Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom

by A. C. Crispin

She didn’t speak or move, but she knew she couldn’t fool him into thinking she was still asleep.

  “Ayisha?”

  She couldn’t decide what to do. Speak to him? She didn’t want to. But not seeing him was a thought that held its own terror.

  Footsteps approached, and she heard a muffled thump as he knelt down by the bunk. Jack stayed that way for long moment, then he said, “I can tell you’re awake. What’s wrong? Where does it hurt? Should I fetch Esmeralda’s surgeon?”

  The thought of that was enough to rouse her. Ayisha turned onto her back, and spoke. Her voice felt rusty, because her mouth was so dry. “No, no. I will be fine, Jack. Thank you. I am simply…tired.”

  He raised his hand and touched her forehead, then her cheek. “You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

  He had touched her. Her heart leaped, then sank. “I don’t have a fever. I am just tired.”

  Jack sat down, cross-legged, beside her bunk. She’d seen him when he was tired, or bored, or excited, or amused, or drunk—but she’d never before seen him look stricken and guilty. Her heart contracted. What had she said to produce that?

  “Why do you look like that?” she asked.

  “This is my fault,” he muttered.

  Ayisha sat up, then turned and sat opposite him, also cross-legged. “How could my being tired be your fault? It’s not your fault.”

  “If my plan had worked, we wouldn’t have run aground, love. But like a bloody fool, I waited too long to drop the anchor. So we grounded on that shoal. And there wasn’t a thing I could do to save my ship, then. You saved her, though. But it nearly killed you to do it. I saw you, afterward. You might have died. And now you’re ill. My fault.”

  It is your fault, Ayisha thought, but not in the way you think. I’ve fallen in love with you, and I shouldn’t have. I have to go back to Zerzura. I have responsibilities. I’m a princess. And you’re a commoner. Except you aren’t, Jack Sparrow. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I never will again. And after we reach Zerzura, you’ll sail away, not caring, never knowing, and I’ll stay there, and…and…

  She found her voice. “No, Jack. It wasn’t your fault. I took a risk, and it worked. I was saving my brother and myself. And Tarek. And it’s not like I sacrificed myself. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Despite her best efforts, a tear broke free, and ran down her cheek. Ayisha hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Yes,” she said, steadily. “I’m sure. Casting the spell tired me, naturally, but I will be—”

  “If you’re fine, why are you crying?” he interrupted, albeit quietly. He put his hand up to her cheek, cupping it gently, then used his thumb to wipe away the little bit of moisture. The tenderness of the gesture completely undid her. She stared at him wordlessly.

  “You were so brave,” he said. “To climb up there in the middle of a battle, armed with nothing but a candle and some thread, with that sloop coming around for a broadside. I know how to fight, when I can’t avoid it. But I’ve never done anything like that.”

  Ayisha looked down, leaning her cheek into his hand a little bit, then shook her head. “I’m not brave,” she whispered. I can’t even face my own feelings, without hiding away, ashamed and terrified.

  “Yes, you are.” Jack smiled slightly. “I promised myself that as soon as you were feeling better, I’d find you, and thank you from the bottom of me heart, most humbly, for saving me ship. So, thank you, darlin’.” Then he leaned forward, and some instinct told her he was going to give her a chaste, grateful kiss on the cheek, or possibly the forehead. She moved her head at the last possible moment, and his mouth touched hers, instead.

  Ayisha was not in the best shape for her first kiss. Her lips and mouth were dry, and she was weak with hunger. But after the first moment, she forgot all about that. She wasn’t really sure how one kissed back, but she relaxed her mouth slightly, and that seemed to work.

  After a long, sweet moment, Jack drew away. He let his hand fall. He looked a bit dazed, which Ayisha could well understand, because she felt the same way.

  Her hand flew up, two fingers covering her lips, to keep his kiss there, on her lips, as though it might somehow slide off. She was determined not to lose it. Jack misinterpreted her gesture; he ducked his head, chagrined. “I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Ayisha let her hand drop into her lap. “Why did you do it? And why shouldn’t you have?” She thought for a second. “And what should I do about it?”

  He smiled. “That’s a lot of questions.”

  “Take them one at a time, then.”

  “Right.” He raised three fingers, then bent one down. “First, I did it because you’re a pretty girl, and I’m a man. Most men want to kiss pretty girls that they…like, and, um, care about. Especially if the pretty girl gets within kissing range. We don’t always do it, obviously, but the impulse is there.”

  She nodded, intent on his words.

  He bent the second finger down. “Second, I shouldn’t have, because, even though you’re a pretty girl, and I’ve rather wanted to do that for quite a while now, you’re a princess, Your Highness, and if I’d done that when we were on Kerma, and your brother was so inclined, I suspect he could have me head chopped off for taking such a liberty with his sister.”

  Ayisha nodded again. She could imagine her father’s reaction to such a liberty.

  Jack bent down the third finger. “Third, if you were an English girl from a noble or royal family, you’d probably be expected to slap the tar out of me, for presuming like that. Even if you were from a poor family, if you didn’t like me, and didn’t like what I’d done, that’s probably what you’d do.”

  “I should slap you?” She stared at him.

  “I’m afraid so, love.”

  “Have you been slapped before, is that how you know all this?”

  Jack shrugged, then sighed and nodded. “Yep. It’s happened before. More than a few times, actually.”

  “Oh.” Obediently, Ayisha raised her hand. Jack seemed to brace himself, but he made no effort to turn away, or shield his face.

  Ayisha leaned forward, and brought her right hand up to his face, then she patted it, feeling the roughness of stubble beneath her fingers and palm. She smiled at him. “There you go, Jack. Consider yourself slapped.”

  Jack laughed out loud, then he caught her hand and held it against his cheek. “Thanks, love. Best slap I ever got.”

  They smiled at each other, then she pointed to the jug sitting on the crate that passed for a table, and said, “Please pass me that.”

  He did, and she drank the watered ale gratefully.

  “Actually, love, I came down here to deliver a message. I didn’t know you were under the weather until I met Tarek up on the weather deck. So you may not be feeling up to going anywhere, but if you are, Esmeralda would like you to come over to her ship to dine with her. She’s got an excellent cook.”

  Ayisha stared at him. What should she say? She found herself possessed of a great curiosity regarding the lady pirate. And anything was better than lying here on her bunk, feeling as though she wanted to die.

  She nodded. “I don’t have anything to wear, but I suppose she would understand that.”

  “She would, yes. She’s a real lady. You’ll like her,” he said, but there was a note in his voice that made her wonder how much he believed that himself.

  “I’ll go,” she said. “Let me comb my hair and pin it up, and get my shawl, and I’ll come up on deck.”

  “Good!” Jack said.

  “Oh, and Jack?”

  “Yes?”

  “Tell me what you’ve told her. I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

  He gave her an approving look. “Brave and smart,” he said. “I adore competent women. I told the same tale I told the crew, about you being a ‘Kermalayan.’”

  “Does she know about…this?” She waved the shawl.

  “She does,” he said. “You might want to keep your sha
wl on until the two of you are alone in her cabin. But you can certainly show Esmeralda your true face.”

  “Very well. Thank you for passing along the message, Jack.”

  When she reached the weather deck, a boat was waiting for her, with one of Venganza’s crewmen at the oars. Ayisha regarded the climb down the Wench’s boarding ladder dubiously, but she managed to hike her skirt up and do it, then step in and sit down without overturning the craft. In just a few minutes, they drew up beside the other ship.

  At that point she had to climb back up Venganza’s boarding ladder, but she’d gotten the hang of it, and going up proved to be easier than climbing down.

  The first mate, Luis Montoya, met her, introduced himself in accented English, and then courteously escorted her to the captain’s cabin.

  Ayisha stepped inside the cabin, and looked around in wonder. It was much different from Jack’s cabin. For one thing, the colors were tasteful, not garish. Beautiful rugs lay on the deck, and several tapestries hung on the walls. The furniture was antique, ornate, and polished to a mellow glow.

  Lady Esmeralda was seated at her table, writing something, possibly a letter. She looked up as Ayisha entered, smiled, then held up one finger, signaling that she needed just a second to finish a task. Ayisha waited, and the lady folded the document, dripped wax onto the outside to seal it, and pressed it with a ring she wore.

  Then she rose from her chair, smiled, and curtsied. “Your Highness. Welcome to Venganza.” She waved at the other chair. “Will you sit?”

  Ayisha smiled shyly, and inclined her head. “Thank you, Lady Esmeralda.”

  She walked over to the table and sat down, her shawl still around her shoulders.

  The Spanish woman was wearing what Ayisha recognized, from her time among foreigners in Calabar, to be a simple afternoon frock. It was made of printed cotton, white with small green flowers, and had decorative green buttons. White crocheted lace accented the edge of the bodice, and there were rows of lace rimming the three-quarter length sleeves.

  Ayisha smiled. “That is a pretty gown.”

  “Jack tells me you are an expert seamstress, Your Highness.”

  “Please, call me Ayisha.”

  “Then you must call me Esmeralda.”

  Lady Esmeralda checked the clock on her wall, and rose. “We have a little time before dinner will be served. Before I offer you wine, I have something to show you. Follow me, please?”

  Ayisha followed the lady out of her cabin, and they descended ladders to the hold of her ship. It seemed to be filled with cargo. At the edge of the cargo area, there were perhaps twenty large, flattened cylinders wrapped in protective material that the princess recognized immediately as bolts of cloth. The tops had been opened, so the fabric itself was visible.

  “I took a ship not long ago that had a cargo of fabric,” Esmeralda said. “Jack told me what happened to you, how you were captured by slavers, and thus have only the clothes on your back. When he said that, I realized I could help. So, Ayisha, please, choose whatever you would like to have from these bolts. Tomorrow Venganza and the Wicked Wench set sail for Savannah, where his ship can receive proper repairs. They have a large seaport there, and an EITC office. I plan to escort the Wench for a day or two, until we are sure all the temporary repairs are holding.” Esmeralda smiled, and waved at the cloth. “So, while you are sailing north, you can be sewing, perhaps?”

  Ayisha smiled. “Thank you! You could offer me nothing better, Lady. I am so tired of this dress!”

  “Small wonder, my dear! Choose whatever you need, and as many yards as you need. We’ll take your choices to my cabin, and you can cut off what you’d like to take. I’ll have it delivered to the Wicked Wench.”

  Ayisha began wandering amid the bolts of cloth, eyeing the fabric, wondering what would be best. She could sew new clothes for her brother, and Tarek too. Finding a bolt of white linen, she pounced on it. “This one. I can make clothes for our homecoming from this.”

  Esmeralda beckoned to a young crewman, who had been standing there so quietly Ayisha hadn’t noticed him. He picked up the bolt, and took it over to place by the ladder leading up from the hold.

  Ayisha fingered the wonderful fabric on several bolts of silk. She pointed to the white one. “I can make something to sleep in with the white silk,” she said. “And then the white cotton, for petticoats and drawers—and shirts for my brother and Tarek.”

  Each time she indicated a bolt, the young crewman removed it and stacked it near the ladder.

  “That’s enough white,” the princess murmured. “Perhaps I should pick out a color?”

  “You are not used to wearing colors?” Esmeralda asked, curiously.

  “My people decorate their clothes with color, but the basic fabric is usually white linen,” Ayisha said. She tugged loose a swath of crimson silk. “What do you think, Esmeralda?”

  “Lovely, for evening wear,” the lady said. “For a young woman like you, I would temper the drama of the red by using it judiciously. A white underskirt and bodice, trimmed with white lace. If you wished to, you could embroider the white panels with some red. Lots of white lace ruffles. And some white lace overlay on the red silk.”

  “Very complicated,” Ayisha murmured. “Difficult to visualize.”

  “I have some dresses you can look at for ideas.”

  “I would love that.”

  With a decisive motion, Ayisha added the crimson silk to the pile. Then she chose some cotton prints, green with yellow, pale gray with small blue figures, and rose with pale green. “Cool, for dresses when it is hot.”

  Ayisha hesitated over a bolt of gold satin, then put it back. “I would have nowhere to wear that.” She did choose a bolt of heavier weight brown fabric, and a similar one of dark gray, then another of dark blue. “I can use these to make britches for my brother and Tarek. And everyday coats or waistcoats.”

  She stood and brushed off the skirt of her dress. “That’s all.”

  “Are you sure?” The lady pirate laughed a little. “They cost me nothing.”

  “I am sure,” Ayisha said.

  The two women went back to the captain’s cabin. When they reached it, Ayisha, without comment, left her shawl hung near the door. She saw Esmeralda’s eyes widen, then the older woman simply nodded, but said nothing. The lady pirate walked around to stand beside her. “You’re quite a bit taller than I am, now.”

  Ayisha nodded.

  Esmeralda raised her skirts a bit, and extended her right foot. “Let me see your foot, dear.”

  Mystified, Ayisha raised her own skirt and extended her foot. Esmeralda nodded. “I think I have a pair that will do.” She rummaged through a sea chest, then returned with a pair of shoes that looked fairly new. The heels were low, and they were plain in design. “I bought these, but they are a bit large on me. Try them on.”

  Ayisha slid her feet into the shoes. She’d never worn shoes like this before. On Kerma, she had worn sandals, and then as a slave, she’d always gone barefoot. Moving cautiously, she walked around the cabin, gradually getting used to the shoes. “If you think you can wear them, please keep them, dear.”

  “Thank you!”

  After going through some of Esmeralda’s gowns so Ayisha could see the designs, they sat down to have a glass of wine. There was a knock on the door, followed by the appearance of a young crewman who brought in a large tray with covered dishes.

  Ayisha was famished; she had eaten little since yesterday. The meal was, as Jack had promised, far superior to anything that had ever been prepared by the Wicked Wench’s cook. She enjoyed the bits of beef, cooked in a savory, somewhat spicy sauce. The beef was served with flavored rice, some unfamiliar type of greens, and yams, which she knew all too well. Still, they were mashed, and drizzled with honey, and she ate every bit.

  While they ate, Esmeralda talked about fashion, and some of the clothing she had seen worn in the court of Spain. Ayisha listened, nodded, and encouraged her to talk.

&n
bsp; The last course was fruit, served with nuts and a delicious white cheese Esmeralda called manchego. The lady served it with a moderately sweet dessert wine.

  Ayisha sipped it, and eyed her hostess. “This,” she said, gesturing at the remains of the repast, “was wonderful. I have not had food like this for…” She had to think. “Nearly nine months. Thank you very much for your hospitality, Esmeralda.”

  “You are most welcome, Ayisha. Is that your real name, by the way?”

  “Um, no. I gave a false name when I was taken. I was afraid that the slavers would try to make my people pay an exorbitant ransom. Is Esmeralda your real name?”

  “It is, actually. Although Spanish names, particularly for the nobility, tend to be very long. One can grow tired, just trying to say them all in one breath.”

  They laughed. Esmeralda poured herself some more wine, then topped off the princess’s glass.

  Ayisha picked up an almond, then put it back on her plate. “So how long have you known Captain Sparrow?” she asked, trying to make the question casual.

  Esmeralda smiled, and Ayisha had the feeling that she hadn’t fooled the Spanish pirate for a moment. “I’ve known him off and on for five years. We actually met as children, briefly, but that did not go well. I beat him up, I fear.”

  Ayisha gasped, then nearly snorted with laughter. She managed to turn it into a giggle. “You didn’t!”

  “I did. He was nine, and I had just turned fifteen. So I had an advantage in both height and weight—at that time.”

  “He’s an interesting man,” the princess said.

  “A gross understatement, my dear. Jack is an absolutely fascinating man. You’re unlikely to meet anyone else like him.”

  Ayisha nodded. “He has a lot of faults,” she ventured. “He drinks too much.”

  “Another understatement. But he’s always been like that, ever since I knew him. Lots of rum, lots of women. That’s Jack for you.”

  “He has awful taste. That cabin…”

  Esmeralda rolled her eyes. Both women burst out laughing.

  The lady pirate refilled both their glasses. “My dear, Jack is absolutely riddled with faults. There are times when I’ve thought seriously of shooting him the next time I see him. But I never do.…”