Wild Waters

by Rob Kidd

  “This will never work,” Jocard rumbled. “Real pirates don’t attack from land. No one’s ever tried to get to Samuel’s fort through the jungle before—and that’s for a reason. It’s impossible!”

  “Precisely why he won’t be expecting it,” Jack said jauntily. “Nothing’s impossible, Jocard! Except getting Grandmama to shut up, of course. Thank heaven we’re finally getting away from her!”

  “Ahahaha!” Jack jumped as the old lady’s cackle echoed over the bay. Grandmama stumped onto the dock with her cane, dressed in the strangest old-fashioned pirate outfit any of them had ever seen. An oversize lime green frock coat came down to her knees. A bright purple bandanna peeked out from under a floppy black hat. Dark blue pants were bunched up and wrinkled over black leather boots. Her long white shirt was bursting with lacy frills, and the small ruby gleamed from her false teeth.

  “Getting away from me, eh?” she crowed, poking Jack’s stomach with the end of her cane. “Is that what you think? Not on your life, sonny boy! I’m comin’ with you, I am! You need a real pirate on this mission, you do!”

  “Oh, yes?” Jack said. “You mean you? Someone who’s just as likely to stab me in the back as any of the folks we’re fighting?”

  “Exactly,” Grandmama said. “A real pirate!”

  “No.” Jack groaned. “You can’t come with us! We’ll be hiking through miles of jungle! It’s no trip for a—er, for a—” The baleful glare on Grandmama’s face warned him off finishing that sentence. “For an exceptionally fit and attractive old pirate?” he tried instead.

  A clatter of boots sounded on the Ranger’s gangplank, and they turned to see a strikingly tall woman striding toward them. Her bronze skin glowed and her long, dark hair was thick and lustrous as Carolina’s. She beamed at Jocard with perfect white teeth.

  “Ah, Sarah,” Jocard said. “Jack, I want you to meet my betrothed. Sarah is going to lead us through the jungle, as she grew up around these parts and knows the area well. She comes from a wealthy Portuguese family—it will be a fortunate alliance for me indeed.” He put his arm around Sarah and she tipped her hat to Jack’s crew with a superior smile.

  “Betrothed!” Marcella gasped from behind Carolina. “Her! Betrothed! To you!” She shook her head, recovering from the shock. “What, someone actually agreed to marry you?” she sniped at Jocard. Before he could answer, she hurried on. “Well, that’s just fine! Nobody even cares! I don’t know why you’re even telling us, because it’s not like anyone wants to know! You’ll make a stupid husband anyway!”

  Carolina stared at Marcella in surprise, and Sarah obviously was about to make a cutting retort, when Grandmama suddenly threw off her coat, let out a bloodcurdling scream, hurtled across the dock, and tackled Sarah.

  Everyone yelled in alarm as the two women plummeted over the side and into the water. An enormous splash soaked all the pirates on the dock.

  “Sarah!” Jocard shouted. “Quick! Somebody help her!”

  “Grandmama!” Jack shouted. “Quick! Somebody drown her!”

  It was hard to see what was happening with all the splashing and shrieking coming from the bay, but it looked like Grandmama was trying to drag Sarah under and tear out her hair at the same time.

  Sarah was fighting back furiously, knocking the old lady’s hat off and struggling to get away. She managed to lunge toward the dock, but then Grandmama caught her arm and sank her teeth into Sarah’s wrist.

  “OW!” Sarah howled, lashing out with her legs. She kicked Grandmama square in the stomach and knocked her loose, but before she could grab Jocard’s outstretched hand, Grand-mama wrapped her bony arms around Sarah’s waist, heaved in a deep breath, and dragged her below the surface of the water.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Jocard roared, throwing off his coat and boots. But a few others were ahead of him: splash after splash sounded as Diego, Marcus, and Carolina all dove into the water to intervene.

  It was a ferocious (and very wet) battle, but finally Carolina and Diego were able to haul Grandmama away from Sarah long enough for Marcus to heave Jocard’s fiancée back onto the dock. Sarah stood next to Jocard, dripping and panting with exhaustion, and they both glared down at Grandmama, who was still kicking and flailing in the water even though Carolina and Diego had a firm grip on each of her arms.

  “You’re a madwoman!” Sarah yelled. Her voice was rich and deep with a Portuguese accent. “Why would you attack a total stranger? What is wrong with you?”

  “HAH!” Grandmama shouted, then sputtered as a wave of water swamped over her head. “I know you! I never forget a face, Teresa!

  You think you can sneak past me! Hah!”

  Sarah looked utterly baffled. “I have no idea who this ‘Teresa’ is,” she said to Jocard, pulling her long wet hair back and wringing it out. “This old woman must be senile.”

  “I’ll show you senile!” Grandmama howled, nearly punching Diego in the nose as she waved her fists around. “I remember the day we met! It was right after you gave birth to that blackguard Samuel! I saw what a wretched little monster he’d be—I saw it in his eyes the minute he was born! And having a mother like you didn’t help!”

  The pirates on the dock exchanged puzzled and amused glances.

  “Um, Grandmama,” Jack said politely, “far be it from me to contradict you…but this Samuel fellow is at least thirty-five years old. There’s no way our new friend Sarah here could be his mother.”

  “What?” Grandmama stopped splashing for a moment and took a long look at Sarah.

  The Portuguese woman tossed her head. “All right, yes. My family is distantly related to the mother of this ‘King Samuel.’ But she was thrown out of the family long ago and died while Samuel was young. I have never met her, and none of my relatives ever speak of her.”

  “It’s true,” Jocard said with a nod. “Sarah told me all this already. She has spent time in Samuel’s fort—which is what makes her the perfect guide for our invasion.”

  “Oh,” Grandmama said. “I see. Very well, then.” She wrenched her arms out of Carolina and Diego’s grasps and adjusted her bandanna. In a moment she had climbed back onto the dock with her strong, wrinkled arms and was standing in a puddle of water, glaring defiantly around at everyone. “Well?” she snapped. “Don’t we have a fortress to attack? Come on, you lazy layabouts!” She snatched her coat from where she’d dropped it and marched off toward the jungle, head held high.

  “Well,” Jean said, helping Carolina and Diego up as the other pirates hurried after Grandmama, “that was certainly exciting.”

  “Every day with Grandmama is a new adventure,” Jack said with a toothy grin. “Just don’t ever touch her cane, or you’ll end up much better acquainted with it than you would like. Consider yourselves warned.” He made an ominous, wide-eyed face, and then galloped after the others.

  Carolina noticed that Marcella had gone ahead with the pirates instead of waiting for Diego, even though she had insisted on coming along because she “couldn’t be parted for a minute from my dear Diego!” She looked down at her wet friend with a thoughtful expression.

  Diego shook his head and sighed. “I just hope the rest of the mission is nowhere near as ‘exciting’ as this!”

  “Oh, sure,” Jean said. “What are the chances of that?”

  Not far away, across a stretch of sparkling blue ocean, the pale figure of Benedict Huntington strode across the deck of the Peacock, tapping a long hunting crop against his white trousers. One sailor didn’t scurry out of his way fast enough, and Benedict struck him across the face with the crop, sending the man away howling.

  “McTavish!” Benedict shouted. His first mate, a wiry man covered in freckles from head to toe, came running from the wheel and saluted. Roland McTavish was smart and capable and a good navigator, but most important, he was an excellent toady. He knew better than anyone how to say “Yes, sir!” and “Absolutely, sir!” and “What a marvelous idea, sir!” to Captain Huntington, which was how he had la
sted so long in his position.

  “Yes, sir!” he barked.

  “Make sail for the fort of King Samuel,” Benedict said, handing Roland a rolled-up chart. “It’s on the western coast of Madagascar.”

  “Aye-aye, sir!” McTavish said with another salute. “May I ask a question, sir?”

  Benedict’s cold, pale blue eyes bored into his. “Only if it doesn’t annoy me.”

  McTavish gulped. “Just wondering, sir—why it is we’re not going to Libertalia anymore?”

  With a smirk on his face, Benedict patted his vest pocket. “Let’s just say I have inside information about where the pirates will be next—and it’s King Samuel’s fort. Understand?”

  “Absolutely, sir!” McTavish saw Benedict’s wife coming and hurriedly backed away. Barbara scared him even more than Benedict; he had frequent nightmares in which she decided to slit the throats of the entire crew on a whim. The horrible thing was, he believed she could easily do it in real life.

  “So,” Barbara said, watching Roland trot off, “what are you going to tell Samuel when we get there?”

  “That I have lucrative business ideas to discuss with him about our mutual interests in the trade routes around the Indian Ocean,” Benedict said smoothly.

  Barbara’s perfect eyebrows went up. “You’re not going to tell him about the attack coming from inland?”

  His smile made him look like an albino cobra planning his next meal. “And miss the opportunity to watch pirates tear each other apart? By no means. Nor do I want to explain where my information is coming from. But most of all, I want Jack Sparrow to get inside the fort.”

  “You do?” Barbara said, surprised. “But what about the letter from the Shadow Lord? Didn’t he specifically ask you to keep the two Pirate Lords apart?”

  “Ah, don’t you worry about that. Jack Sparrow will be dead long before he reaches King Samuel.” Benedict licked his lips hungrily. “I want to be there waiting for him.” His voice dropped to a chilling growl. “I want to kill him myself.”

  “Oooooh,” Barbara said, her green eyes glittering. “You’re right…that does sound like a lot more fun.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Who knew, Jack Sparrow thought to himself as he traipsed through the sweltering jungle of Madagascar, that there were quite so many insects in the world? He slapped away another mosquito and jumped to avoid a large flying beetle of some sort. As he flailed his hands, he accidentally whapped Barbossa’s hat and nearly knocked it off his head. Barbossa turned to scowl horribly at him over his bandage, and Jack reacted with exaggerated horror.

  “Oh, sorry, Hector,” he said. “I forgot about the old nose there—didn’t recognize you for a minute. Thought perhaps ghouls were rising out of the ground to attack us.”

  “I don’t sense any dead bodies underfoot,” Alex said gravely, shuffling through the underbrush behind Jack. “Doubtful that ghouls could rise here, Captain Jack Sparrow.”

  “I didn’t know zombies could sense corpses,” Carolina said, regarding him with curiosity.

  “Ew,” Marcella said. “You’re all so GROSS! Stop talking about corpses RIGHT NOW.” She elbowed her way forward until she was right behind Sarah and Jocard, who were leading the way through the jungle. They’d been walking for half a day already, stopping only for water. Sarah moved quickly and silently, as did Jocard and his men. Jack’s crew…not so much.

  Catastrophe Shane tripped over another tree root and let out a howl of agony as he crashed to the jungle floor.

  “Shhh!” Sarah hissed, whipping around with a finger to her lips. “You never know if King Samuel might have decided to post guards on this side. We have to be very careful!”

  “Why’d you let him come, anyway?” Diego asked Jack as he helped Shane to his feet.

  “He was complaining that he never got to go on any of the missions,” Jack said with a shrug. “Besides, he offered to carry my luggage.” He waved at the large sack Shane was hauling over one shoulder.

  “Luggage? On a battle mission?” Barbossa snorted. “Typical.”

  “You never know when you might get hungry,” Jack pointed out. “Oooh, look, a banana!” He pulled a long yellow fruit off a nearby tree and started peeling it. Jean’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

  “Jean’s stomach growled loudly. “Wow. I’m going to find something to eat, too!” He looked around at the trees as they began walking again and rubbed his empty stomach.

  While they were talking, Carolina was watching Marcella. Jean’s cousin had been stealthily busy while the other pirates stood still, glaring at Catastrophe Shane. She had drawn a long loop of vine out of her skirt—obviously something she’d been hiding for a while. She had carefully tossed it right in front of Sarah’s feet…so that once they started walking again, Sarah stepped right into it. The loop closed over her ankle, and she tripped and fell with a huge thud.

  “SHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Marcella scolded her loudly. “Jeez, Sarah, how ungraceful are you? Plus, like, totally a hypocrite! You’re the loudest one of all! Right? Am I right?” She glanced sideways at Jocard, but he was hurrying to Sarah’s side and didn’t seem to notice Marcella’s tirade.

  “Are you all right?” he asked Sarah.

  “I’m fine,” she said, glaring daggers at Marcella. Her eyes softened as she looked up at Jocard. “But perhaps I should rest this ankle for a moment. Would you mind carrying me, darling?”

  “Not at all,” Jocard said, scooping her up in his strong arms.

  It was hard to miss the triumphant expression Sarah shot at Marcella over Jocard’s shoulder. Carolina twisted her hair around one finger thoughtfully as Marcella stomped to the back of the group again, obviously fuming.

  “Heh-heh-heh,” Grandmama cackled, thwacking branches aside with her cane. “Pirate men never change, do they? Oblivious as always!” She gave Carolina a wicked look. “Of course, some pirate women aren’t very observant, either.”

  Carolina blushed. She could guess what Grandmama was talking about—Diego hadn’t taken his eyes off her all day. It was much easier to notice now that Marcella wasn’t throwing herself on him nonstop. Apparently, she had chosen someone else to torment, for her own mysterious Marcella reasons.

  “Hey, Jean,” Carolina said, avoiding Grandmama’s eyes. The curly-headed pirate had come back from a bush stuffing something in his mouth. “What did you find to eat?”

  “I dunno,” he said, holding out a handful of purple berries. “But they’re delici—urk!” He grabbed his throat, choking.

  “Jean!” Carolina cried. She thumped him on the back. “Jean, are you okay?”

  “Jean!” Marcella shrieked, grabbing him around the waist. His choking noises got worse.

  Sarah dropped out of Jocard’s arms and came running back to them. “What is it?” she asked. “What did he eat?”

  Carolina showed her the berries, and Sarah frowned worriedly.

  “Oh, no!” Marcella wailed. “He’s going to die! I’m going to be left all alone with horrible pirates in a horrible, smelly jungle!”

  “He’s not going to die,” Sarah snapped. “But these berries do have…unusual side effects.”

  Jean suddenly lunged upright and froze, his hands outstretched in front of him. Carolina gasped as she saw his face. His eyes were rolled back in his head so only the whites were showing. All the color had drained from his cheeks, making his freckles stand out like dark spots of blood on snow.

  “The Day of the Shadow is coming,” he murmured in a spooky voice that sounded nothing like his normal, cheerful one.

  A shiver ran down Jack’s spine. “Come again?” he said, hoping he’d heard wrong.

  “The Day of the Shadow…it draws closer and closer…” Jean said softly. “The Day of the Shadow will be here soon.”

  “What is he talking about?” Marcella asked, her eyes wide and frightened. “Jean, stop it! Stop teasing! Act normal!”

  “He can’t help it,” Sarah said. “These berries give people visions of t
he future.” She crushed them in her fist and dropped them on the ground. “He was foolish to eat them. Leave him here or carry him with us—he’ll be like this for hours.”

  She spun and strode ahead through the trees. Carolina noticed that her ankle seemed to be just fine. “And hurry!” Sarah called over her shoulder. “We must be ready to attack King Samuel’s fort at dawn, when the decoy ship is launched!”

  “Hustle bustle, hurry flurry,” Jack muttered.

  “Your cousin will be all right,” Jocard said kindly, patting Marcella’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Marcella.”

  “Like you know anything!” Marcella retorted, but he was already turning away to catch up with Sarah.

  “Visions of the future?” Jack echoed. “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. Hey, Jean lad, tell me—how soon will I make my first million doubloons? Or, I know—have my pretty lass friends back in Tortuga forgotten about me yet? Or how about this—where can I find the best rum, eh?”

  “He’s not a crystal ball,” Marcella snapped as Diego and Alex awkwardly draped Jean’s arms over their shoulders and dragged him forward.

  “Betrayal,” Jean whispered, turning his unseeing eyes toward Jack. “Betrayal awaits you.…”

  “Uh-oh,” Jack said, looking alarmed. “Not good.”

  “I see an island,” Jean went on. “You’re alone on an island with buried rum, lots of rum.…”

  Jack’s face lit up. “Much better!” he declared. “Not bad at all! Er—how much rum, exactly?”

  “The Day of the Shadow is coming,” Jean said again, and his head lolled to the side. Diego staggered as Jean’s weight sagged against his shoulder.

  “He’s talking about the Shadow Lord,” Carolina said to Jack. “He must be! The Day of the Shadow—do you know what that means?”

  “Trifles,” Jack said, waving her off. “Probably nothing to worry about. Mad ravings. Every day has shadows in it, doesn’t it? Bit of mumbo-jumbo, wobbly-babbly, that’s all.”

  “Visions of the future, you mean,” Carolina said. She hopped over a fallen tree trunk and hurried to keep up with Jack. Long strands of moss hung down in their faces and blue butterflies darted away into the foliage. “Aren’t you worried?”