by Rob Kidd
Rrrrrrrrrrrr, his mother scolded.
The puppy’s head drooped. He looked down at his paws as if he was determined not to look at Jean anymore.
“If only we had some food!” said Jean.
“Aye, there you go, thinking of your stomach again—and at a time like this!” Barbossa growled.
“I meant for the puppy,” Jean objected.
“Oh,” Catastrophe Shane said from the floor. “Would something like this work?”
Jean turned slowly. Shane was holding out a croissant filled with bacon and cheese.
Jean’s face turned red. “Are you telling me,” he said, his voice rising, “that you’ve had that in your pocket this whole time? This whole time! While I was moaning about how starving I was! And you didn’t say anything! Where did you even get it?”
“Nabbed it from a street cart on the way here,” Shane said. “What? I forgot I had it. But I’m not going to eat it anyway. I’m a vegetarian.”
“A what?” Barbossa said. “Sounds like a disease. Is it contagious?”
“It just means I don’t eat meat,” Shane explained self-righteously.
Barbossa snorted. “A pretty bad disease, then.”
Jean snatched the croissant away from Shane. His hand trembled with hunger. He just wanted to stuff the food into his mouth and swallow it all before anyone else got their hands on it. But he couldn’t do that. They needed the croissant for bait.
He turned around and realized that the dogs were starting to move on to the next cell. The mother trotted off, and all the puppies smartly fell into line behind her. This was their last chance!
“Hsssssst!” he whispered frantically.
The smallest puppy, at the very end of the line, hesitated for a moment. Then, as his brothers and sisters scampered on ahead, he turned to give Jean an apologetic look.
But then Jean tossed him a piece of bacon.
The puppy’s ears went up. His nose went sniff, sniff, sniff. He took a couple of cautious steps toward Jean, then dropped his key and pounced on the bacon. In half a second, it was gone. The puppy licked his chops. He glanced down the hall, where his mother was vanishing around a corner. Then he came bounding over to Jean with his tail wagging.
“Oh, well done,” Barbossa said sarcastically, pointing to the key still lying out of reach on the floor, where the puppy had dropped it.
“Wait, wait,” Jean said, holding the food away from the dog. “Go get the key. Go on! Go get it!”
The puppy wagged his tail, staring up at the croissant.
“The key!” Jean said. He pointed. “Go get it! Fetch!”
Yip! the puppy yelped agreeably. He sat down and kept staring at the croissant.
Jean sighed and gave the puppy another small piece of bacon. “Now, go get the key,” he said.
More tail wagging. More staring.
Suffice to say, this took quite a while…and almost the entire croissant. But finally, Jean was able to convince the puppy to drag his key back to the cell. Barbossa reached through the bars and snatched it out of the puppy’s grasp. Jean sighed and fed the puppy the last scrap.
“Good dog,” he said. “More or less.”
The puppy wagged his tail and licked Jean’s fingers.
“You’ve probably ruined that dog for life,” Billy pointed out. “Now it’ll never be a proper prison dog like its brothers and sisters. It’ll always want to come over to check if the prisoners have any food for it.”
Jean felt guilty. He hadn’t thought about wrecking all the puppy’s training. He just wanted to escape from the cell!
Click!
“It worked!” Barbossa said in amazement. He’d managed to work the key through the bars, fit it into the lock, and turn it. The padlock sprang open. The door swung wide. They were free!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Discovering that their plan was successful made Jean feel much less guilty.
“Come on, Shane!” he said, hauling the hapless pirate to his feet. Barbossa and Billy were already out of the cell, searching the iron hooks along the corridor wall for keys to the other cells so they could free the rest of the crew. Jean and Catastrophe Shane hurried after them. They were halfway down the corridor when Jean felt something brush against his legs.
Thinking it was a horribly large insect, he jumped sideways. But when he looked down, he saw the puppy sitting at his feet, wagging its tail.
“Oh, no,” Jean said. “No, no. You stay here. With your family. I’m very busy escaping right now!” He turned to go, and the puppy bounced to its paws and followed him. “Puppy! Stay here!”
Nothing Jean said had any effect. The puppy stuck close to Jean’s boots all the way down the corridor as they opened cell after cell. They even opened cells that didn’t contain pirates. The scoundrels who leaped out and ran to freedom could be criminals of any kind. Barbossa hoped that in the madness of a full-scale prison escape, the guards would be less concerned with one particular gang of pirates.
Finally Jean got worried that the puppy would be accidentally trampled by the stampede of escaping prisoners. As they headed for the nearest stairs, Jean scooped the puppy up in his arms and ran, too.
They rounded the top of the stairs and burst into a courtyard. To everyone’s surprise, the courtyard was already teeming with pirates and guards, swords flashing in the moonlight as they fought.
“Chevalle’s pirates!” Billy exclaimed in surprise, recognizing the French style of pirate garb on the men around them.
“And Jack!” Jean cried, astonished to see his captain dancing through the battle toward them.
“That’s Captain Jack, remember!” Jack sang out, skillfully deflecting a knife that was aimed at his ribs. “’Allo, lads! I’m here to save the day…as usual, I might add.”
“So you decided to grace us with your presence,” Barbossa said snidely. “How lucky for us.”
“I know, isn’t it?” Jack said, completely missing the sarcasm. “Care to join in?” He pirouetted and whacked a guard over the head, then flipped another one into a pile of hay.
“We were escaping just fine without you,” Barbossa pointed out, but there was no more time for chitchat, as a trio of guards came sprinting at them. Jean stuffed the puppy into his shirt, hoping it would be all right there. It squirmed and wriggled and poked him a little with its claws, but eventually curled up and fell asleep against Jean’s chest while the pirate slashed about with his sword.
The pirates fought their way to the main prison gate, where Chevalle and four of his men were busy destroying the locks and the mechanism for lowering the portcullis.
“Zat ought to keep them busy!” Chevalle cried with relish as a long iron chain clattered to the ground. “I’d like to see them keep my men trapped in here now! Ha-ha!”
“Capitaine Chevalle,” Barbossa said gravely, tipping his hat to the French Pirate Lord. “I’m an admirer of your work. Your attempt to steal from that Swiss bank…it was truly inspired.”
“Why, merci beaucoup,” Chevalle said, preening. He looked Barbossa up and down. “What an elegant hat you have.”
Jack snorted and rolled his eyes. But Barbossa ignored this. “Merci, Chevalle,” he said. He tossed his head so the feathers swished through the air. “So nice to meet a Pirate Lord with…taste.”
As they leaped into battle side by side, Jack grumbled under his breath about how their blue ostrich feathers were bobbing ridiculously. If he hadn’t been so busy battling prison guards, he might have snuck up and sliced off a few more of them while Chevalle was distracted.
Jean found himself fighting back-to-back with Jack. He raised his sword to parry a thrust from a guard and felt the blow ricochet down his arm.
“Jack!” he cried through the sounds of battle. “How did you get Chevalle to help you rescue us?”
The French Pirate Lord overheard Jean. He raised his carefully manicured eyebrows. “You mean,” he said, firing his pistol into the crowd, “how did I get him to help moi ?”
> “Uh…really?” Jean said.
“Sure,” Jack said. Then he turned his head toward his other shoulder, so only Jean could hear him, and added, “Not really.”
“I had comrades to free!” Chevalle shouted, firing again. Jean realized the two French pirates behind the Pirate Lord had escaped from one of the cells in his corridor. “Jacques agreed to this detour so he could be of assistance.” Chevalle narrowed his eyes. “Of course, he neglected to mention that his own crew was also locked up here.”
“A fortuitous coincidence,” Jack said, waving one hand dismissively while the other was busy dueling an angry French guard.
Jean knew better. Nothing was a coincidence when Jack Sparrow was involved.
“We have to get back to the Pearl !” Jack cried. He booted the guard in the chest, sending him splashing into a water trough. “The Shadow Lord is ahead of us, Jean! He got to Chevalle first! We must beat him to the next Pirate Lord!”
Jean felt a momentary disappointment. Had Jack only come back for them because he needed someone to sail the Pearl so he could chase the Shadow Lord? And then he thought about what Jack had said, and his skin crawled. How had the Shadow Lord anticipated their next move? He glanced over at Catastrophe Shane, who was flailing about in such a violent and apparently purposeless manner that none of the guards would go anywhere near him. What if Jean’s spy theory was correct?
Should they leave Catastrophe Shane in Marseille?
He turned to tell Jack his theory, but Jack was already sprinting through the gate. “Come on!” he shouted back to his crew.
The pirates bolted after him. Guards staggered to their feet as the courtyard cleared. Some of the petty criminals were still there, nabbing watches and coins from the pockets of the unconscious men lying on the cobblestones.
The captain of the guard shouted for reinforcements. He left some of his men to round up the lesser criminals, and then he set off at a run with the rest of his squadron. He could not let the pirates get away! The Spanish nobleman had been very clear about that. He’d left in search of his daughter, but he’d promised to return for the sentencing and executions…and if the cells were empty of pirates when he did, the captain of the guard knew it would be a very bad day for everyone involved—most especially him.
Jack couldn’t help laughing at the sight of Chevalle sprinting along in his peculiar fancy shoes. But when Chevalle shot him a dirty look, Jack managed to look innocent, as if he’d been laughing at something else altogether.
He led the way as they all sprinted through the streets. It was the middle of the night, so hardly anyone was out, and most of the windows were dark. Jack could remember the way to the dock from the last time he’d escaped that particular prison. And whenever he wasn’t sure, he followed his nose. The smell of the sea, and more distinctively, the smell of many, many barrels of fish grew stronger and stronger as they ran toward the port.
Finally, they burst out of the narrow winding streets and found themselves at the dock. Jack didn’t even slow down. His boots pounded on the wood as he leaped onto the wharf where he had left his beloved ship.
“Jack, stop!” Jean shouted.
“Jack!” Billy called. “Wait!”
Jack refused to wait. He had already been away from his ship for too long. He missed the Pearl with every bit of his soul. Only a few more steps and he’d be on board again…a few more steps, and the thing that gave him his freedom would be under his feet once more.…
Jack skidded to a stop. He’d reached the end of the wharf. But that couldn’t be right.
He jogged backward, studying the gangplanks that he had raced past, wondering how he had missed the Pearl in the dark. Not that gangplank…no…certainly not…
The moon came out from behind a cloud, casting a silvery light over the seaside scene. Jack gasped. All the pirates behind him clattered to a stop, confused and dismayed. “It can’t be!” Jack sputtered. But it was. The Black Pearl was gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The brig in the dark underbelly of the Seref was uncomfortably cold and unpleasantly smelly. Carolina buried her nose in her sleeve and tried to breathe shallowly, rubbing her arms occasionally to keep them warm. Diego had fallen asleep—or lost consciousness again, she feared—with his head on her lap. Her legs ached, but she didn’t move. She didn’t want to disturb Diego’s rest, now that he finally seemed to be free of pain.
Carolina touched the plain wooden floor underneath her, wondering if the cold was coming up from the ocean and how thick the shell of the boat was. She wished they had anything, even some straw, to lie down on.
The ship’s curving walls were slightly damp, lit by a guttering candle stuck into a holder on the outside of the bars. Carolina had tried to study the lock by the light of the candle when they were first thrown into the brig, but she didn’t know anything about lock picking, and in any case, it wasn’t as if there was anywhere they could go if they did get out of the brig…other than straight into the Mediterranean Sea, of course.
Still, her mind went around and around in circles, trying to formulate an escape plan. There had to be something she could do. Perhaps she could convince Ammand to let Diego go—he wouldn’t fetch nearly as high a reward as the princess herself.
A soft noise in the dark hold made her sit up straight. It sounded bigger than a rat. Was there someone else creeping around down here?
Then she saw the flicker of a candle coming toward the brig. She reached for her sword and remembered that Ammand had confiscated it. There was nothing else to defend herself with in the small cell. Carolina set her jaw, ready to fight with her bare hands.
But the figure that appeared at the cell door was not one of the Barbary corsairs. He was a lithe, blue-eyed young man with a worried expression. Carolina recognized him as the sailor Captain Hawk had called Tim.
“Are you all right?” Tim whispered. “Here—I brought you some blankets.” He pushed some thick woolen fabric through the bars.
Carolina gently lifted Diego’s head off her lap and crept to the door. Her fingers trembled with cold as she wrapped one of the blankets around herself and spread the other one over Diego.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s Tim, right?”
“Tim Hawk,” said the young man. “Captain Hawk is my uncle. He was worried about you, but he couldn’t get away from Ammand, so he sent me.”
“Your uncle?” Carolina said. “Is the rest of your family on board, too?”
Tim shook his head. “My parents were killed by a pirate many years ago. My cousin, the captain’s son, was sailing with us, but he fell overboard near Barbados a few months ago. We’re still hoping to find him again one day.”
“I’m sorry,” Carolina said. “You must hate pirates, then.”
“Only some of them,” Tim said. He grinned. “I’ve met a couple that weren’t so terrible. Er…not these corsairs, though, I’m afraid.”
“What is Ammand going to do with us?” Carolina asked, wrapping her hands around the iron bars.
“He sent a message to the Spanish already, arranging a meeting,” Tim said glumly. “We’re heading straight to the rendezvous. Ammand’s not even stopping to drop us off first.”
Carolina fought back tears. “Is there any way you can get us out of here?” She tugged on the lock, but it was solid as diamonds.
“I’m sorry.” Tim shook his head. “I would if I could.” He paused. “Did I hear that you were sailing with Jack Sparrow?”
“Captain Jack Sparrow,” Carolina said, feeling another pang of guilt for abandoning her captain in Marseille.
Tim chuckled. “Yes, Captain Jack. I met him once, several years ago. Is he still quite insane?”
Carolina nodded, smiling.
“He helped me escape quite a horrible sorceress.” Tim patted Carolina’s hand encouragingly. “Maybe he’ll come save you, too.”
Not after we abandoned him, Carolina thought. And it serves me right. For all I know, he’s trapped in a French pris
on right now.
Tim saw the sad look on her face. “Can I do anything for you?” he asked. “More blankets? Maybe some food?”
“Don’t get in trouble on our account,” Carolina said. Then she had a thought. “Wait, actually—there is one thing you can do. But only if you can do it without getting caught.”
“What’s that?”
“Ammand has a vial tucked into his waist sash,” Carolina said. She described the Shadow Gold to Tim. “If you can get that away from him, then maybe the Shadow Lord won’t find it. Then we can hang on to it for Jack—well, you can, if you don’t mind. I don’t know when I’ll be seeing Jack again…or anyone but my family and my least trustworthy ladies-in-waiting.” She sighed.
Tim looked confused, but he nodded. “All right. I’ll try.”
“Be careful,” Carolina said, catching his hand. “There are some very dangerous people who want that vial.”
“Including Jack Sparrow!” Tim said with another small laugh. “Don’t worry—if I can get my hands on it, I’ll keep it safe.”
He crept off into the dark, and Carolina went back to sitting beside Diego. Her heart was still heavy with despair at the thought of going back to San Augustin and marrying the cruel old governor. But she felt a glimmer of hope for Jack. If his old friend Tim Hawk could protect the Shadow Gold for him…maybe there was still a chance of stopping the Day of the Shadow.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“How dare they!” Jack raged, stamping up and down on the wharf. “Who would take my ship? Who would dare?”
“Uh, maybe the same people who dared to arrest you,” Barbossa suggested with a sneer.
Jack didn’t appreciate the suggestion. He glowered at Barbossa. “If there are East India Trading Company agents sullying my ship at this very moment, then I promise you I will cut off the hands that dared touch the Pearl.” He shoved his hat back on his head and glanced at Billy. “How was that? Gruesome and piratey, wasn’t it? I think I’m getting the hang of this.”