Speeding up his usual insouciant strut, Jack climbed the labyrinthine corridors to the room Teague used for meetings of the Brethren. Located much lower in the towering pile of ships than The Drunken Lady, it was the cavernous hold of a long-derelict ship, with the ancient vessel’s curving “ribs” visible. When he reached the entrance, Jack nodded at the two pirates standing guard outside. He was well known to Teague’s men; they returned his nod and stood aside. Jack put his hand on the door fastening and hesitated, listening. After a few moments, he heard a woman’s melodic tones. Summoning his most charming smile, he opened the door and entered.
Esmeralda was there, as he had expected, and Jack saw with relief that Christophe was not. He had an uncomfortable notion that any comparison between himself and the handsome older pirate wouldn’t favor him. As he’d figured, the huge, scarred table in the center of the dimly lit chamber was mostly empty. Despite the fact that some of the hull planking was missing, leaving portions of the chamber open to the air, ship lanterns were still lit. They were hung against the wrecked hull, but did little to alleviate the gloom. The hodgepodge of wrecked ships overhung this section, blocking out most of the daylight. Teague sat at the head of the table, with Mistress Ching, Pirate Lord of the Pacific, on his left. The Spaniard, Villanueva, Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea, sat to his right. Don Rafael, Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, sat next to his countryman, with his granddaughter beside him.
On the opposite side of the table, next to Mistress Ching, Boris Palachnik sat bolt upright, his scarred hands steepled before him.
“Borya” was the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, and Jack had known him casually for years. He was a small, scrawny man who wore a pair of wire-framed, thick-lensed spectacles on a ribbon around his neck. His name meant “little butcher” in Russian, and the word in pirate society was that Borya had taken that name either as a joke, or to try to belie his appearance. Anyone meeting him on the street would have taken him for an undernourished clerk. His lined, weather-beaten face was thin and sharp-featured, and, despite years of living outdoors, his nose was always sunburned and peeling. Wispy gray hair stuck straight up from his pink scalp, and his beard was equally thin and patchy. In his short coat, shapeless hat, and felt boots, he was a strange figure indeed.
Nevertheless, Borya was as much a true pirate as any of his more imposing brethren. He captained a sleek, powerful sloop named Koldunya. When Jack was about seven, he’d asked him what that word meant, and the old Pirate Lord had smiled, revealing small, very white teeth, and replied. “Means ‘witch’ in my language. You know what ‘witch’ is? Woman who works magic, da?”
Jack hadn’t yet met Tia Dalma, but Teague knew some very odd people. Little Jack had nodded. “Yes, I know what that is. But aren’t witches supposed to be ugly? She’s a beautiful ship.”
Borya had smiled with pleasure at the justified compliment, and ruffled Jack’s hair. “You have good eye for ships, Jack-boy. Many ships I have had since I went ‘on the account,’ as you English put it, and all were beautiful…and all named Koldunya. Do you know what kind of ship she is?”
Young Jack had nodded. “Of course! She’s a Jamaica sloop. Five gun ports to a side, shallow draft, fore and aft rigged, with raked masts.”
Borya had blinked, clearly impressed. “Teague,” he’d said, “this boy, he is sharp one, he is. Won’t be long before he will be Pirate Lord himself, da?”
Teague, never one to praise Jack, had merely grunted in reply.
As Jack entered the meeting room, every face in the room turned to him, eyes wary. Hands felt for weapons, but then, as they recognized him, the Pirate Lords relaxed—except for the Keeper of the Code. Edward Teague’s expression darkened, then he made a discreet brushing away gesture with two fingers. The meaning was clear. Go away.
Jack pretended not to notice it. “Good afternoon, lovely ladies,” he said, doffing his hat and making his most elegant bow, “and esteemed gentlemen.”
A small ripple of amusement ran around the gathering. Pirates loved to be mistaken for gentry, no matter what their country of origin. It was one reason that they tended to dress expensively—if somewhat flamboyantly—when they went out in public in a “safe” place such as Tortuga, certain strongholds on the Madagascar coast, and, of course, Shipwreck Cove.
“My apologies for my tardiness,” Jack continued, smoothly. “I needed to assume more…suitable…attire.” Don Rafael chuckled goodhumoredly, Mistress Ching smiled, Villanueva laughed and saluted Jack with his wine goblet, and Borya’s teeth flashed in the dimness. Esmeralda gave him a brief, unreadable glance.
Teague’s scarred, lined features never moved, but his eyes were hard and his voice harsh. “If you must come in, Jacky boy, sit down and stop babbling.”
Ignoring him, Jack sashayed into the room, halted beside Esmeralda’s chair, then greeted Mistress Ching, Borya, and Villanueva individually. Taking a breath, he inclined his head toward the head of the table, still without making eye contact. “And our esteemed Keeper of the Code, Captain Teague, of course,” he added.
Villanueva, who was evidently on his second or third goblet of wine, suddenly straightened up. “Jack,” he said in his heavily accented English, “that reminds me, you owe—”
Jack smiled and bowed again. “I am leagues ahead of you, my dear captain,” he said loftily, removing a small purse from inside his belt. He shook it, and it clinked. Handing it to the Pirate Lord with a flourish, he added, “and thank you so much, Señor. I included a bit extra to recompense you for your patience.”
Villanueva muttered his own thanks, then quickly counted the coins before stowing the little purse away.
Jack didn’t wait for the pirate to finish counting, but instead bowed slightly to Don Rafael and his granddaughter. “Mistress Ching, I see we have another gentleman and a young lady present. May I prevail upon you to provide an introduction?”
The blind old Chinese woman laughed softly. She’d always found Jack amusing. “Don Rafael, Doña Esmeralda, allow me to present to you Jack Sparrow, Captain Teague’s…” her momentary pause was hardly discernible, “protégé.”
Jack bowed again, more deeply this time, to Don Rafael, then more deeply still to Lady Esmeralda. “Captain,” he murmured, “Lady Esmeralda.”
They returned his greetings. Jack was disappointed that Esmeralda didn’t extend her hand. Nevertheless, he was now where he’d aimed to be, so he pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.
Teague sat up straighter. “Let’s return to what we were discussing before the interruption,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ve concluded that we must take action regarding these rogue pirates. If these blackguards continue to plunder and menace merchant shipping, it won’t be long before England, France, Spain, and probably Portugal will dispatch their navies to hunt down all pirate ships they find. They won’t distinguish between those of us that keep to the Code, and these rogue pirates…these Code-breakers.”
Borya Palachnik made a brief, slashing gesture. “Four months ago, off coast of English colony name of Virginia, we saw smoke of burning. We sail to investigate. Nothing left but burning ship, and wreckage in water. Only living thing was cabin boy clutching oar, floating on water. Child told us he escaped death only by burrowing under bodies of slain. Pah! These cowards, they not pirates, but butchers!”
Mistress Ching, who commanded a formidable fleet of her own, larger than even the Chinese Emperor’s fleet, shook her head, her blind, white eyes gleaming eerily in the lantern light. “We have not seen any sign of them in the waters near the Chinese coasts,” she said.
“They have been preying off the coast of Spain,” Villanueva said. “And they operate as Borya has described. We have found two burning wrecks, and other ships have simply vanished like this!” Holding up his scarred right hand, he snapped his fingers.
Just then, one of Teague’s retainers entered, a cashiered old pirate who bobbed his grizzled head respectfully at the gathering, then murmured softly to the Kee
per. Teague nodded to him. “Ladies, gentlemen, let us continue our discussion over dinner.”
The guards opened the doors, and former crewmen, too old for shipboard service, began carrying in trays of food and more goblets of wine. They bustled back and forth, as the conversation among the assembled Pirate Lords turned to more general, less confidential subjects.
Jack covertly glanced at Esmeralda, trying to catch her eye, but she was determinedly not looking at him. Realizing that she was even aware of him cheered him greatly.
Reynaldo, a former helmsman with a pronounced limp, placed a plate before him. Jack murmured his thanks, then sat poised as he slid Lady Esmeralda’s plate before her. As he’d anticipated, she glanced up at Reynaldo to thank him. As her eyes met his, Jack flashed her a quick smile, and had the satisfaction of seeing her hastily look back down at her food. Unless he was mistaken in the dim light, she was blushing.
Scarcely noticing what was on his plate, Jack began eating, wondering how to get a conversation between them started. Should he wait for her to speak? Perhaps that would be best.…
By now the Pirate Lords were busily discussing recent events and absent friends, exchanging information and gossip. Jack heard Don Rafael say, “You’ll never guess who I encountered at Oporto a few months ago!”
“Who was that?” Teague asked, pouring more wine for his fellow Pirate Lords.
“James.”
Teague’s eyebrows rose, and Villanueva exclaimed, “Dios mio! I thought he must have met with a rope long ago! It has been years!”
“It has been many years,” agreed Don Rafael. “I thought the same thing. But there he was, sitting at a table in a little taberna, eating.” He took a bite of his own food, chewed, then added, “He’s lost a hand.”
“You spoke with him, da?” Borya asked.
“Of course. I walked over and joined him. He seemed startled, but glad to see me. When I asked him later on how he was managing without the hand, he said that it wasn’t so bad, the hook was as good as a dagger in a fight.”
“So where has he been keeping himself ?” Villanueva asked.
“I asked him, but he wouldn’t say. Prison? That doesn’t seem likely, all these years.” Don Rafael shrugged. “And it’s not as though they lock us up.”
Jack swallowed hard. Everyone knew the penalty for piracy. He’d seen the gibbets too many times, with their dangling bodies.
“Aside from the lost hand, how did he seem?” Teague asked.
Don Rafael shook his head, his expression puzzled. “It was strange, Eduardo. He commented on this.” The Pirate Lord ran a hand over his thick gray hair, which touched his shoulders. “Since the last time we were together, I barely had any gray. But he didn’t look a day older. Not a day.”
Jack’s attention was suddenly far more focused. Interesting…I wouldn’t mind not aging…
“Odd,” Teague admitted. Few pirates lived to be old, and the few that did had features that betrayed their years.
“Did he brag as much as he used to?” Mistress Ching asked.
“No, and that was strange, too,” Don Rafael replied. “James was a lot more…subdued. You remember his temper. He’d fly into such rages.”
Villanueva gulped wine, then nodded. “I kept expecting his crew to slit his throat in his sleep and send him to Davy Jones. But they were all too frightened of him.”
“The night I saw him, he held his temper—and his tongue,” Don Rafael said. “Very closed-mouthed, he was. I only saw his composure disturbed once during the meal. The taberna keeper’s little lad came round to collect our plates, and when he turned and saw him, for just a second he looked—scared. No, worse than that. Terrified.” Don Rafael held out his wine goblet to be refilled. “Can you imagine that? Afraid! Of a young boy!”
Silence fell, as the Pirate Lords contemplated Don Rafael’s strange account. Jack stole another glance at Emeralda as she carefully patted her lips with her serviette. Reminded by her example, he used his own, not his sleeve.
Teague sipped wine, then cleared his throat. “We should return to our subject,” he said, inclining his head courteously to the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean. “That is, if you were finished, Don Rafael?”
“Oh, si!” the Pirate Lord said. “I am sorry, forgive an old man’s gossip. I actually had a point to make. Just before we parted company, James mentioned that he had come upon a man, half dead, floating in the sea. They pulled him out, and before he died, he told them a story similar to the ones I have heard here today. He said it happened off the coast of India. It seems these villains are everywhere.” He paused, then glanced meaningfully at Teague and added, “And then of course, there was the other story I heard.…”
“Excuse me…Señor Sparrow?” said a soft voice in cultured accents. “Would you please pass the bread?”
Jack quickly turned his attention back to Esmeralda, pleased that she’d spoken to him. Quickly, he passed the loaf to her. “Thank you, Señor,” she said, cutting away busily.
“You are most welcome.” Now that he had an opening, Jack was quick to follow the advantage. “How long have you been sailing with Don Rafael, Doña Esmeralda?”
He was rewarded with a little smile, and his heart jumped. “Since I was fifteen. Eleven years, now.”
“All the Pirate Lords speak well of him,” Jack said. “He’s held in great respect.”
Hearing this praise of her grandfather brought another smile. Lady Esmeralda buttered her bread. “He is my hero. We are the only family left to each other. After my parents died, he decided I must become a fine lady, perhaps serve at court, so he put me in a convent school in Barcelona. I missed him—and the sea—so much.” Her smile took on a touch of irony. “I hadn’t been there a month before I knew I wasn’t destined for the court of His Majesty.”
“I’ve never been to school,” Jack said. “I can barely imagine what it would be like. What did you do?”
“I applied myself to my lessons, and went without sweets so I could pay for fencing lessons in secret. After I had learned all they thought proper for a woman to know, I ran away from the school and found him. I was fifteen.”
“He didn’t try to take you back to Barcelona?”
She laughed softly. “Not directly. Instead, he brought me to Shipwreck Cove. I think he thought that I’d be so horrified by the exposure to pirate life that I’d agree to go back to the nuns. Instead, I loved the life. I’ve been with him ever since.”
Jack calculated, then was glad the room wasn’t better lit, because he could feel heat in his face. “So…that time when I…you had just come here from a convent?”
Esmeralda, taking in his expression, giggled. “Would it have hurt worse, to know you’d been trounced by a girl from a convent?”
Jack’s sense of the ridiculous saved him, and he flashed her a grin. “Yes, I suppose it would have. The bruises hurt badly enough. Teague wanted to know which of his men had thrashed me.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I was in a bit of a quandary,” Jack admitted. “I couldn’t tell him the truth, of course, and I didn’t want to identify anyone because Teague can be…rough…on those who annoy him.”
“I’ve heard,” she said, softly. “So what did you do?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Jack said.
Esmeralda shook her head. Her thick, black hair, softly curling, was held back from her face by tortoiseshell combs. Jack found himself imagining what it would be like to run his hands through that hair. Hastily, he looked down and took a random bite of food. “What did Teague do to you for not telling him?” she whispered, after a moment.
Jack picked up his wine goblet, and took a sip. “He gave me a worse hiding than you did,” he said, after a moment, careful to keep his tone light.
“Dios mio,” she said, softly. “I’m sorry…” she hesitated, and he could tell she was wondering how to address him.
“Jack. Please.”
“Very well. I am sorry…Jack.”
“And that was?” Her English was very fluent, with just a delightful hint of an accent.
“First impressions can be very deceiving,” Jack replied. “I’ll never again underestimate an opponent…or a lady.” He tipped his goblet toward her in a small salute, then drank.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed slightly, and she, in turn, reached for her goblet. After she’d sipped her wine, she looked back up at him, and her dark eyes danced with mischief. “That’s a valuable lesson,” she agreed, mock-solemn. “You’ve certainly learned a lot of things since the last time we met. Who taught you to be charming?”
Jack looked at her, and smiled, a slow, genuine smile. “Do you like to fish, Doña Esmeralda?”
“Sometimes,” she said, then added slowly, “I like swimming better. Are there still good places to swim on the other side of the island?”
“There are,” Jack said. “Would you like to sail around the island and find some of those places? With me?”
“That would please me, Jack,” she said. “And please, call me Esmeralda?”
“Nothing would please me more…Esmeralda.”
Jack smiled at her. He realized his plate was empty, though he couldn’t recall a single thing he’d eaten. Servitors quickly cleared away the remainder of the meal. When they had finished, Teague stood up. “Brethren of the Coast,” he said, formally, “Don Rafael brought with him a man that I want you to meet. He is one of us, a man on the account, and he has personally witnessed the actions of these rogue pirates. I want you to hear what he has to say.”
The Keeper of the Code nodded, and the guard opened the door.
A scar-faced man wearing a huge, battered hat strode in, and then halted beside Teague.
“Ladies, gentlemen, allow me present to you Captain Hector Barbossa.”
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom Page 6