Doña Pirata’s crew crowded in beside her and behind her, shouting with excitement as they hauled on the grappling lines, bringing the two ships together. As Jack watched, she turned to them and made a quick gesture. They stepped back and quieted immediately. Seeing that, Jack repressed a smile. He’d always known she’d be a good leader. A good pirate.
In his bemusement at seeing the famous Lady Pirate in her natural element, Jack had forgotten all about Captain Bainbridge until the older man muttered, “Damnation! By all that’s holy, Sparrow! The captain is a female!”
Jack wheeled around to see the old man’s eyes flash with righteous indignation. Bainbridge’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Jack swallowed. “Captain, pass over those weapons. I’ll take them and lock them up, but I’ll have to do it fast, sir, or you’ll lose them.”
He reached out. Bainbridge swatted his hand aside and dodged around him, moving like a man half his age. “I’ll not permit such an abomination aboard my ship!” he snarled. “She’s wearing trousers! Heaven and Earth, I’ll not abide it! No strumpet pirate will board my ship!”
Jack went after him, but the captain was moving fast, still ranting, but now he was shouting. “By heaven!” he bellowed. “Damn me for a coward if I permit some pirate slut, a mere woman, to plunder my ship!” He had almost reached the closest ladder leading down to the weather deck.
“Captain, no!” Jack said, finally catching up. Grabbing the older man’s upper arm with both hands, he swung him around bodily. Bainbridge cursed him in terms that would have done a buccaneer proud. Jack was astonished by the old man’s strength as they grappled. The pale blue eyes bulged, glaring wildly. Jack ducked and tried to protect his face as Bainbridge slammed fists and elbows into his head and body. The first mate quickly realized that he had to either fight back—which might have merited being hung for mutiny—or let go. Jack’s only consolation was that at the last minute he managed to grab the firearm out of Bainbridge’s pistol belt. The captain seemed not to notice it was gone. He continued his rush for the ladder, reached it, and started down.
Jack stood for a moment with the pistol in his hand, breathing hard. For a wild second, he thought about cocking and firing it. But the East India Trading Company would take a very dim view of that. And shooting a man in the back just wasn’t Jack Sparrow’s style. Instead, he shoved the pistol into his own belt, and went tearing after the old man.
In moments, it seemed, Bainbridge was down the ladder, racing across the weather deck. As he ran, he drew his sword, holding it high in his pudgy hand, waving it threateningly. “You’ll not board my ship, pirate strumpet!” he screamed. “For God and the king!”
Doña Pirata, who had just stepped over the gap between the ships and was standing poised on the brig’s gunwale, straightened as she heard Bainbridge’s battle cry. Seeing the old man coming for her, brandishing his sword, she drew her boarding cutlass. Jack, who was scrambling down the ladder yelled, “No! Stop him!” But the crew, sitting obediently on the weather deck, were frozen with shock at the sight of their deranged captain.
With part of his attention he realized that Doña Pirata, with an amused smile, had motioned her own crew back, indicating that she intended to deal with this portly, panting threat herself.
“Lady! No!” Jack yelled again. “Don’t hurt him!”
This time, Esmeralda heard him. Still standing poised on Fair Wind’s gunwale, her head turned as she scanned the weather deck, searching for the source of that familiar voice.
Jack knew she couldn’t see him, because Fair Wind’s crew, recovering their ability to move, had risen en masse and parted before their captain’s mad rush. They milled around, blocking Jack’s passage. He had to shove his way through the crowd. Realizing that any moment the pirate crew would be able to see him, he spared an instant to yank his tricorne down so it shadowed his face. Can’t let anyone recognize me…Teague probably posted a bounty on my head.
When he finally emerged from the crush of excited crewmen he bounded toward Esmeralda, who was still poised on the gunwale railing. Waving his arms, he yelled, “Lady! Over here!” He saw her head turn, her eyes widen as she recognized the way he moved. At the same moment, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bainbridge reach her. The captain’s blade flashed in the noontime sun as he aimed a violent slash at Esmeralda’s legs. Jack’s breath stopped.
He needn’t have worried. Doña Pirata had been schooled in fencing by her grandfather, in addition to the finest sword masters in Barcelona. She leaped nimbly into the air, over the slash, and came down lightly on Fair Wind’s deck, behind Bainbridge.
The captain whipped around. “Shameless hussy! Trouser-wearing slattern! Get off my deck!” He came on again, and this time she parried his cut, then disengaged, dancing back. She glanced over her shoulder at Jack, her eyebrows raised inquiringly. Jack could read her question as clearly as if she’d spoken it. Who IS this ancient lunatic?
“Abomination!” howled the captain. “Leave my ship!”
“Señor.” She spoke for the first time, her voice low and musical. She wasn’t even breathing hard. “I know not who you are, but you are sadly lacking in manners. That is no way to speak to a lady. Drop your sword, and you and your crew will live.”
Bainbridge came in again, slashing madly, and again she parried. She stopped retreating and began to circle, her footwork light and balanced, in contrast to the old man’s lumbering steps. “Please, señor. Stop this foolish attack. I do not wish to harm you.”
Bainbridge’s only reply was an epithet so vile that Jack’s eyebrows rose.
“Señor!” Doña Pirata said reprovingly. “Please, such language! I must protest!” She parried another hard but clumsy lunge. “You will upset my crew, hurt their tender ears.”
Bainbridge repeated the curse. She laughed. The slow, relentless circling continued. Jack edged around the perimeter of their path, keeping his head ducked so Venganza’s crew couldn’t see his face, considering his options. Should he knock the captain out with the butt of the pistol? Esmeralda was toying with Bainbridge, for the moment, and he knew she was speaking truthfully when she said she didn’t want to hurt him. But if the old man managed to get in a lucky thrust, or lunge…or if his name-calling annoyed her…
While Jack hesitated, Bainbridge, panting like a dog, cursed his opponent again, slashing wildly at her head. Esmeralda ducked, but as she did so, the tip of the old man’s sword caught the plume on her hat, cutting it in half.
She sprang back, saw the puff of white feather fluttering in the breeze, and her expression darkened. “You pompous old fool!” she spat, in Spanish. “I paid twenty pesos for that feather! You stop this nonsense!” And then she lunged.
Her form was perfect. Her sword slid in past Bainbridge’s guard as smoothly as a dolphin’s leap, and the tip found the fleshy upper part of the old man’s sword arm. She pinked him, lightly, then disengaged, leaping backward.
Captain Bainbridge staggered back, then halted, staring aghast at his upper arm. After a few moments, a dark spot appeared, slowly spreading. Seeing his own blood, Bainbridge’s eyes rolled up in his head. Like a mast toppling before the force of a gale, he swayed, then fell, to lie motionless on the deck.
“Dios mio!” Doña Pirata exclaimed. “I barely touched him! What ails the old fool now?”
Jack flung himself down beside the captain. “Captain Bainbridge?” he called. He looked down at the grizzled, weather-beaten countenance and saw pale blue eyes, staring blindly. “Oh, no,” he muttered, quickly touching two fingers against the side of Bainbridge’s wrinkled neck. Nothing stirred beneath them. Jack yanked open the captain’s coat, and pressed his ear against the left side of his chest, listening.
The entire ship seemed to hold its breath.
Beneath Jack’s cheek the old man’s body was still. No heartbeat. Jack listened for a slow count of sixty, then slowly, reluctantly, sat back on his heels. He looked up to see Tomlin and Robby Greene standing over him. “I’m
sorry, mates,” he said. “He’s gone.”
CHAPTER THREE
Doña Pirata
TOMLIN GASPED, then grabbed Bainbridge’s still body, shaking him. “Captain Bainbridge! Wake up, sir!”
When the dead man did not respond, Tomlin wailed, “What’s wrong with ’im?” He grabbed the captain’s jacket, then the neck of his shirt, and pulled them away from his shoulder, baring the wound. It was tiny, barely half an inch deep. The bleeding had stopped. Tomlin stared at Jack, his jaw working. “But…but…how could this little scratch ’ave done for ’im, Mr. Sparrow?”
“I suspect it was an apoplexy, Mr. Tomlin,” Jack said, as gently as he could. “He wasn’t a young man.”
“No,” Tomlin moaned. “What will happen to us without the cap’n?” He put both hands on Bainbridge’s shoulders and shook him again, so hard his arms flopped. “Cap’n!”
“Stop that, Mr. Tomlin,” Robby Greene ordered, gently but firmly. “It’s not respectful.”
Tomlin obeyed, trying to gulp back sobs.
Jack squared his shoulders and looked up at the second mate. “Mr. Greene, why don’t you and Mr. Tomlin go fetch a hammock?”
“Aye, Mr. Sparrow. Come along, Tomlin,” Greene replied.
When a sailor died at sea, he was sewn into his canvas hammock, which became his shroud. As the second and third mate left, many of the men muttered quick prayers, and several crossed themselves.
Jack sighed, then carefully straightened Bainbridge’s body and closed the staring blue eyes. He pulled the man’s clothing into place, and then placed the captain’s hat over the dead features. Only then did he stand up, still keeping his back to Venganza and her watching crew. Replacing the tricorne he’d doffed, he pulled it low over his face, positioning himself so he was partially obscured by the tarred ropes of the shrouds.
Only then did he look up to face Doña Pirata. While they’d been tending to the captain, she’d been standing silently near the gunwale, her cutlass once more sheathed, but now she raised her head and regarded him, her expression carefully blank.
Putting both hands together, chest-high, Jack bobbed a small bow. “Captain…as first mate of the brig Fair Wind, I am now in command. I wish to ensure the safety of my crew.” He kept his voice low, so it wouldn’t carry to her men. Then he added, for her ears alone, in fluent, if badly accented, French, “Please, don’t speak my name.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, then she stepped forward. “Señor. You may call me Doña Pirata. I captain the frigate Venganza. Señor, I regret the death of your captain. I believe you understand that it was never my intention to cause him harm.”
“I witnessed the engagement, Doña Pirata,” Jack said, eyeing her, wondering what would happen now. “What transpired was perfectly clear. Captain Bainbridge…when he attacked you, he was not himself.” He touched a finger meaningfully to his own temple. “Savvy?”
She nodded. “Comprendo, señor. Now we must—” she broke off when Greene and Tomlin returned, carrying a hammock, cord, and a huge needle to sew the hammock closed. “Perhaps we could parlay…somewhere else? So we may speak privately?”
Jack nodded, still keeping his voice low, and said, “Certainly. Though I must remain aboard my ship.”
“Let us speak up there,” she said, gesturing up at Fair Wind’s quarterdeck. “That way both our crews will be able to witness that we negotiate in good faith and remain in good health.”
Jack nodded, then turned to Fair Wind’s crew. He avoided looking down at what Robby and Tomlin were doing. “Lads, the Lady Pirate and I are going to discuss what happens now. We’ll be up on the quarterdeck.” He cleared his throat. “I know we will all miss Captain Bainbridge. His…service…will be tomorrow, at dawn, as custom dictates.”
When they had climbed the ladder, and were on the quarterdeck, Jack nodded at the helmsman, still standing at the tiller, and motioned for him to lash the tiller in place, and then leave. When the man started down the portside ladder, Jack and Esmeralda walked to the stern, as far away from the weather deck, and Fair Wind’s crew, as they could get. As before, Jack stood with his back to Venganza. He knew he was probably being overcautious about concealing his identity; pirate crews experienced a lot of turnover. It was possible that no one in her crew would recognize him. But why take chances?
Esmeralda leaned on the taffrail, gazing silently down at the deck, the brim of her hat obscuring her face. Jack, too, could think of nothing to say. He’d been excited at the thought of seeing her again, but now that they were together, the years apart seemed to rise between them, as tangible as a wall.
Finally, she looked up, and their eyes met.
Suddenly the years fell away and they both spoke at once.
“Jack, to see you like—”
“Esmeralda, I never—”
Both of them stopped. Jack smiled, and gestured with one hand. “Please…continue.”
She shrugged, smiled ruefully, then tried again. “This is a very strange meeting, Jack. To see you like this…I hardly recognized you.” Turning to stare out to sea, she whispered, “I have missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, love,” Jack said, moving up to stand beside her. “And you’re right; we find ourselves in a very strange situation.”
She nodded, then squared her shoulders, still staring out at the topaz water. “Well, we should get on with business. What cargo are you carrying?”
Jack laughed softly. “Rum, love. One hundred hogsheads. Five thousand gallons.” As he spoke, he remembered the events of the morning. Correction. Ninety-nine hogsheads, and about four thousand nine hundred and fifty gallons, actually. It seemed as though a year had passed since he’d ferreted out the rum thieves, instead of mere hours.
Now it was her turn to laugh, though it held a rueful note. “How appropriate, Jack. The last prize we took was carrying Madeira and cloth. That was two weeks ago.” She shook her head and sighed. “We still have the cloth.”
“Dare I hope that you won’t take it all, love?” Jack said. “If I have to sail me first command back to London with an empty hold, the East India Trading Company is not likely to be pleased. Can we…parlay?”
She turned to face him and smiled, a flash of white teeth in her tanned features. “What do you have to negotiate with, Mr. Sparrow?”
Jack bowed slightly. “Only my humble self, lovely pirate queen.”
“You? Humble?” She laughed out loud. After a moment, she sobered and thought for a moment. “I’ll take a third of the barrels. Plus half your spare canvas, and…” she paused to think. “How long have you been out?”
“We left Port Royal three days ago.”
“Ah, you’re fully stocked, then.” Her dark eyes gleamed, and she smiled happily. “I will also require ten hogsheads of fresh water, and a third of your bosun’s stores—”
“A third!” yelped Jack. Bosun’s stores referred to paint, line, sailcloth, and spars. “I’ll give you a fifth.”
“A quarter.”
“Very well,” he said, secretly pleased, but hiding it with a wounded grimace. “What else?”
She wagged a finger at him. “Don’t get top-lofty with me, Jack. I’m doing you a favor and you know it. Add in half your fresh fruit, plus two bags of biscuit and a cask of salt beef.”
Jack winced theatrically, but just for effect. “You have me over a barrel,” he said, with a slight bow. “Obviously. Well, now that we—”
Esmeralda pursed her lips. “Not so fast. I wasn’t finished.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “What else?”
“Your crew will carry it all over and place it in the hold of my ship, under my quartermaster’s direction. I don’t want my men seeing how much you’re carrying.” She thought for a moment. “And I am short on powder. I’ll need half of yours.”
“Half my powder,” Jack muttered. “That’s asking a lot. There are pirates in these waters, love.”
She nodded. “I’ll escort you until you reach Florida. No one will
dare to challenge Venganza. After that, you’ll be on your own, but with any luck you’ll reach England without even sighting another vessel.”
“Done!” Jack said, relieved. “Thank you, love.” He held out his hand.
Esmeralda didn’t take it. She shook her head reprovingly. “I’m not doing this just for you. Since taking that prize carrying the Madeira, we’ve sailed a crooked wake for two weeks. They were all so drunk I thought I might have to make sail myself. I lost a good topman one night…never did find out if he went over the side himself, or had help.” She paused, then added wryly, “I don’t like having my crew strewn around, half of them passed out, the others puking their guts up because they can’t control themselves.” It was Esmeralda’s turn to roll her eyes. “Men.”
Jack had been aboard Troubadour when Teague had taken a cargo of rum, once. He remembered very little of the next few weeks. He nodded cheerfully. “Typical specimens of the male sex, darling. I swear, you women can’t live with us, can’t throw us to the bloody sharks.”
They both laughed softly.
“Did you proof the rum?” she asked. “If it’s been watered, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Traders and pirates knew that the most reliable way to determine whether rum had been diluted with water was to mix equal parts of rum and powder (small amounts were preferable), then touch a match to it. If the rum had been diluted, the match would go out. If the rum was pure, the mixture would light and burn.
Jack grimaced at her, amused. “Love, this is me. Jack Sparrow. You can’t for an instant suppose I’d forget to test the ruddy rum?”
“There is that,” she said. “Very well, we have an agreement.” She smiled at him, her smile turning tentative, almost shy. “Oh, and one more thing…”
“Oh, no, we agreed to all the terms,” Jack reminded her.
She looked down, and he could see color stain her cheekbones. “I also require…that you join me for dinner tonight. My cabin. Row over to Venganza after the cargo has been transferred and we’ve ungrappled.”
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom Page 9