FANFIC: THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY - CHAPTER 6
Author: mamazano
Title: THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY
Rating: R (definitely R)
Pairings: None specifically
Disclaimer: Disney owns some, history the rest. Just having fun.
Summary: The burning question for Jack Sparrow…is the girl in his dreams the girl of his dreams…or something more sinister?
A/N: This is a story of mystery and intrigue, set against the true historical age of pirates. Real people, places and events from history interwoven with the fictional world of Pirates of the Caribbean. An AU set somewhere after CotBP.
Again, a special thanks to
compassrose7577 for her diligent beta-reading and nautical knowledge (and nudging).
Through a Glass Darkly
Chapter 6 - Brilliant Madness
Out of the purple drifts,
From the shadow sea of night,
On tides of musk a moth uplifts
Its weary wings of white.
Is it a dream or ghost
Of a dream that comes to me,
Here in the twilight on the coast,
Blue cinctured by the sea?
Fashioned of foam and froth --
And the dream is ended soon,
And lo, whence came the moon-white moth
Comes now the moth-white moon!
~Frank Sherman
----
The dawn came, punctual, disregarding all in its singular journey, signaling a new day. For some, it heralded a new beginning, others a coda to a tale twice told. Rosy fingers stretched across the skies, Eos awakening in her splendor.
Jack Sparrow woke reluctantly from his slumbers, resisting the slow ascent into the conscious world around him. His sleep had been punctuated once more by dreams of the girl, not as sensual but just as haunting - vague images that swirled around him mist-like, fleeting as wil-o’-wisps in the night.
Opening his eyes, he stretched and yawned, scratching his belly absentmindedly as he glanced over towards the fire, long cold. He sat up abruptly, wondering if it had all been a dream. For the girl was gone, all that remained was his coat, neatly folded, and a small indentation in the sand where she had lain.
----
The men weighed anchor in the grey light preceding the dawn. Captain Davies had selected five able hands, all trustworthy men known for their discretion. Joshamee Gibbs rounded out the crew of the sloop, Contessa, a single -masted vessel rigged with a main sail and jib. Fast, light and agile, the sloop was an ideal pirate vessel; shallow on the draft she could navigate the coastal waters, out of reach of larger navy ships and could sail well into the wind, allowing them to catch slow -moving prizes and outrun pursuers. Outfitted with eight small cannon and six swivel guns, her maneuverability to avoid broadsides made her a dangerous foe against the more heavily -gunned, larger ships.
Davies sent one man aloft as lookout, and took the helm as the remaining crew members hoisted the sails. As they made their way across the bar towards the open sea, Gibbs stood pensively at the rail, watching across the crystal blue water, as the jagged green and purple mound that was New Providence receded behind them. A fool’s errand, he’d told Davies, but one that had to be made. Gibbs knew he could never rest easy, until he knew, for a fact, that Jack Sparrow was truly lost.
----
Jack found the girl at the water’s edge, sitting naked, arms wrapped around her knees as she stared out to sea, the waves gently swirling around her as they kissed the sandy shore. She did not acknowledge his presence, even after he squatted down next to her, only continued her lonely vigil, eyes full of unspoken sorrows.
“Gave me quite a turn you did, disappearing like that,” Jack said, lightly. His eyes darted up and down the shore, scanning the horizon. “Why do I feel like I’ve done this before? Déjà vu, I believe is how the French call it; intemperate lot they are, but good at the turn of a phrase.” In spite of doing his best to ignore her, his gaze lingered on the shapely curve of her back and nearly waist length, jet -black hair spilling over her shoulders. Resisting the urge to follow those curves with his hand, he rose with a groan and went to find something in which to clothe the girl before he succumbed to temptation.
“Time enough later for that,” he muttered, as he rummaged around in the bottom of the boat, where he’d stashed some items from the Spanish camp. He found a lightweight shirt that would serve to cover up some of that tempting flesh and returned to where the girl sat motionless, as if in a trance.
“I’m not one ordinarily inclined toward pointing out the short-comings or misfortunes of others. However, I do feel compelled-and motivated strictly by the demands of chivalry, believe me-to point out that you are, indeed, naked.” He paused to swallow. “Again, most certainly and undeniably, without a stitch.” Clearing his throat, he held out the shirt and said, huskily, “Although a more delightful sight I have yet to find in this godforsaken place, t’would be best for your present company if you’d cover up some of those delightful parts of yours.”
The girl did not respond, but glanced up at the fluttering fabric in front of her face and frowned slightly. Jack raised his eyebrows and smiled in his most beguiling fashion, hoping she’d at least smile back. Instead, he was treated to a silent tear trickling down her cheek.
Not good, he thought to himself. Not sure why she’s so sad, what with being safe from that padre and his Inquisition. Ought to be downright grateful, come to think of it.
Perhaps she lost someone dear in the wreck. Could be possible. The thoughts swirled in his head, as he held out a hand to the girl. The least he could do is take care of her - feed her, clothe her - until he could figure out a way to get them out of there.
“Guarico. Come”
Obediently, she stood up with fluid grace. Sweeping her hair back, she allowed him to slip the shirt over her head then took his hand, docilely following him back towards the camp. Once there, she sank back down onto the sand and resumed her vigil watch on the sea.
Frustrated and unsure, Jack found the need for action, any action. Feeling more rested than he had in days, he decided that, in a day or two, he would be fit enough to attempt the crossing to New Providence, weather permitting. So far, there had been nothing but balmy breezes and white fluffy clouds benignly drifting across the blue sky. All that could change in an instant, as Jack was well aware, especially this time of year.
Glancing back at the girl, Jack made the decision to take her along. Couldn’t just leave her, after all. It would help if she’d at least tell him where she was from, or where she’d been going, before they met. She couldn’t have just appeared out of thin air…could she?
----
Davies and his crew made their way up the coast of Florida, guiding the sloop closely along the shore, taking advantage of her shallow draft. They watched for any sign of human inhabitation, being aware of the reputation of the indigenous people along the coast and their dislike for foreigners. They made camp the first night as the sun was setting, settling around the fire drinking rum and exchanging tales of daring and adventure.
“Is it true what they say about Sparrow?” one of the crew men asked.
“Heard he sacked Nassau port without even firing a shot,” another commented.
The men began arguing whether such a feat was possible, until their captain raised his hand and declared it all to be true.
“Tis true enough, gents. Some say it was brilliance, some madness. I say it’s a bit of both, ol’ Jack has. What say you, Mister Gibbs?”
Gibbs nodded and said solemnly, “Jack Sparrow’s one of them rarities in which them two traits coincide, ‘tis true.” He took a big swallow of rum and settled down, and leaned forward. “Many a tale’s been told ‘bout Jack Sparrow, aye,” he began in a low voice “‘Tis the unwise sod that to be discountin’ the truth of ‘em too soon, mark my words.”
Davies agreed, leaning back and lighting his pipe. “Aye, I’ve sailed on a few of them ventures meself. None as crazy as the time Jack and us men took on Spain’s entire Windward Isles fleet, without firing a shot. Brilliance that was, and crazy to boot.” He puffed for a moment then started his tale.
“And there we were, bottled up in that there lagoon, the entire Windward fleet blocking our escape…”
----
Jack stretched out beside the fire, his eyes watching the girl as she sat quietly at his side. A balmy offshore breeze was blowing, rustling in the palms over their heads, a silvery moon rising in the star-spangled skies.
He had made some inroads with the girl; she would now sit contentedly beside him, though still keeping a bit of distance between them. She also had smiled several more times, inspired mostly by Jack’s attempts to procure fish for their meal.
He leaned on one elbow, reclined in the sand, lazily relaxing after dinner, idly waggling a foot as he stared at the girl…staring at the water.
“I always admired a woman who was well versed and skilled in the fine art of enlightened conversation.” He waited for a response, any indication from her. “Nothing bores me like a bore.”
Nothing.
“Well, aye, you’ve a point there, silence is a virtue-at least I think it is.”
He paused to ponder for a moment then shook his head, dismissing the thought.
“Ah! So we’re to return to that line of conversation, is it?” he declared, sitting up in mock interest. “Well, I had thought we had covered that subject rather thoroughly last night, but I’m always open to re-examination of the more salient points. You first, darling,” he swept an offering hand then waited expectantly. “Go ahead, don’t be bashful. Speak up, we’re all equals here.”
His shoulders slumped. “No, I thought not. All right, then,” he began, heaving a long sigh. “You leave me no choice…”
She watched him, a smile in her eyes as he began, with grand flourishes with words and hands, to extol the brilliance of one of his more daring escapades.
“And there we were, bottled up in that there lagoon, the entire Windward fleet blocking our escape.
----
Frank Davies took a long pull on his pipe and continued.
“Like enough, the odds were against us…the Spaniards had formidable fire power…a fourteen gunner, another with twenty-six guns and Admiral Espinosa’s flagship, the Magdalena, with thirty-eight guns. They’d lightened their ships and sailed over the bar whilst we was plundering the town. Then they retook the fort, repaired the guns and waited.
Now us gents weren’t about to give up all that hard earned booty we’d risked all to take. So when the note came demanding us to surrender, I’ll tell you plain each and every man was ready to fights to the death before surrendering their plunder to the filthy Spanish dogs. Hell, we’d risked our lives for it once and were quite prepared to do it again.
We had ourselves a fair sized fleet as well, though no match in guns. Now them Spaniards were in no hurry to come after us, so we had us a week to devise us a plan. So what’s we did, we sailed our entire fleet to within sight of the Spanish squadron and dropped anchor. Just sat there, fer two days we sat, making them nervous like. Then suddenly we was sailing at full speed into the blockade, led by a Cuban merchant ship we’d taken earlier, flying the Admiral’s colours. She was headed straight towards Espinosa’s flagship, came up alongside and grappled the Magdalena and made as if to board her.
Exceptin' there weren’t no ones swarming over her rail. When the Spaniards finally leapt over onto her decks, they found the crew had gone overboard over the other rail, having set fire to the powder magazine, leaving the ship manned by a row of dummies. And at that same moment, that Cuban ship burst into flame, completely engulfing the Magdalena, forcing Espinosa to leap into the water with his panicking men to avoids being roasted alive.
Seeing their flagship sinking fast, the other two ships cut their cables and ran for the protection of the fort’s guns. They run ‘em aground and set fire to ‘em, so that’s us pirates wouldn’t capture ‘em. But the men, theys were able to put out the fire on the fourteen gunner and refloat her. So, for all his efforts, Admiral Espinosa had simply given us mates another prize.”
Davies puffed contentedly and glanced up at the star studded sky, remembering the cleverness of the then much younger Captain Jack Sparrow. Daft most called him, but Davies knew better. Brilliant madness. A rare combination of traits. A combination which had propelled Davies to believing Jack was here… somewhere… along this coast. Lad was too clever by far to succumb to some rogue wave.
----
The fort was still blocking our escape, though. Now heavily reinforced by the survivors of the armada, they easily beat off our assault by land the next day. We offered them an exchange of hostages for free passage but they refused. So we were left with no other option.
Jack sat back with a smile of satisfaction as he remembered the events, chuckling to himself as he recalled the panic aboard the flagship. The dummies had added a special touch to the plan, originally destined for a dressmaker in Havana. Glancing over at the girl, he caught her clandestinely studying him through lowered lashes, a small smile on her face. Encouraged Jack leaned back and continued his tale.
So ol’ Jack here devised a genius plan. We waited a few days then returned with our little fleet, anchoring just out of range of them guns up at the fort. Throughout the day, I taunted them, plying the boats back and forth, with what would seem to them as landin’ large amounts of men. Truth be told, no men were landin’ at all, simply had them lay on the bottoms of the boats on the return trip. However, the Spaniards were fooled into thinkin’ that we were planning another land assault on the fort. So, that night they turned their guns landward. And once it were dark, our ships simply weighed anchor and sailed out of the lagoon, pretty as you please.”
Jack finished his tale and leaned back, one hand behind his head, the other drumming a random tattoo on his chest. He stole a quick glance at the girl; she had listened throughout without a word, and now was once again, gazing out at the sea illuminated by the bright moon above.
With a shudder, she suddenly stood, her figure silhouetted against the firelight, poised as if to run. Then just as quickly, her shoulders drooped dejectedly and she collapsed in a huddle, eyes pooling with tears.
Jack felt a stirring inside, a need to comfort the poor girl. “Guarico,” he said softly, holding out his hand. To his surprise she did, curling up in the crook of his arm, warm and soft as she buried her face in his shirt and sobbed silent tears. He wrapped his arm around her, stroking her hair and murmuring soft words of comfort, acutely aware of her warmth pressed against him.
“Well, they always say that actions speak louder than words. And I must admit that to be true...” Jack began, his free hand making a slow descent along the girl’s back. She started and sat up abruptly, trembling as if ready to bolt. Jack held up his hands.
“All right, no worries, luv. Not that sort of action then. Have to admit I'm a bit relieved, actually…still a bit sore from the other night.” He smiled and added, “Almost forgot to thank you for not visiting with ol' Jack last night, not sure if the lad would have been up for it. Figuratively speaking, seeing how he's certainly up for it at the moment.”
Jack grinned sheepishly and surreptitiously adjusted himself with a slight wince. Clearing his throat he held out his hand again and said in a reassuring voice, “Promise I won't do nothing. A bit of a cuddle is a fine thing to be sure, and I must admit you're a fine thing to be cuddling.”
The girl had moved off once more, sitting to one side, staring as ever at the sea. Jack sighed and laid back and gazed at the sky, amusing himself with naming the constellations while keeping a covert eye on her, wondering what the girl was watching for. For she was obviously waiting for something or someone to materialize out of the water.
----
Gibbs finished the bottle of rum he was drinking, ruefully holding it up to the dim light from the campfire, before chucking it in the sand. The crew were all peacefully snoring, but Gibbs found himself annoyingly awake and decided to take a walk along the moonlit beach. It was perfect tropical evening, with a balmy breeze blowing gently, the palm trees rustling in accompaniment to the soft lapping of the waves.
Somewhere along this isolated stretch of coastline, he hoped to find Jack Sparrow. It a was gamble of long odds, aye. But the truth be told, Gibbs had a gut feeling that he’d be reunited with his friend, once more. Shaking his head at the thought of what hardships Jack must have had to endure, Gibbs made his way back to the camp and settled down for the night.
It seems only minutes, but must have been much later, when Gibbs was awakened by a smothering sense of presence upon him. Struggling to emerge from the dreamlike state he found himself in, Gibbs opened his eyes to a black shadow as it rose above where he laid. Gasping for breath he staggered to his feet, aware that the rest of the crew were ominously silent. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs caught the fleeting glimpse of a dark figure hurrying down the beach, before it disappeared into the sea.
----
The girl rose suddenly, cocking her head as if listening, before slowly walking down towards the waterline. Jack followed her warily, wondering where she was going. The moonlight illuminated the shore, the sands glistening white, the shadows deep black. To Jack’s surprise a darker shadow separated itself and slid silently towards the still figure of the girl, spreading wing like it rose above her. The hairs on the back of Jack’s neck rose as he watched. Realizing this to be not a good thing, he took several quick strides in the girl’s direction, calling loudly. The shadow paused then streamed away along the surface of the water. With a shudder, the girl collapsed in the wet sand, the waves lapping gently around her. With another quick look around, he gathered the unconscious girl in his arms, her skin once again cold to the touch. Returning to the camp, he stoked the fire and wrapped her in his coat, holding her in his arms as he kept vigil in the night. Whatever it was he had seen he was sure it had meant to do the girl harm.
Title: THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY
Rating: R (definitely R)
Pairings: None specifically
Disclaimer: Disney owns some, history the rest. Just having fun.
Summary: The burning question for Jack Sparrow…is the girl in his dreams the girl of his dreams…or something more sinister?
A/N: This is a story of mystery and intrigue, set against the true historical age of pirates. Real people, places and events from history interwoven with the fictional world of Pirates of the Caribbean. An AU set somewhere after CotBP.
Again, a special thanks to
compassrose7577 for her diligent beta-reading and nautical knowledge (and nudging).
Through a Glass Darkly
Chapter 6 - Brilliant Madness
Out of the purple drifts,
From the shadow sea of night,
On tides of musk a moth uplifts
Its weary wings of white.
Is it a dream or ghost
Of a dream that comes to me,
Here in the twilight on the coast,
Blue cinctured by the sea?
Fashioned of foam and froth --
And the dream is ended soon,
And lo, whence came the moon-white moth
Comes now the moth-white moon!
~Frank Sherman
----
The dawn came, punctual, disregarding all in its singular journey, signaling a new day. For some, it heralded a new beginning, others a coda to a tale twice told. Rosy fingers stretched across the skies, Eos awakening in her splendor.
Jack Sparrow woke reluctantly from his slumbers, resisting the slow ascent into the conscious world around him. His sleep had been punctuated once more by dreams of the girl, not as sensual but just as haunting - vague images that swirled around him mist-like, fleeting as wil-o’-wisps in the night.
Opening his eyes, he stretched and yawned, scratching his belly absentmindedly as he glanced over towards the fire, long cold. He sat up abruptly, wondering if it had all been a dream. For the girl was gone, all that remained was his coat, neatly folded, and a small indentation in the sand where she had lain.
----
The men weighed anchor in the grey light preceding the dawn. Captain Davies had selected five able hands, all trustworthy men known for their discretion. Joshamee Gibbs rounded out the crew of the sloop, Contessa, a single -masted vessel rigged with a main sail and jib. Fast, light and agile, the sloop was an ideal pirate vessel; shallow on the draft she could navigate the coastal waters, out of reach of larger navy ships and could sail well into the wind, allowing them to catch slow -moving prizes and outrun pursuers. Outfitted with eight small cannon and six swivel guns, her maneuverability to avoid broadsides made her a dangerous foe against the more heavily -gunned, larger ships.
Davies sent one man aloft as lookout, and took the helm as the remaining crew members hoisted the sails. As they made their way across the bar towards the open sea, Gibbs stood pensively at the rail, watching across the crystal blue water, as the jagged green and purple mound that was New Providence receded behind them. A fool’s errand, he’d told Davies, but one that had to be made. Gibbs knew he could never rest easy, until he knew, for a fact, that Jack Sparrow was truly lost.
----
Jack found the girl at the water’s edge, sitting naked, arms wrapped around her knees as she stared out to sea, the waves gently swirling around her as they kissed the sandy shore. She did not acknowledge his presence, even after he squatted down next to her, only continued her lonely vigil, eyes full of unspoken sorrows.
“Gave me quite a turn you did, disappearing like that,” Jack said, lightly. His eyes darted up and down the shore, scanning the horizon. “Why do I feel like I’ve done this before? Déjà vu, I believe is how the French call it; intemperate lot they are, but good at the turn of a phrase.” In spite of doing his best to ignore her, his gaze lingered on the shapely curve of her back and nearly waist length, jet -black hair spilling over her shoulders. Resisting the urge to follow those curves with his hand, he rose with a groan and went to find something in which to clothe the girl before he succumbed to temptation.
“Time enough later for that,” he muttered, as he rummaged around in the bottom of the boat, where he’d stashed some items from the Spanish camp. He found a lightweight shirt that would serve to cover up some of that tempting flesh and returned to where the girl sat motionless, as if in a trance.
“I’m not one ordinarily inclined toward pointing out the short-comings or misfortunes of others. However, I do feel compelled-and motivated strictly by the demands of chivalry, believe me-to point out that you are, indeed, naked.” He paused to swallow. “Again, most certainly and undeniably, without a stitch.” Clearing his throat, he held out the shirt and said, huskily, “Although a more delightful sight I have yet to find in this godforsaken place, t’would be best for your present company if you’d cover up some of those delightful parts of yours.”
The girl did not respond, but glanced up at the fluttering fabric in front of her face and frowned slightly. Jack raised his eyebrows and smiled in his most beguiling fashion, hoping she’d at least smile back. Instead, he was treated to a silent tear trickling down her cheek.
Not good, he thought to himself. Not sure why she’s so sad, what with being safe from that padre and his Inquisition. Ought to be downright grateful, come to think of it.
Perhaps she lost someone dear in the wreck. Could be possible. The thoughts swirled in his head, as he held out a hand to the girl. The least he could do is take care of her - feed her, clothe her - until he could figure out a way to get them out of there.
“Guarico. Come”
Obediently, she stood up with fluid grace. Sweeping her hair back, she allowed him to slip the shirt over her head then took his hand, docilely following him back towards the camp. Once there, she sank back down onto the sand and resumed her vigil watch on the sea.
Frustrated and unsure, Jack found the need for action, any action. Feeling more rested than he had in days, he decided that, in a day or two, he would be fit enough to attempt the crossing to New Providence, weather permitting. So far, there had been nothing but balmy breezes and white fluffy clouds benignly drifting across the blue sky. All that could change in an instant, as Jack was well aware, especially this time of year.
Glancing back at the girl, Jack made the decision to take her along. Couldn’t just leave her, after all. It would help if she’d at least tell him where she was from, or where she’d been going, before they met. She couldn’t have just appeared out of thin air…could she?
----
Davies and his crew made their way up the coast of Florida, guiding the sloop closely along the shore, taking advantage of her shallow draft. They watched for any sign of human inhabitation, being aware of the reputation of the indigenous people along the coast and their dislike for foreigners. They made camp the first night as the sun was setting, settling around the fire drinking rum and exchanging tales of daring and adventure.
“Is it true what they say about Sparrow?” one of the crew men asked.
“Heard he sacked Nassau port without even firing a shot,” another commented.
The men began arguing whether such a feat was possible, until their captain raised his hand and declared it all to be true.
“Tis true enough, gents. Some say it was brilliance, some madness. I say it’s a bit of both, ol’ Jack has. What say you, Mister Gibbs?”
Gibbs nodded and said solemnly, “Jack Sparrow’s one of them rarities in which them two traits coincide, ‘tis true.” He took a big swallow of rum and settled down, and leaned forward. “Many a tale’s been told ‘bout Jack Sparrow, aye,” he began in a low voice “‘Tis the unwise sod that to be discountin’ the truth of ‘em too soon, mark my words.”
Davies agreed, leaning back and lighting his pipe. “Aye, I’ve sailed on a few of them ventures meself. None as crazy as the time Jack and us men took on Spain’s entire Windward Isles fleet, without firing a shot. Brilliance that was, and crazy to boot.” He puffed for a moment then started his tale.
“And there we were, bottled up in that there lagoon, the entire Windward fleet blocking our escape…”
----
Jack stretched out beside the fire, his eyes watching the girl as she sat quietly at his side. A balmy offshore breeze was blowing, rustling in the palms over their heads, a silvery moon rising in the star-spangled skies.
He had made some inroads with the girl; she would now sit contentedly beside him, though still keeping a bit of distance between them. She also had smiled several more times, inspired mostly by Jack’s attempts to procure fish for their meal.
He leaned on one elbow, reclined in the sand, lazily relaxing after dinner, idly waggling a foot as he stared at the girl…staring at the water.
“I always admired a woman who was well versed and skilled in the fine art of enlightened conversation.” He waited for a response, any indication from her. “Nothing bores me like a bore.”
Nothing.
“Well, aye, you’ve a point there, silence is a virtue-at least I think it is.”
He paused to ponder for a moment then shook his head, dismissing the thought.
“Ah! So we’re to return to that line of conversation, is it?” he declared, sitting up in mock interest. “Well, I had thought we had covered that subject rather thoroughly last night, but I’m always open to re-examination of the more salient points. You first, darling,” he swept an offering hand then waited expectantly. “Go ahead, don’t be bashful. Speak up, we’re all equals here.”
His shoulders slumped. “No, I thought not. All right, then,” he began, heaving a long sigh. “You leave me no choice…”
She watched him, a smile in her eyes as he began, with grand flourishes with words and hands, to extol the brilliance of one of his more daring escapades.
“And there we were, bottled up in that there lagoon, the entire Windward fleet blocking our escape.
----
Frank Davies took a long pull on his pipe and continued.
“Like enough, the odds were against us…the Spaniards had formidable fire power…a fourteen gunner, another with twenty-six guns and Admiral Espinosa’s flagship, the Magdalena, with thirty-eight guns. They’d lightened their ships and sailed over the bar whilst we was plundering the town. Then they retook the fort, repaired the guns and waited.
Now us gents weren’t about to give up all that hard earned booty we’d risked all to take. So when the note came demanding us to surrender, I’ll tell you plain each and every man was ready to fights to the death before surrendering their plunder to the filthy Spanish dogs. Hell, we’d risked our lives for it once and were quite prepared to do it again.
We had ourselves a fair sized fleet as well, though no match in guns. Now them Spaniards were in no hurry to come after us, so we had us a week to devise us a plan. So what’s we did, we sailed our entire fleet to within sight of the Spanish squadron and dropped anchor. Just sat there, fer two days we sat, making them nervous like. Then suddenly we was sailing at full speed into the blockade, led by a Cuban merchant ship we’d taken earlier, flying the Admiral’s colours. She was headed straight towards Espinosa’s flagship, came up alongside and grappled the Magdalena and made as if to board her.
Exceptin' there weren’t no ones swarming over her rail. When the Spaniards finally leapt over onto her decks, they found the crew had gone overboard over the other rail, having set fire to the powder magazine, leaving the ship manned by a row of dummies. And at that same moment, that Cuban ship burst into flame, completely engulfing the Magdalena, forcing Espinosa to leap into the water with his panicking men to avoids being roasted alive.
Seeing their flagship sinking fast, the other two ships cut their cables and ran for the protection of the fort’s guns. They run ‘em aground and set fire to ‘em, so that’s us pirates wouldn’t capture ‘em. But the men, theys were able to put out the fire on the fourteen gunner and refloat her. So, for all his efforts, Admiral Espinosa had simply given us mates another prize.”
Davies puffed contentedly and glanced up at the star studded sky, remembering the cleverness of the then much younger Captain Jack Sparrow. Daft most called him, but Davies knew better. Brilliant madness. A rare combination of traits. A combination which had propelled Davies to believing Jack was here… somewhere… along this coast. Lad was too clever by far to succumb to some rogue wave.
----
The fort was still blocking our escape, though. Now heavily reinforced by the survivors of the armada, they easily beat off our assault by land the next day. We offered them an exchange of hostages for free passage but they refused. So we were left with no other option.
Jack sat back with a smile of satisfaction as he remembered the events, chuckling to himself as he recalled the panic aboard the flagship. The dummies had added a special touch to the plan, originally destined for a dressmaker in Havana. Glancing over at the girl, he caught her clandestinely studying him through lowered lashes, a small smile on her face. Encouraged Jack leaned back and continued his tale.
So ol’ Jack here devised a genius plan. We waited a few days then returned with our little fleet, anchoring just out of range of them guns up at the fort. Throughout the day, I taunted them, plying the boats back and forth, with what would seem to them as landin’ large amounts of men. Truth be told, no men were landin’ at all, simply had them lay on the bottoms of the boats on the return trip. However, the Spaniards were fooled into thinkin’ that we were planning another land assault on the fort. So, that night they turned their guns landward. And once it were dark, our ships simply weighed anchor and sailed out of the lagoon, pretty as you please.”
Jack finished his tale and leaned back, one hand behind his head, the other drumming a random tattoo on his chest. He stole a quick glance at the girl; she had listened throughout without a word, and now was once again, gazing out at the sea illuminated by the bright moon above.
With a shudder, she suddenly stood, her figure silhouetted against the firelight, poised as if to run. Then just as quickly, her shoulders drooped dejectedly and she collapsed in a huddle, eyes pooling with tears.
Jack felt a stirring inside, a need to comfort the poor girl. “Guarico,” he said softly, holding out his hand. To his surprise she did, curling up in the crook of his arm, warm and soft as she buried her face in his shirt and sobbed silent tears. He wrapped his arm around her, stroking her hair and murmuring soft words of comfort, acutely aware of her warmth pressed against him.
“Well, they always say that actions speak louder than words. And I must admit that to be true...” Jack began, his free hand making a slow descent along the girl’s back. She started and sat up abruptly, trembling as if ready to bolt. Jack held up his hands.
“All right, no worries, luv. Not that sort of action then. Have to admit I'm a bit relieved, actually…still a bit sore from the other night.” He smiled and added, “Almost forgot to thank you for not visiting with ol' Jack last night, not sure if the lad would have been up for it. Figuratively speaking, seeing how he's certainly up for it at the moment.”
Jack grinned sheepishly and surreptitiously adjusted himself with a slight wince. Clearing his throat he held out his hand again and said in a reassuring voice, “Promise I won't do nothing. A bit of a cuddle is a fine thing to be sure, and I must admit you're a fine thing to be cuddling.”
The girl had moved off once more, sitting to one side, staring as ever at the sea. Jack sighed and laid back and gazed at the sky, amusing himself with naming the constellations while keeping a covert eye on her, wondering what the girl was watching for. For she was obviously waiting for something or someone to materialize out of the water.
----
Gibbs finished the bottle of rum he was drinking, ruefully holding it up to the dim light from the campfire, before chucking it in the sand. The crew were all peacefully snoring, but Gibbs found himself annoyingly awake and decided to take a walk along the moonlit beach. It was perfect tropical evening, with a balmy breeze blowing gently, the palm trees rustling in accompaniment to the soft lapping of the waves.
Somewhere along this isolated stretch of coastline, he hoped to find Jack Sparrow. It a was gamble of long odds, aye. But the truth be told, Gibbs had a gut feeling that he’d be reunited with his friend, once more. Shaking his head at the thought of what hardships Jack must have had to endure, Gibbs made his way back to the camp and settled down for the night.
It seems only minutes, but must have been much later, when Gibbs was awakened by a smothering sense of presence upon him. Struggling to emerge from the dreamlike state he found himself in, Gibbs opened his eyes to a black shadow as it rose above where he laid. Gasping for breath he staggered to his feet, aware that the rest of the crew were ominously silent. Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs caught the fleeting glimpse of a dark figure hurrying down the beach, before it disappeared into the sea.
----
The girl rose suddenly, cocking her head as if listening, before slowly walking down towards the waterline. Jack followed her warily, wondering where she was going. The moonlight illuminated the shore, the sands glistening white, the shadows deep black. To Jack’s surprise a darker shadow separated itself and slid silently towards the still figure of the girl, spreading wing like it rose above her. The hairs on the back of Jack’s neck rose as he watched. Realizing this to be not a good thing, he took several quick strides in the girl’s direction, calling loudly. The shadow paused then streamed away along the surface of the water. With a shudder, the girl collapsed in the wet sand, the waves lapping gently around her. With another quick look around, he gathered the unconscious girl in his arms, her skin once again cold to the touch. Returning to the camp, he stoked the fire and wrapped her in his coat, holding her in his arms as he kept vigil in the night. Whatever it was he had seen he was sure it had meant to do the girl harm.