along the tilting deck of the ship, searching for a flag or some sort of identifying marker among the panicked crew. If she were occupied by the British, he would risk a great deal coming to her aid.
At a hundred yards, all uncertainty and doubt was destined, in this case, to be of very short continuance. With a final glance through the spyglass, Teague spotted his marker - an ornate cloth strewn across the main deck. Conditions on the ship were so desperate; no one had time to raise the flag. He scanned the length of the ship, identifying the most critical damage, and dropped the telescope, no longer needing it.
Many a pirate wouldn't approach another ship in distress, but he was taught differently. He wouldn't stand idle while its crew went to a watery grave; saving it was the law of the sea. Men had crippled the ship, not fate.
His own mood darkened with the knowledge that his brethren were battling to survive. Looking up, he checked the sails to ensure that every inch of canvas was being put to use.
They weren't going fast enough and frustration built inside of him. The expanse of water between the Empress and the Lady looked twice the distance by then.
"Stand by with boarding ropes!" Teague sent a call down to the deck, emotion lacing his normally calm, controlled voice. More than one head turned to cast an eye toward him.
His men surged to the port side of the ship, carrying large hooks attached to thick hemp rope lines. With practiced hands, they swung the heavy hooks in widening circles before letting them fly over the rail, arching across the space between the two ships and over the higher rail of the Empress.
As the hooks caught, Teague's men heaved the lines taunt, joining the effort himself, his arms straining to pull the other ship back from capsizing. It was their strength against the pull of Poseidon himself.
The men could hear the frantic chipping sound of an ax being wielded on the broken mast, but the Lady lent her weight to the struggle, keeping the Empress from leaning too far to recover.
A cheer went up from the Empress' crew when the main mast fell into the ocean. It took sails and rigging along with it, but the crew had cut them free. Her hull crashed toward the surface of the ocean, sending up a cascade of water. Consequently, it crashed along the men holding the ropes on the Lady, and both ships rocked violently before settling back into a gentle roll. The lines holding the ships together were pulled tight.
Teague and Bloodbath boarded the junk ship in one leap, with many of the crew following. The fire had sizzled out when the ship rightened herself, and only steam rose from the front of the vessel by then. The scent of smoke was still thick, causing the men on deck to cough, and filled their eyes red with irritation.
"Liang Dao! Captain Liang Dao!" Teague shouted through the mass of confusion upon the Empress' main deck. Splintered wood lay on polished boards. Several men were at the far rail, attempting to pull their comrades up from the sea. Black powder coated every surface, a testimony to the battle the crew waged to defend themselves.
"They took the captain!" yelled a soot-darkened crewman as he reached up to tug on his hat out of habit, but there was nothing left on his head.
"Who?" Teague tried to control the volume of his voice, but his anger sent the question out in a bellow.
"The bastard British." Men cursed oaths around them, faces reflecting their fury.
Teague's jaw clenched; his rage burning hotter than the Caribbean sun. Grasping at the Asian man's vest, he shook him furiously. "Liang Dao is a Pirate Lord-"
"Was! Liang Dao was a Pirate Lord… and he was my brother!" the young man cried, cutting off Teague's words with his own bite of vehemence.
With shaking fingers, he fumbled with a small object that hung from a rope around his neck. And as he held the jade knot before him, the young man regained a new sense of purpose. "And now I am captain."
~o~
The sun was dipping under the horizon and gentle calm rippled over the sea. The swell had driven the Misty Lady so rapidly toward shore that they could see the breakers falling over, rumbling like thunder.
An ominous quiet settled over the great cabin. There were a dozen sailors, all armed, and all looking to their leaders. Something had to happen.
Samhra looked onto the gathering from the safety of her nest. Something loomed up at her side and pushed against her leg. She flinched and stopped moving, then relaxed. You again? She thought, beaming as she picked him up and buried her nose in his soft fur. Rogue squirmed in delight, burrowing deeper into her neck. She took pleasure in his happiness and held him close to her breast, like an infant.
Pressing her cheek against the door frame, Samhra scanned the Asian captain's traditional garb. He appeared to exemplify the traditional mold of a young, handsome, reckless Chinese male - a swash-buckling Malay sailor.
Beneath all the soot, on his face, he wore a small mustache that complimented the dark, plaited ponytail. His dark robes were layered with a shoulder guard and an armor-plated belt inset with precious stones, unknown to her. It was easy to think of him as a captain as he wore the mantle of command naturally and capably, as If he had been born to it. Whoever else the young man may have been didn't matter, his purpose was clear and he was a man worthy of Teague's respect - worthy of his loyalty.
As the young man endeavored to establish his presence, it became apparent that the caliber of Teague's confidence was unbounded - a man secure in his surroundings. The candlelight tinted his ruffled dark hair a deep, smoldering red. "What was your business here…?"
"Sao Feng," the man answered. "I am not at liberty to speak."
"Where have they taken Liang Dao?" he pressed on to more important matters.
"Cannot say," the young man sputtered. "They sailed to the north."
"Got a whole lot of nothin' to say for yourself then, Captain Feng?" Bloodbath retorted sarcastically.
Teague drew in a long, deep breath, and nodded. It was a futile effort. The Company had crippled the ship in hopes of sinking her. He battled the urge to give chase immediately, and squashing that impulse took every bit of discipline he owned.
He could not leave Liang Dao's crew at the mercy of the sea. One good squall and the Empress would sink. It would take every man on both ships to keep her afloat.
"You're unable to sail under your own power," Teague finally said, rising from his chair. "Bloodbath shall take the helm of the Empress and the Lady will tow it to port."
"Unacceptable!" Sao Feng exclaimed. "I am captain! Only I shall stand at the helm." He emphasized his last point by pounding his fist on the table.
When he spoke again his voice was low, and yet it seemed to fill the entire space of the room. "And you will, with extra hands," he assured, understanding of the young captain's resistance. "There'll be no arguin' the point."
"Just what I need - a ruddy dinghy that can barely stay afloat," Bloodbath muttered, sneering at the foreign crew, "and a crew that can't speak a lick of 'nglish."
Teague's gaze moved from Sao Feng to Bloodbath. More conversation passed between them in that single look than any words or mind-speak imaginable. His look could have melted an iceberg. Bloodbath winced and muttered, "Bloody pirates - always takin' the fun out of things…"
Pirates? A sudden chill skidded up Samhra's spine.
Pirates were the enemy, according to what she had been taught - scoundrels and thieves who stole from her people without hesitation. For years, pirates from neighboring Christian nations believed that raiding Muslim and Hindu vessels was not a real crime - and was actually very profitable. Horrible memories of raids and violence began to flood her mind. A single tear worked its way down her face as she rocked Rogue back and forth.
Rogue curved his neck around, nudging Samhra out of her daze and licking her in his effort to comfort her. Summoning up her strength once more, she continued to look on as the men dispersed from the cabin, all with the exception of Teague.
Bracing a hand on the low overhang, he leaned his head against his bicep until the doors finally closed behind him with an ominous thud. The waves swelled in the wake of the ship yet he stood as still as a statue. She noted that his gaze drifted to the floor and his jaw flexed. She didn't know what to say or feel. She held Rogue a bit tighter. A thousand emotions whirled through her - confusion, disappointment, fear.
Her Songsmith wasn't what she'd thought him to be. Maybe that was her own fault. She had built him up into a legend no man could possibly compete with.
Even though she had dreamed and fantasized of his return to her, she'd never really considered him one of them - not a pirate - anything but that.
The notion truly didn't make sense to her. How could a man capable of such kindness also be capable of such ruthlessness. He didn't have to come back to save her life. He could have killed Sao Feng's crew, but he didn't. He could have turned his back on the Empress, but again, he didn't.
Samhra looked down at Rogue, who peered back at her with sad, brown eyes, and saw the same thing: a great and loving heart. Her own life, past and present, was difficult, a litany of abuse, bad luck and hard times. But like Teague, she had made a choice, and like him, she could easily have been bitter and resentful. Instead, however battered, she had chosen to free herself from such a life.
Rogue looked to her, worried. Could a dog look worried? She thought, yawning. The pup yawned and flicked his tongue.
"I suppose that's enough for one night, then?" She heard a quick, high whine, and flapping ears.
Apparently, this was no ordinary dog.
~o~
Chapter: Chapter 5 - The Law of the Sea
Author: stealmybike
Pairing: Young Teague, Samhra (Jack's mum), Sao Feng, previous Brethren Court Pirate Lords, young Jack Sparrow (eventually).
Rating: T for adult content and violence.
Summary: A woman deeply oppressed by her culture, chooses the path of freedom. Unwilling to let go of the hope that her Songsmith would return to her, she is finally set free to live a life on the run, alongside the Pirate Lord of Madagascar.
A/N: I created this tale after writing a one-shot for a collaboration entitled Mother's of the Caribbean some years ago. I had some readers pushing me to expand on the story, so here's the end result! I'd like to thank madam_pudifoot for helping me through the first few chapters of this :o)
Prelude: MoTC: Jack Sparrow's Mum
Chapter 1: The Return
Chapter 2: The Rogue
Chapter 3: The Treasure
Chapter 4: The Empress
~o~
Chapter 5: The Law of the Sea
~o~
Within the hour, the Misty Lady altered its course toward the junk,and by that time, most of the crew was on the main deck in clusters, and of course, numerous surmises of the Empress' intentions danced on the tongues of every man aboard.
"Silence, ya bloody chambermaids," Bloodbath bellowed, like perfectly timed gunfire. "Silence! Fore and aft!"
To Samhra's great surprise, a surge of excitement swept through her. She simply couldn't take her eyes off of the vessel in the distance. As her gaze hardened, she found herself forcefully propelled forward by the crowd, and following closely behind Bloodbath as Teague parted the masses in front of them with the most terrifying glare.
For twenty or so minutes, the Lady battled against the wind and tide of the Arabian Sea. A great squall came on, causing them to lose sight of the Asian vessel, but all were anxiously on the look-out.
Teague gained the quarterdeck in three powerful strides, grabbing the spyglass from his first mate; he pointed it toward the dark plume of smoke rising from the distant ship. Her main mast was shattered and lying over the rail and the weight of her sails and rigging were pulling the ship toward the water. Half her underbelly glistened in the midday sun and the sea broke over her with great clouds of foam.
With the aid of his telescope, Teague watched as the crew's desperate attempt to pull the top portion of the mast back on board before it capsized the vessel. It truly was a frantic and dangerous struggle with the deck tilted so sharply. Several men were already overboard, trying to keep their heads above water.
"Trouble ahead?" Bloodbath enquired quietly, noticing Teague couldn't quite meet his gaze.
Not yet, he thought, with eyes fixated upon the ground. Instinctively, his body tightened only a fraction - senses sharpened. "Full canvas," he ordered.
"To stations!" Bloodbath ordered across the deck, without a moment's thought.
"Full canvas!" roared the crew in unison, as they scurried among the rigging, untying the Lady's elegant, white sails. The canvas snapped before capturing the thriving gales of the Trade Winds.
Weapons were pulled from the crates they were stored in, and the crew leaned over the rails to pull up the hatches covering the cannon portals. Each man knew his duties well.
Samhra stood by, dumbfounded. It was as if she were enchanted, as if she had no control over herself, as if an unknown force was determined to make her a part of the dangerous scene unfolding before her. From what she could construe, the Empress was in no condition to engage them.
For a time, Samhra kept her eyes fixed on the back of Teague's neck, terrified of losing him in the commotion. As the crowd shifted in front of her, blocking her view, she sidestepped a few men and pushed forward, searching for her Songsmith. But, she was lost in mere moments among the mob of purposeful sailors. It wasn't until she collided into Reynolds' hard enough to knock a gasp out of her lungs that she realized she shouldn't dare move any further.
"That's two brave, yet foolish, things you've done today," Reynolds scolded, absorbing the impact as if she were a butterfly.
She had been so entranced that she wasn't sure where she was. Her breath had come in rapid gasps. "I'm sorry-"
"Don't. There's no need to fret. Just do me a favor, lass - stay with me. Capn's orders." The harshness of his tone made her pause. Reynolds may have known that the ship wasn't in jeopardy, but she didn't. In truth, he had told her nothing to truly reassure her that she had no reason to fear, whether she was below decks or dangling on a rope attached to the ship's main mast.
As the crippled ship drew near; the scent of smoke from the damaged ship grazed their nostrils with the upwind. Lifting the spyglass once more, Teague ran his gaze along the tilting deck of the ship, searching for a flag or some sort of identifying marker among the panicked crew. If she were occupied by the British, he would risk a great deal coming to her aid.
At a hundred yards, all uncertainty and doubt was destined, in this case, to be of very short continuance. With a final glance through the spyglass, Teague spotted his marker - an ornate cloth strewn across the main deck. Conditions on the ship were so desperate; no one had time to raise the flag. He scanned the length of the ship, identifying the most critical damage, and dropped the telescope, no longer needing it.
Many a pirate wouldn't approach another ship in distress, but he was taught differently. He wouldn't stand idle while its crew went to a watery grave; saving it was the law of the sea. Men had crippled the ship, not fate.
His own mood darkened with the knowledge that his brethren were battling to survive. Looking up, he checked the sails to ensure that every inch of canvas was being put to use.
They weren't going fast enough and frustration built inside of him. The expanse of water between the Empress and the Lady looked twice the distance by then.
"Stand by with boarding ropes!" Teague sent a call down to the deck, emotion lacing his normally calm, controlled voice. More than one head turned to cast an eye toward him.
His men surged to the port side of the ship, carrying large hooks attached to thick hemp rope lines. With practiced hands, they swung the heavy hooks in widening circles before letting them fly over the rail, arching across the space between the two ships and over the higher rail of the Empress.
As the hooks caught, Teague's men heaved the lines taunt, joining the effort himself, his arms straining to pull the other ship back from capsizing. It was their strength against the pull of Poseidon himself.
The men could hear the frantic chipping sound of an ax being wielded on the broken mast, but the Lady lent her weight to the struggle, keeping the Empress from leaning too far to recover.
A cheer went up from the Empress' crew when the main mast fell into the ocean. It took sails and rigging along with it, but the crew had cut them free. Her hull crashed toward the surface of the ocean, sending up a cascade of water. Consequently, it crashed along the men holding the ropes on the Lady, and both ships rocked violently before settling back into a gentle roll. The lines holding the ships together were pulled tight.
Teague and Bloodbath boarded the junk ship in one leap, with many of the crew following. The fire had sizzled out when the ship rightened herself, and only steam rose from the front of the vessel by then. The scent of smoke was still thick, causing the men on deck to cough, and filled their eyes red with irritation.
"Liang Dao! Captain Liang Dao!" Teague shouted through the mass of confusion upon the Empress' main deck. Splintered wood lay on polished boards. Several men were at the far rail, attempting to pull their comrades up from the sea. Black powder coated every surface, a testimony to the battle the crew waged to defend themselves.
"They took the captain!" yelled a soot-darkened crewman as he reached up to tug on his hat out of habit, but there was nothing left on his head.
"Who?" Teague tried to control the volume of his voice, but his anger sent the question out in a bellow.
"The bastard British." Men cursed oaths around them, faces reflecting their fury.
Teague's jaw clenched; his rage burning hotter than the Caribbean sun. Grasping at the Asian man's vest, he shook him furiously. "Liang Dao is a Pirate Lord-"
"Was! Liang Dao was a Pirate Lord… and he was my brother!" the young man cried, cutting off Teague's words with his own bite of vehemence.
With shaking fingers, he fumbled with a small object that hung from a rope around his neck. And as he held the jade knot before him, the young man regained a new sense of purpose. "And now I am captain."
~o~
The sun was dipping under the horizon and gentle calm rippled over the sea. The swell had driven the Misty Lady so rapidly toward shore that they could see the breakers falling over, rumbling like thunder.
An ominous quiet settled over the great cabin. There were a dozen sailors, all armed, and all looking to their leaders. Something had to happen.
Samhra looked onto the gathering from the safety of her nest. Something loomed up at her side and pushed against her leg. She flinched and stopped moving, then relaxed. You again? She thought, beaming as she picked him up and buried her nose in his soft fur. Rogue squirmed in delight, burrowing deeper into her neck. She took pleasure in his happiness and held him close to her breast, like an infant.
Pressing her cheek against the door frame, Samhra scanned the Asian captain's traditional garb. He appeared to exemplify the traditional mold of a young, handsome, reckless Chinese male - a swash-buckling Malay sailor.
Beneath all the soot, on his face, he wore a small mustache that complimented the dark, plaited ponytail. His dark robes were layered with a shoulder guard and an armor-plated belt inset with precious stones, unknown to her. It was easy to think of him as a captain as he wore the mantle of command naturally and capably, as If he had been born to it. Whoever else the young man may have been didn't matter, his purpose was clear and he was a man worthy of Teague's respect - worthy of his loyalty.
As the young man endeavored to establish his presence, it became apparent that the caliber of Teague's confidence was unbounded - a man secure in his surroundings. The candlelight tinted his ruffled dark hair a deep, smoldering red. "What was your business here…?"
"Sao Feng," the man answered. "I am not at liberty to speak."
"Where have they taken Liang Dao?" he pressed on to more important matters.
"Cannot say," the young man sputtered. "They sailed to the north."
"Got a whole lot of nothin' to say for yourself then, Captain Feng?" Bloodbath retorted sarcastically.
Teague drew in a long, deep breath, and nodded. It was a futile effort. The Company had crippled the ship in hopes of sinking her. He battled the urge to give chase immediately, and squashing that impulse took every bit of discipline he owned.
He could not leave Liang Dao's crew at the mercy of the sea. One good squall and the Empress would sink. It would take every man on both ships to keep her afloat.
"You're unable to sail under your own power," Teague finally said, rising from his chair. "Bloodbath shall take the helm of the Empress and the Lady will tow it to port."
"Unacceptable!" Sao Feng exclaimed. "I am captain! Only I shall stand at the helm." He emphasized his last point by pounding his fist on the table.
When he spoke again his voice was low, and yet it seemed to fill the entire space of the room. "And you will, with extra hands," he assured, understanding of the young captain's resistance. "There'll be no arguin' the point."
"Just what I need - a ruddy dinghy that can barely stay afloat," Bloodbath muttered, sneering at the foreign crew, "and a crew that can't speak a lick of 'nglish."
Teague's gaze moved from Sao Feng to Bloodbath. More conversation passed between them in that single look than any words or mind-speak imaginable. His look could have melted an iceberg. Bloodbath winced and muttered, "Bloody pirates - always takin' the fun out of things…"
Pirates? A sudden chill skidded up Samhra's spine.
Pirates were the enemy, according to what she had been taught - scoundrels and thieves who stole from her people without hesitation. For years, pirates from neighboring Christian nations believed that raiding Muslim and Hindu vessels was not a real crime - and was actually very profitable. Horrible memories of raids and violence began to flood her mind. A single tear worked its way down her face as she rocked Rogue back and forth.
Rogue curved his neck around, nudging Samhra out of her daze and licking her in his effort to comfort her. Summoning up her strength once more, she continued to look on as the men dispersed from the cabin, all with the exception of Teague.
Bracing a hand on the low overhang, he leaned his head against his bicep until the doors finally closed behind him with an ominous thud. The waves swelled in the wake of the ship yet he stood as still as a statue. She noted that his gaze drifted to the floor and his jaw flexed. She didn't know what to say or feel. She held Rogue a bit tighter. A thousand emotions whirled through her - confusion, disappointment, fear.
Her Songsmith wasn't what she'd thought him to be. Maybe that was her own fault. She had built him up into a legend no man could possibly compete with.
Even though she had dreamed and fantasized of his return to her, she'd never really considered him one of them - not a pirate - anything but that.
The notion truly didn't make sense to her. How could a man capable of such kindness also be capable of such ruthlessness. He didn't have to come back to save her life. He could have killed Sao Feng's crew, but he didn't. He could have turned his back on the Empress, but again, he didn't.
Samhra looked down at Rogue, who peered back at her with sad, brown eyes, and saw the same thing: a great and loving heart. Her own life, past and present, was difficult, a litany of abuse, bad luck and hard times. But like Teague, she had made a choice, and like him, she could easily have been bitter and resentful. Instead, however battered, she had chosen to free herself from such a life.
Rogue looked to her, worried. Could a dog look worried? She thought, yawning. The pup yawned and flicked his tongue.
"I suppose that's enough for one night, then?" She heard a quick, high whine, and flapping ears.
Apparently, this was no ordinary dog.
~o~