a

Reflections In Dirty Water

by Sylvia

Chapter Ten: Scars

Jack didn’t think he’d ever get dry again. His clothes still clung to him uncomfortably and the water was still rising toward worrying levels. And with the damp had come an old ache, one that had not bothered him for years now. His hand slipped through the opening of his shirt, fingers seeking out the twin scars that bore mute testament to a time he would much rather forget.

Elizabeth had asked him if all the tales were true and he had sought to shock her by baring the worst of his scars. She had looked solemn instead of screaming, as any delicate lady should have done. Perhaps he should have shown the one that decorated his buttock where Sally had stuck him with a carving knife for trying to leave without paying? Now that would have shocked her, he grinned. Or maybe not, for Elizabeth was something special. The whelp was going to have his hands full with that one. Spirited, that’s what she was, like AnaMaria. And they were the kind you wanted on your side. Men were dangerous, but women had more ways to hurt you.

He didn’t hold with women being bad luck on board a ship. He’d known a few ladies who shared his love of the ocean, who valued the freedom it brought; no, his troubles with the ladies had always been on dry land, where no self-respecting pirate should stay too long. His shoulder twinged again, reminding him of the worst of his encounters with the gentler sex.

Jack had been stone cold sober when he made the mistake. Not a state he preferred, but it hadn’t been by his choice. He always thought quicker with a little alcohol in his system. It kept his brain ticking over just nicely.

He’d just spent three nights in the local gaol for something he really couldn’t remember doing. Didn’t mean he hadn’t, of course. Jack had it on good authority, that of the local magistrate, that he’d been drunk and disorderly in charge of a carriage that had been driven recklessly through the local market, causing damage to property. As Jack had never driven a carriage before there could be some justification for the arrest.

Jack pulled down the brim of his hat as he emerged into bright sunlight from the gloom of the jail. Sun sparkled on the water in the nearby harbour where boats nestled up to the quays. Very soon now he would have to find a new berth. There was little money left in his pocket and his Pearl was still out there somewhere, waiting for him to reclaim her.

He needed a drink, that was for sure. And he’d not yet visited Genny, something he did whenever he found himself here and alone. The woman was more friend than lover, and the years between them brought them ever closer. With Genny he could sit and talk out his hopes and fears and know his confidences would go no further. And if, occasionally, they would make love, it was a comfortable passion.

Sauntering down to the main part of town, Jack came to a sudden halt when a female voice called his name.

“Jack Sparrow?”

The voice was attractive, sultry, though not familiar. Slowly Jack turned, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun. “Who wants to know?” he asked, a leer on his attractive features.

From a side alley sashayed a tall, well-proportioned woman, with flashing eyes and Hispanic features. Jack didn’t recognise her, but that didn’t mean they did not know one another. Jack hoped they did, for he found her lush charms a definite attraction after three days abstinence. At sea, the only mistress he required was the ocean, but on dry land, ah, then he loved the ladies, every last one of them.

Her brilliant smile was enough to send a certain thrill through his body. Oh yes, this could be a very satisfactory afternoon.

“My name is Isabella, and you are the notorious Jack Sparrow,” the lilting voice declared.

“Notorious am I?” Jack replied, a swagger in his step as he approached the lovely woman. “Now just what am I notorious for, my pretty?”

“Buy me a drink, Jack, and I’ll tell you.”

Jack thought he was on familiar territory. The woman fancied him, not a doubt about it, and if it cost him a drink or two he’d not grumble. She looked to be a cosy armful, and he wanted a drink to ease the light-headed feeling three days without alcohol had engendered.

Of course, in his right mind, or with even just half a bottle of rum in his system, he’d have questioned such a lovely propositioning him. His usual ‘entertainment’ was street doxies who had a room for hire above a bar, unless he had the money and the inclination to visit a bordello. No, this young woman was too sophisticated, too clean to be touting for Jack Sparrow’s business. But, as Jack was to later excuse his error, he really should not have been sober.

The bar was dark and smelly, but Jack didn’t notice. His focus was on the barmaid and the first shot of rum. As they waited for the drinks to be brought over, Jack and Isabella became better acquainted.

Sitting back in his chair, Jack gasped a little from their encounter. The woman had a spirit about her that boded well for a more intimate association. So when she spoke, he found himself more than willing to listen.

“I hear you are a good man to have on your side in a tight corner. A quick thinker, able to get things done.”

Her words should have given Jack pause; throughout his life he’d fallen from one scrape to the next, with only his well-honed sense of survival keeping him alive this long.

“So,” Isabella continued, “I need your help. Are you aware that Captain Green took a Spanish galleon just last week?”

Jack nodded. The haul from that raid was said to be a fortune. Even allowing for exaggeration, a tenth of the reputed gold taken would easily fund his buying of a ship and crew, allowing him to pursue his Pearl and take his revenge on Barbossa and his traitorous crew.

“Aye,” he replied. “And what do you have in mind? Green won’t be letting that booty out of his sight, nor leave it where the likes of you and I can get our hands on it.”

The slow smile that spread over his companion’s face should have been a warning, but at that moment the barmaid brought the rum and his attention was easily distracted. Before he could raise the glass to his lips however, Isabella’s hand alighted on his arm.

“But there is a way to get our hands on it, Jack. A very simple way, for Captain Green is not storing his haul on the ship, but here, in the town.”

The glass of rum paused midway between the table and Jack’s lips, its progress stayed by the light touch of Isabella’s fingers and the words that now came tumbling out in a breathy whisper.

The sun was high in the sky, flooding the inn’s upper room with harsh afternoon sunlight, as Jack sat on the edge of the bed letting the plan revolve in his mind once more. Behind him, Isabella lay sleeping; her naked form sprawled across the bedspread. Idly he let his fingers slide across her back, her skin soft against the roughness of his fingertips. He’d known her less than half a day but he felt connected to her. She was a woman as passionate about life as he, as energetic as he, and as conniving. He grinned in remembrance of their afternoon, both in and out of bed.

Her plan could work, he mused. Green was a good Captain, but if he had stored his last haul on land, and where Isabella had indicated, then he was asking to have it stolen. And Jack was just the man to oblige.

He pulled on his clothes reluctantly, half tempted to waken Isabella for one last time before he left to scout out Green’s hidey hole. With a sigh, he rose, picked up his hat from the floor where it had landed some hours earlier, and after a last longing glance, he headed down the stairs and out into the heat of the day.

He was halfway to the docks when he came to an abrupt halt, standing stock still in the middle of the road, and causing more than one person to cast doubts on his parentage.

“Jack, lad,” he murmured to himself, “Just what are you doing?” Isabella’s lush form and exciting words had fuddled his brain it seemed. Jack was not a trusting soul by any means, but from the moment he’d met the sultry beauty he’d been letting his lower regions rule his head.

He was halfway to the harbour, and Green’s supposed cache. Halfway to being spotted. Jack didn’t doubt that he was a recognisable figure; not by his build or clothes, but for the ornamentation in his hair and the good looks his father had bequeathed him. Isabella had not told him who had pointed him out, but more than once he’d come to grief because of the beads in his black locks. He liked the look, he liked the fact that people knew Captain Jack Sparrow, but maybe now was not the time to be conspicuous.

A few steps away, a dark opening led into an alley behind the crowded shops and homes squeezed tightly together along the steep road to the harbour. In a moment Jack had vanished from the street and was hidden in the alley’s murky depths. Removing his hat, he untied the bandana from his head, his hair falling forward, beads jangling. Spitting on the dirty cloth, he wiped the ratty material across his face, darkening his skin, erasing his noticeable features from the casual gaze. Then, with swift, compact moves, he pulled the beads up, wrapped the bandana back around his head, holding the telltale baubles out of sight.

The man strolling back out into the street did not look like Jack Sparrow. Gone were the beads that instantly made him known, gone too was the swagger that epitomised the pirate. In his stead, a slight, unremarkable man sauntered toward the harbour.

On the sea front a slight breeze was blowing in off the sea. Jack lifted his head, turning into the wind and tested the air. A storm was brewing somewhere out to sea, maybe a day or less away, though no sign of it was visible in the brilliant blue sky. Other sailors had obviously taken note of the invisible warning too. Men were in the rigging of nearly every boat anchored in the harbour. Canvas was being carefully furled, lines checked, loose items removed from decks. On shore the warning was going unheeded. Tropical storms always caught the landlubbers by surprise. Jack grinned, with luck the storm would be his friend and cover his steps when he decided to strike.

Isabella had told him that Green had his haul stored in a small warehouse at the far end of the harbour. Sited next to one of the most highly used storage facilities on the island, Green had made use of the security that was already in place to cover the merchant’s property. It was a sound scheme; the pirate captain need only provide one or two of his own men to stand watch knowing that it was highly unlikely that anyone would trouble his store. And that, Jack thought, would be his biggest mistake.

Green’s ship had been in harbour for three days now, three days for his crew to go on shore and sample all the delights the town had to offer. And Jack knew what sort of a state they would be in. Those left to guard the booty would be anxious to join in the fun, and those sent to take their place would be the worse for the sampling.

For the next hour or so, Jack cruised the docks, chatting to sailors, getting a feel for who was in the market to sell, who was taking on crew and gradually making his way closer to Green’s storage facility, noting the armed guards that patrolled the front of various buildings. At that end of the harbour the paving abruptly stopped, the roadway becoming nothing but a hardened pack of dirt that turned up the side of the last warehouse and headed into the hills behind the town. The poorer residents lived there, their ramshackle homes separated from the town by little save circumstance.

Isabella had indicated that a friend would help Jack transport what they could take up into the hills and to a safe place. Jack was not so certain that he wanted an unknown ally, though he’d acknowledged that he could not do the job on his own. Perhaps it would be worth his while to scout the taverns for familiar faces? Jack stopped that thought almost before it had begun; he had found it hard to trust anyone since he’d made the mistake of allowing Barbossa into his confidence.

Isabella wouldn’t steer him wrong, of that he was sure. There was something about her that made his heart beat a little faster than it should, something that tugged at a deeply buried emotion that he did not want to recognise.

Taking a seat on the ground, and propping himself against the harbour wall, Jack spent the next few hours just watching the world go by, apparently half asleep. No one gave him a second glance as he seemingly nodded in the warmth of the evening. From the corner of his eye, Jack could see the door to Green’s storeroom. He watched as a man left then returned some twenty minutes later with viands for two. About thirty minutes after that, a different man left to return soon after with bottles of what Jack was sure was rum. Jack grinned. Oh yes. He would have to approach the storeroom from that end of the harbour to avoid the guards, but if the storm was violent enough, Jack had no doubts that they would retire inside the buildings.

Come eight o’clock that evening, Jack was giving serious thought to returning to Isabella, finding food and drink and maybe taking her back to bed, when two large individuals made their way to the door, neither of them very steady on their feet. Rapping in a certain sequence, they hovered conspicuously in the evening light. A head poked out from the partly opened door, the men nodded, then entered. Two minutes later the two men Jack had watched that afternoon left and headed quickly towards the town’s pleasures. He waited a few more minutes, saw the larger of the two pirates leave only to return with four bottles of drink tucked under his large arms. With a nod of satisfaction Jack turned to look out to sea, scanning the horizon for the storm clouds he so desperately needed. They did not disappoint. In the far distance thunderclouds were gathering, and he could feel the tang of rain in the air. Time to gather Isabella’s friend and wait for the storm to hit. If Green could have seen Jack’s sly grin at that moment, he would have recalled his whole crew to guard the haul he had expended so much effort to take.

Jack had never been jealous in his life; envious, yes, angry when someone beat him to a prize, certainly, but he was a fatalist. There was no reason to fret over something he could not change. And there was always another prize just around the corner. So, Jack was totally unprepared for the savage jolt of emotion that tore through his gut when he entered the inn’s door and saw Isabella in close, and obviously cosy, proximity to a hulking young man of unsavoury mien.

With eyes sparkling dangerously, he made his way through the throng to the table where the two sat with heads close together.

“And who would this be?” Jack queried, his voice tight with mistrust.

Isabelle glanced up at him. Seeing the suspicion in his eyes, she patted the seat beside her, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Jack, this is my cousin, José. He’s going to help us move the items.” Her words were circumspect given the throng in the tavern’s crowded bar.

“Ah,” Jack drawled, not convinced. True the man had a Hispanic appearance, but there was no family resemblance that he could see. Jack would reserve judgement.. . and keep his pistol close to hand.

“A change of plan,” Jack said.

Two pairs of dark brown eyes swung to his after sharing a quick glance between them, something Jack also noted. He’d be keeping his knife handy too; he trusted this new man as far as he could throw him, which wasn’t far. Leaning close to Isabella, keeping his voice low he went on to explain what he had seen at the harbour, finishing with…”So, with the storm heading this way, and me knowing the code, I think we’ll go with my plan, savvy?”

José answered softly, “I can get the mules, but not until tomorrow night. How much can we carry?”

Jack thought about what the hoard could possibly contain. Jewels certainly, easy to exchange, gold perhaps, and depending on whether it were coin or objects that could be a problem to dispose of. “Maybe four bags each, more if there is a lot of gems.” Just the thought of having to leave behind any gold made his head ache. He didn’t know why gold appealed over any other valuable, but he was drawn to it, his hand reaching to caress its golden sheen.

“Tonight then. You can meet me at the dock around three. By then the storm should be hitting and everyone will take cover,” Jack said, looking straight at José. Again a glance was shared between Isabella and her ‘cousin’, the barest nod acknowledging something between them. Jack was not happy.

Five minutes later and his mood had changed considerably. Back upstairs in the room Isabella was renting, Jack found himself in her embrace and felt himself drowning in her lush ripeness. The blood from his brain had dived south and left him without conscious thought beyond his own pleasure. They had a few hours to wait until the meeting time and he intended to enjoy every one of them.

Rain spattering against the window was the first indication that Jack’s predictions were accurate. The time was just gone two in the morning, and a wind was beginning to blow. Time to get dressed and purloin Captain Green’s booty.

“I’m coming with you,” Isabella said quietly, as she pulled the laces of her dress together. “Without the mules you’ll need as many hands as possible.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Jack replied feeling decidedly protective. Where this woman was concerned the gentlemanly behaviour that had been drilled into him by his uncle was suddenly to the fore.

Isabella went to the bed and ran her hand under the thin mattress, pulling out a pistol. “I can look after myself, and yes, I do know how to use it.”

Jack grinned, his affection for her deepening by the minute. But it was just affection he assured himself, nothing more. “Very well, but you’ll wait outside until we’ve dealt with Green’s men, understood?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” came the pert reply. Jack grabbed her round the waist and pulled her close for a long hungry kiss, ignoring the pistol that was wedged between their bodies.

As quietly as they could, Jack and his paramour made their way down the stairs and out the back door. Not that anyone was likely to hear them over the high winds now battering the town. It was a difficult journey down the hill, and within moments both were soaked to the skin, the rain washing away the muck from Jack’s face, leaving his handsome features exposed to the elements.

No one was mad enough to be outside. The gale blowing in off of the harbour battered against the buildings, debris blew along the streets, and Jack could barely hear himself think. Jack’s prediction that the guards would be under cover had proved true. No one patrolled the harbour, though light filtered through chinks in closed shutters and doors.

As they reached the storage facility José loomed out of the night, his bulk dwarfing Jack’s slender frame.

“Ready?” Jack mouthed.

José nodded, and Jack indicated to Isabella to wait around the end of the building where the storm’s force was slightly lessened. Until they had dealt with the pirates inside, he didn’t want her anywhere where harm might befall her.

Jack hammered out the secret knock, hoping he could be heard over the high winds. A few moments later a tousled head stuck itself out through the door, bleary, alcohol dimmed eyes focussing on the slight form standing too close to him. Jack’s dark eyes sparkled with devilment as the business end of a pistol was pressed under the pirate’s chin. Leaning close, Jack whispered, “Take a step outside, mate, I want a word.”

Suddenly Green’s henchman recognised his peril, his mouth opened as if to yell for help and Jack quickly reversed his weapon, bringing it down on the man’s skull. As the pirate sagged, Jack pushed him backward through the doorway, following him in with José right behind him. Coming toward them was a hulking great brute of a man, the one Jack had seen earlier going out for supplies. It was obvious that he had imbibed freely of the booze he had brought in, for even with such obvious danger, the pirate could barely bring his weapon up, let alone aim in any fashion.

Jack tut-tutted, and murmured quietly, “You just can’t get decent crew these days. Green must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel when he hired these two.”

José pushed himself in front of Jack and sent one huge fist into the drunkard’s face. The man reeled and tipped over, landing with a heavy thud on the hard floor, dust billowing up from the impact.

Jack stepped over the fallen pirate with all the fastidiousness of a cat avoiding a puddle. Piled at the end of the room was box upon box, banded and secured with leather straps and buckles that made his fingers itch to open. He made his way forward, only slightly distracted when he felt the gust of wind blow through as José opened the door to let Isabella in. In under a minute he had reached the first of the boxes, eager hands joined his as they undid the straps and flung back lids. Jack’s reaction was as close to lust as a man could get for any inanimate object. Before his eyes gleamed gold coins beyond counting, though he’d certainly take time to try later. Beside him he heard the same greedy gasps that he was sure he had breathed. A grin spread across his face and he turned to reach for Isabella, wanting to celebrate their success with a kiss…for he deserved it, that was for sure.

She had moved from his side to open another chest, and beside her José was also unbuckling straps. Then Isabella turned to José and flung her arms around his neck, giving him the kiss Jack had been anticipating. Confusion made Jack slow, too damn slow to realise that Isabella had played him false. He had certainly been suspicious of José, but he had foolishly ignored the niggling doubts he had harboured about Isabella. Even as his hand moved to find the butt of his pistol Isabella had turned and raised her own, her hand steady, her aim true.

Betrayed, by God. No, by Isabella. Jack couldn’t get his brain to function. All he could see at that moment was the hard look in her eyes, the clench of her jaw. Gone was the soft woman he had begun to… no, he’d not go down that road. It was too late to fight his way out, his sword hung uselessly at his side, no match for the pistol pointed at his person. Could he talk his way out of this? Jack didn’t know. It seemed he didn’t know a lot of things when it came to this woman.

“Love, what’s this? I though we was partners, you and me… and your cousin here. No need to point that at me, plenty for all.” Jack tried a step forward and watched her finger tighten on the trigger. Raising his hands he stepped back quickly. “Right, right. You take what you want, and I’ll just wait here, yes?”

Isabella spoke softly, her voice competing with the howl of the storm outside, but Jack heard her well enough.

“No, Jack. You see I can’t let you tell anyone about me. Green, well he knows me too well. He’ll track me down, take his revenge. But this,” she pointed to the spoils behind her, “This is my revenge on him, for all he did to me and mine. It’s the only way to hurt him.”

As Isabella had been speaking José had been moving from chest to chest, bagging gems and coins. More surely than he and Isabella could carry?

“I take it you have the mules waiting outside?” Jack asked bitterly. Not sure what was causing the pain in his chest, the fact that Isabella had proved much less than he had thought or, he wanted desperately to believe, the fact that he was losing his chance to some of the gold that glittered so enticingly just out of his reach. He should have known better than to trust anyone, let alone a woman who had fallen into his arms as easily as this one had. Not a mistake he’d make again, if he ever got the chance.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

He hadn’t been prepared for the sudden report of the gun, nor the pain that seared through his shoulder as her bullet took him to the floor, nor the thud as a second bullet followed the first. He could hear his own voice screaming in agony as the conspirators dragged their haul to the open door, letting the storm into the room and leaving Jack to bleed to death behind them.

Jack stared at the ceiling, trying to focus on something, anything to bring his mind into some clarity. He knew, if wanted to live, he had to stop the bleeding. His left arm was useless, so with painful slowness he dragged his right hand up to his head and tore off the bandana, pressing it tightly against his shoulder. Gods but it hurt. He had to get out of here, had to find help or he would die, and he wasn’t ready, not yet. Barbossa still lived, the Pearl still waited, oh no, Jack Sparrow wasn’t going to die just yet.

Inch by inch, Jack pushed himself along the floor until he could feel the spray of rain against his face. He let himself rest, just for a moment, gathering his strength to move once again. He knew where he had to go, the only place he could find sanctuary on this cursed island. If he could get there.

“How long?” Jack’s voice was a bare whisper in the darkness. He knew she was there, knew she would not have left him.

A gentle hand was laid over his own where it lay on the covers, her voice a soothing balm to his fevered mind.

“Three nights. Oh, Jack I am so glad you found me.”

His fingers wrapped around hers, and he squeezed them gently. “Where else would I come, Genny?”

Jack slipped back into sleep knowing that with this woman alone he was assured a safe harbour.

Strange, Jack thought, as he banished those memories from his mind. He’d always thought that having your life pass before your eyes happened just before you died, and yet here he was dredging up things he’d much rather forget - and all while sitting in the damp hole that was The Revenge’s bilge. Of course the hangman had done that job for him just a few short days ago, reciting some of the more colourful aspects of his career. He’d been rather proud of all he had achieved, Jack grinned to himself. And besides, while he was still breathing there was a chance to come out of this alive. He’d done it before and he’d do it again.

Something always turned up for Captain Jack Sparrow.

Chapter 11

All our authors thrive on feedback. Email the Webmaster to have comments forwarded to the author.

a