a

The Sacking of Port Royal
by TortugaBlack

CHAPTER 15: The Attack on Port Royal

When she reached open water, the Black Pearl’s main and topsails grabbed at the wind and she sailed without difficulty over the shoals that had held her captive earlier in the day. Clearing the cay she turned northward following the shoreline, her captain at her helm until night closed around her, taking her darkness as part of its own.

Relinquishing the helm to Ana Maria, Sparrow issued his orders. “Raise the top gallants only at my signal,” he cautioned. “We’ll want no more against the night sky until we are well past Port Royal.”

“Aye, Captain.” Her chin high, her attention to business, the young pirate took the Pearl expertly in hand.

Sparrow stood for a moment, watching his helmsman slip easily into the position he had just vacated. At his side Will Turner shifted restlessly. Satisfied with the Pearl’s progress and continuing to ignore the younger man, Jack strolled to the railing, grabbed a handful of the shroud and leapt easily to the rail. Leaning out over the rushing sea, he cast a critical eye toward the Rona. The small sloop was sailing well astern, but keeping out of the Pearl’s wake. “Good man.”

“Jack, what of Elizabeth?”

Releasing the shrouds Sparrow stepped easily to the deck and confronted Turner, who stood waiting with eager expectation. Grimacing the pirate choose his next words with care, suspecting he was likely to regret them. “If you can vouch for Miss Swann’s behavior, mate, she may come topside.”

“Of course.” Will turned toward the hatch only to be stopped by a hand to his arm.

“Be sure those beautiful curls on that lovely head are covered well. It’s a dark night, mate, but pirates are an untrusting lot and it’s best not to tempt the fates. Savvy?” Getting a curt nod of understanding, Sparrow released the boy and watched him stride eagerly away. If it were not for the need to keep the lad focused on the job at hand, Sparrow lamented, there was another place he would have preferred to stash the governor’s headstrong daughter until morning.

Taking the narrow wooden steps in a rush, Will hurried eagerly to the quartermaster’s cabin and rapped smartly at the door. As he started impatiently to knock again, the door was flung open under his raised fist.

“Will!” Elizabeth burst from the room, looking first up and then down the narrow, dimly lighted companionway. “We’re moving. Has the other ship left? Are we leaving the cove? What’s happening?”

Pulling her to him, Will silenced her with a gentle, but lingering kiss. He felt her stiffen in surprise, then melt into his embrace and willingly lift her face. Another soft brushing of his lips across hers and he looked down into soft brown eyes. “Do you have a hat…?”

“What–?” She eased back until she could see his face. Her brows rose in question and she gave him a teasing smile. “And what are we going to do with a hat, Mister Turner?”

His answering grin immediately relieved her anxieties of moments past and she felt something aflutter in her stomach and this time, recognized it for the hunger it was.

“Jack says you can come topside, but your hair must be covered. There will be too many eyes directed at us tonight to take chances of you being seen.”

“Us? Jack Sparrow says?” Elizabeth grumbled under her breath. Gritting her teeth against further words best left unspoken, she whirled back into the room and appeared almost immediately with a wide-brimmed floppy misshaped hat pulled from a peg on the cabin wall and slapped angrily atop her head. Stomping with temper into the companionway, she hurriedly stuffed her hair under the edges. “By all means let’s hurry before Captain Jack Sparrow changes his mind and has you escort me to his brig,” she snapped. “Where I’m sure he’d rather I be…”

Taken aback by her anger, but wise enough not to fuel her temper, Will grabbed her hand and started back for the hatch. “Come on!”

Pulled along in his wake, Elizabeth fought for balance while struggling to keep pace with his longer strides. “Will, tell me….something!”

“The pirate fleet is approaching Port Royal!”

“Fleet? What fleet?”

Reaching the stairs at the end of the companion way, his back to her, her words lost in his rush to gain topside, Will took the narrow steps in long strides, giving her no time to pull back or ask more questions; Elizabeth stayed at his heels.

Once topside he led her to the port rail, staying well clear of the bustling activity around them; the Pearl’s crew, seen as ghostly shadows, drifted like smoke about the dark ship. Elizabeth shuddered, her mind unwillingly associating the live members of this crew with the previous undead ones. Without conscious thought, she glanced up, fearing the sudden appearance of a moon that would turn the shadowy crew into a moving bone yard. The night remained dark and she remembered there would be no moon; it eased her mind little. With a knot in her belly that would not ease, she looked to the shoreline. With the Pearl staying to the deeper waters behind the tide and without the help of moonlight, all she could make out was the cold silver shine of white sands along the western shore of Lime Cay. Drawing an uneasy breath, she repeated her unanswered question. “Will, you mentioned a fleet…approaching Port Royal…how many?”

“Five. The watch saw them just moments ago headed for Port Royal under full sail.”

For long moments she could only stare at him in shock, the silence around her broken only by the whipping of the galley’s dark sails as a slight correction moved the Pearl closer and closer to the northern end of the cay. The soft caress of tropical breezes brought neither pleasure nor comfort to her.

“Five…” The thought of the damage five armed pirate brigs could inflict upon the unsuspected port town filled Elizabeth with icy fear. “Without the Dauntless to protect the bay, they’ll be on Port Royal before the garrison can be alerted,” she whispered her conclusions aloud, but noticed they seemed to have little impact on the man at her side. Her hands tightened on the rail.

“Jack will probably stay as close to the shoreline as possible to avoid putting the Pearl against the horizon…even in the dark of the moon,” Will was saying. She wrenched her attention from her own dark thoughts to concentrate on his words. Standing shoulder to shoulder with him, she felt him press closer even before his hand reached to the rail and tightened over hers. “Listen!”

From the direction of Port Royal, a high-pitched whistle ended abruptly in a muffled explosion to be quickly followed by another and another.

“Cannon fire!” Elizabeth started, the shock of it coming not from the suddenness of the attack, but from her tightly held anticipation of it.

“From the fort!” Will exclaimed with excitement. “They got off the first shots!”

Hope pulled Elizabeth eagerly forward, silently cursing the slow crawl of shoreline, subconsciously willing it aside to reveal their first look at Port Royal only three miles away. “I – I hear it! But how can you be sure it’s coming from the fort?”

“I helped cast those cannon, I know their sound!” He, too, strained forward in a fruitless attempt to see beyond the shoreline.

“They weren’t caught off guard,” Elizabeth whispered, hope giving way to excitement as she listened intently to the sounds of cannon fire while frantically searching the skies above the cay for any visual signs of the attack; there were none.

A barrage of light cannon and the rapid tat-tat of even smaller guns answered the deeper boom of the garrison’s heavy cannon. Will frowned. “Deck guns and…”

“Four-pounders…minions,” a voice responded from the darkness behind them. Jack Sparrow joined them at the rail.

Another burst of cannon fire split the night.

“A Saker, six-pounder,” the pirate quickly identified. Another round of the fainter tat-tat and he casually finished his tutorage, “and single-pounders… swivel guns.”

The escalation of firepower exploded bright flashes in the night sky above the cay, dying with the lulls for reloading then flaring in renewed assault, the only evidence of the attack visible to those aboard the Pearl.

Puzzled, Will turned to the pirate. “I don’t understand. Where are the heavy cannon covering the attack force?”

“One would wonder,” Sparrow answered sardonically.

The last of the islet’s shoreline fell away as the Pearl surged into open water, gracefully turned and put her port side to the cay. Sparrow led the couple across to starboard, which now offered their first view of the Port Royal bay and the besieged port town. Obscured by a shroud of smoke, Port Royal could only be glimpsed in harsh silhouette against the brief flashes of light that followed each barrage of cannon fire.

“This isn’t right.” Elizabeth turned away from the opening salvos of the attack to face Sparrow. “Surely you could have done something to stop this!” she challenged.

“And what would you have had me do, Miss Swann?” Sparrow asked, his voice low as if sensing her pain.

“You’re Captain Jack Sparrow!” Tears of helpless rage stung her eyes. “The man who sacked Nassau Port without firing a shot. With all your wily ways and infinite schemes in obtaining spoils and – and rum – you could have thought of something!”

As if in mockery of her accusation, came the deep rumbling discharge of heavier ordinance. The darkness was rent by a blinding flash and a concussion that could be felt through the very water, followed quickly by soaring flames above billows of black smoke.

“A powder magazine…” Sparrow identified, ignoring the desperate, but unrealistic plea, of the young woman.

“Ship…or fort?” Will asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

Sparrow shrugged. “Could be either.”

“The cannons?”

“Eight-pounders,” Sparrow answered without hesitation. Anticipating Turner’s next question, he settled his attention again in the direction of Port Royal. “The Spot carries twelve eight-pounders…the Jackal at least that many.”

“Eight-pounders? Pirate ships? What of Port Royal? Her citizens!” Elizabeth, angered with a conversation that failed to address those most at risk, the helpless and innocent people of Port Royal, withdrew a step apart from the men and said a silent prayer for those unfortunates.

Behind her, the voices of the two men fell silent, but she could not pull her eyes from the attack to see where their attention lay. Silhouetted against the color of hell, small heavily manned boats made their way toward the docks. “Longboats! Longboats are landing!” Her words caught in a dry throat as tears stung her eyes at the drama unfolding across the bay.

But for Will, she realized she would now be looking down on the destruction from her rooms, remembering another attack and what had followed. Martha would have ordered the doors and windows barricaded and Charles would have armed and stationed trusted field hands about the estate in hopes of protecting the governor’s property and his people against invasion. She felt both thankful and guilt-ridden for her safety.

Again the cannon fire from Fort Charles broke the silence, answered immediately by the eights covering the advancement of the raiding parties.

No longer able to watch the wanton destruction of the port town, Elizabeth turned her back to Port Royal and, on legs stiff with shock, rejoined the two men.

“The earlier cannon fire from the attacking forces.” Will Turner frowned in confusion, “They were small cannon…”

“Aye.” Sparrow shifted his gaze to include Elizabeth, acknowledging her return. “The ships that signed with Pease are those desperate for plunder.” Receiving only puzzled looks, he patiently explained further. “For the smaller ships with little firepower and big crews to support, the spoils have grown lean in these waters.”

“Norrington,” Will guessed.

“Norrington,” Sparrow agreed. His gaze wandered again in the direction of Port Royal. “Before the British took the island, merchant ships, and the Spanish galleons before them, fell easy prey to the hit and run of the small sloops.”

“Hit and run?”

“Hit and run has always been the pirate’s way here in the Caribbean…and very effective,” Elizabeth interjected in answer to Will’s question, but her voice held no interest only sorrow that they could speak of such things in a calm and conversational manner while Port Royal burned.

“Aye.” Sparrow shot the young woman in sailor attire a look of admiration for her knowledge. “Small single-masted sloops are fast, easy to maneuver through the shoals around the smallest islands. They slip out of the darkness while the bigger ships lay at anchor in waters they feel to be safe, hit them and are gone before the alarm can be raised. But they are lightly armed and not designed to stand and fight.”

“Then they’re mad,” she stated simply, looking again toward Port Royal.

“Is that how you see it, missy?” Sparrow’s gaze shifted to the young blacksmith, then back to her. “Mister Turner once said he practiced with his pretty swords so when he met a pirate he could kill it. Look around you…” Sparrow flung out an arm to draw their attention to the shadowy members of his crew. “He’s aboard a pirate vessel, surrounded by pirates, yet he’s drawn his sword in anger against none of them. I think he can tell you life’s situations are not always so easily defined.”

Turning back to them, Sparrow patiently continued, “Without Norrington – the garrison lightly manned – and the backing fire of two brigs, the crews aboard the sloops that sailed into Port Royal this night saw it as a wise move and a chance to fill their coffers...many of them are only days from starvation.” Sparrow took a step away from the rail. “Desperation, not madness, lass, forced them into signing with Pease and Reyes. Think on that before you condemn them all to Norrington’s rope.”

Stepping away from the young couple, Jack Sparrow raised an arm to his first mate, caught his attention and sauntered off to confer with Gibbs and the deck watch still stationed below the crow’s nest. On the small platform high above the Pearl’s deck, a crewman could barely be discerned with a glass pointed toward the bay.

Stepping into the spot at the rail vacated by Sparrow, Elizabeth smarted from the pirate’s accusations. “Jack explained why five pirate sloops are here,” she muttered through tightly clenched teeth. “But managed not to explain the Pearl’s role in all this.” Reaching towards Will, her hand found his arm and tightened around it, drawing comfort from the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers where the torn sleeve of the shirt hung open. “That may explain the presence of the pirate fleet, but not his. If not to join the attack, why is the Pearl here?”

“Jack’s waiting.” As if sensing her need for him in her touch, Will stepped closer until they stood shoulder to shoulder.

“Waiting? For what?” She leaned into him, accepting his closeness with gratitude.

“The eight-pounders Jack spoke of belong to the Spot and the Sea Jackal, brigs captained by Diego Reyes and Ben Pease.”

“Pease?” You’ve mentioned him before…” Elizabeth’s breath quickened with sudden realization as his free hand covered hers. “He’s the one you’re to fight, isn’t he?”

“If it goes as Jack expects, Reyes and Pease will pull out and leave the sloops to their fate.”

Cursing the darkness that would not allow her to see his expression or read what lay in his eyes, she pressed on. “He expects them to leave the attack?”

“He does.”

Her trembling ceased and she tightened her grip on his arm. “Among the Brethren, signed Articles are more sacred than the Code!”

Even in the darkness, she was aware of his eyebrows rising in surprise at the amazement he must of heard in her voice, even as she recalled how lightly pirates at times seemed to regard the Pirate’s Code. If they held the Code in such small regard, why not Articles if it would benefit them? She flushed at her naivety. “And if they leave?”

“We follow.”

As she remembered the activities of the crew earlier in the day, it all began to make sense, the open gun ports exposing the barrels of the minions on the quarterdeck and the heavier Sakers further forward. The swivel guns mounted fore and aft now standing naked of their covers with cannonballs carefully stacked and gun crews at the ready, while below deck, she was equally sure, would be men standing ready at the heavier eights. “He plans to attack them!”

“And risk the Pearl?” Will’s face moved closer to hers. The hand that had covered her own tucked a wayward curl under the brim of the shapeless hat. “The guns are manned because Jack doesn’t like holes blown in his pretty ship. He’s just being cautious.”

“So it’s to be another of Jack’s mad schemes…” she guessed, and immediately tried to temper the edge she’d put on her words. She was not angry with Will nor was he responsible for the actions of one seemingly mad and unpredictable pirate.

Will sought her lips with his own, stilling her angry retort before it found further voice. The kiss lingered and Elizabeth found she shivered no longer from the shock of the attack against Port Royal, but from a desire for the man she loved held too long in check. She lifted her arms to encircle his neck as she pressed her body urgently against his and answered his kiss with one of her own.

The wind shifted, sails trimmed and the Black Pearl swung her bowsprit away from Port Royal. In her wake and leaving the last concealment of the cay behind, the Rona set canvas to keep pace.

The course shift forced the two lovers reluctantly out of their embrace to steady themselves against the rail. Seeing the Rona for the first time, Elizabeth pointed urgently at the white sails off the Pearl’s stern. “There! A sloop! Will, if it’s part of the attack– ”

“No, no,” Will assured her, his voice husky with passion. “It’s the Rona, Jack’s business partner in this venture.” He gently turned her face from the ship and lowered his head for another kiss. She reluctantly backed away.

“Partner? Who–? A flash of light, brief and caught only out of the corner of her eye, drew her attention amidships. “Did you see that? A light?”

The spell broken, Will sighed. “From the crow’s nest, it may be another signal.”

Their attention drawn to the top of the main mast and the watch stationed there, the couple waited breathlessly. Another flash and they understood. The watch, having sighted something, had pointed his lantern away from them and toward the Rona before raising the hood briefly. Another moment and he raised the hood one last time. Sparrow and Gibbs stood in a tight huddle with the seaman stationed at the foot of the main mast.

“What can it mean?”

Will turned her gently toward Port Royal. “Listen!”

At his bidding Elizabeth strained forward, listening intently to the various concussions, the booming of cannon, the tat-tat of deck guns aboard the pirate sloops, explosions as cannonballs found their targets. And with sinking hopes, she saw the raging fires in Port Royal that served as a backdrop to the parapets of Fort Charles. “I…don’t know what I’m listening for…” she admitted, weary and sickened by the sight and sounds of the attack.

“The eights!” Will stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder across the bay toward the port city. “Listen to them!”

Leaning gratefully into the warmth and strength of the man she loved, Elizabeth closed her eyes to the horrors of warfare and listened only to its sounds. She remembered Sparrow drawing their attention to each and giving a name to cannon or gun, but was unsure she could do the same; concentrating, she tried to single out the deeper concussions of the eights. “They’re moving–” Opening her eyes, Elizabeth turned to find Will’s face next to hers. “–This way. Towards us!”

“It’s all right,” he soothed, pulling her again into the comfort of his arms. She moaned, attempting to still her fears as his lips brushed her neck. “They’re not moving towards us; they don’t know we’re here. They’re moving away from the attack…leaving the bay. They’re pulling out!” His softly spoken words, touched with triumphant admiration, sent a cold breath across her desires. “He was right all along!”

Jack Sparrow! The thought of the wily pirate doused the last of her passion. Elizabeth eased out of Will’s arms, surprised at the coolness of the wind’s breath against her flesh after the warmth of her lover’s embrace. In angry frustration, she grabbed the rail in front of her, willfully imagining her slender fingers encircling the neck of one particular pirate who seemed determined to come between her and Will at the most inopportune moments. The spell broken, Will’s words came back to her and curiosity stepped in. “Leaving? Even now, they hold the bay against the fort’s guns.” His face was again next to hers to better hear her over the continuing bombardment. “Why would they leave?”

“To do a little plundering of their own.” His soft breath caressed her neck.

“But why? Port Royal is theirs,” she asked, still unconvinced.

“Ah, Jack wasn’t so mad as you thought,” Will teased lightly. “He realized Port Royal was never their goal.” He paused for emphasis. “There’s more valuable easier taken spoils to be had to the north that won’t put them under the fort’s guns.”

“The plantations.” Elizabeth shuddered as realization came.

“Look!” Will pressed his cheek to hers, drawing her attention again towards the bay.

Silhouetted against the fires of Port Royal, two brigs sailed from the bay and into sight of the darkened galley. One, with a complete set of square-rigged sails fore and aft, took the lead and changed course northward. The other, with spanker mounted on a second tri-mast and sporting the distinctive rigging of the South Seas, followed.

v v v v v

At the shoulder of his helmsman, spyglass to his eye, Jack Sparrow watched the departing ships. Once the brigs turned northward, he lowered the glass and passed it to his first mate. A quick sweeping motion of his arm sent crewmen jumping into the shrouds, up the ratlines and hurriedly releasing the furled sails of the topgallants while others below made haste to man the stays. In a flurry of silent activity, the galley’s dark sails opened and reached for the wind. Under full canvas, the Black Pearl leaned away from the cover of the cay and into a parallel course with the retreating brigs, pacing them with the stealth and grace of a cruising shark; starboard and just off the galley’s stern, the Rona followed.

Rounding a point marked by a dark oddly shaped boulder atop a cliff, the Pearl sailed beyond the sights and sounds of Port Royal. The darkness closed in, making the brigs they followed even harder to see.

“There!” Elizabeth pointed beyond the point. “The Palisadoes.”

“Are you familiar with this part of the island, Miss Swann?” Jack Sparrow stepped from the darkness to join them.

“My father and I have been to many of the plantations,” she admitted. “And to Spanish Town that lies inland of Kingston.”

“Kingston, is it?” Sparrow repeated with a hint of sarcasm. “A high and mighty name to be sure, for a huddle of tumbled down shacks in the lee of Morgan’s Harbor.”

“Morgan…Henry Morgan? The pirate?” Will asked, with quickened interest.

“Aye. His ship, the Oxford, lies there, just beyond the Palisadoes,” Sparrow pointed ahead of the Pearl. “She and her plunder rest in the deepest waters of Davy Jones’ locker just beyond the shoals. Legend has it that ol’ Henry’s ghost protects both. To appease him the harbor was given his name.”

They fell silent, watching the brigs they followed carefully negotiate the long spit of sand that served as natural protection for the huge harbor. Both ships stayed well landward of the shallows, sailing close to the island’s coastline. Seaward in far deeper water, the Pearl and the Rona paced the brigs, keeping the Palisadoes between them and their quarry. As the shallows thinned and the water deepened, the distance between the hunted and the hunters narrowed. Taking no chances of being seen, the Pearl dropped back to allow the brigs to pull ahead before again cautiously closing the distance.

“The first of the big plantations lies just beyond the Palisadoes,” Sparrow commented. “If I know the mind of Diego Reyes, he will sail the Spot past it.”

Will Turner glanced at the pirate, then toward the two ships they shadowed. “Why would he do that?”

“Because the Morales plantation – the next dock north of here – is much larger,” Elizabeth answered without hesitation.

“And widely known for their tobacco and…their experienced field hands,” Sparrow finished for her, his unblinking attention on Turner. Will nodded his understanding.

“But the great houses are always set well above the docks.” Elizabeth shook her head in puzzlement. “They’ll have to leave the protection of their ships and approach the houses on foot. It carries far greater risk than covering….” Catching the silent exchange between the men, she moved closer, searching their faces for the clue she was missing. “If not the wealth of the homes, what?”

“Both ships are brigs, lass,” Sparrow carefully pointed out. “At a hundred and fifty tons, they each have twice the cargo space and far deeper holds than the sloops they accompanied to Port Royal.” Pausing, he waited for her to catch up.

“Well armed and capable of holding the bay against Fort Charles…but with greater hold capacity…” Elizabeth put it together and made the jump. “Their holds are for human cargo. They’re slavers!”

Ahead of the brigs the tropical foliage of the island receded, giving way to the glimmering white sands of coastal beaches and the first dock came into sight. Beyond, hidden by the dark contours of cultivated land and lush jungle foliage, more docks, long and wide enough to accommodate merchant ships and the transfer of cargo, marked the seaward approach to each plantation.

Above the beach on higher ground to protect it from the high winds and rough seas that accompanied seasonal storms, the first of the great plantation houses stood darkly against the night, its tiled roof rising above the trees.

Silently the three stood at the rail as the Pearl continued to flank the pirate brigs. At the sound of approaching steps, they turned as one to greet the ship’s first mate hurrying towards them.

“We stand ready, Cap’n.” Gibbs followed their gaze across the wide expense of sea toward the shoreline, picking out the brigs sailing ahead of them. He squinted at the dark outline of the leading ship. “The Spot?”

“Aye,” Sparrow acknowledged softly. “The Spot.”

As they watched, the ship sailed past the first dock towards a headland that would soon take her from their sight. In her wake the Jackal turned into the wind and slowed.

“Mister Gibbs, signal the Rona, the Spot is his!”

“Aye, Cap’n, aye!” Gibbs hustled smartly off, angling his steps towards Cotton stationed at the foot of the main mast, signal lantern in hand.

“Mister Turner.” Sparrow turned back to the young couple. “after a word with my helmsman…uh, woman…” he corrected, grimacing at his slip. “We’ll go to the boats. This would be the opportune moment, mate, to take your leave of Miss Swann.”

Sparrow sauntered off in the direction of the helm, the roll of the Pearl’s deck giving true purpose to the familiar jaunty sway and swagger of the man’s movements. He beckoned again for his first mate to join him at the helm.

“The Rona’s safely away after the Spot, Jack, and will clear the point unseen.” Gibbs motioned landward. “Mister Cotton reports the Jackal is docking.”

“Give the orders to those staying aboard to take positions on the port guns and keep alert. They are to fire only if fired upon,” Sparrow lowered his voice for emphasis, “…and allow no boarders.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“Pick your boarding parties, Mister Gibbs, and prepare the boats. I want you in the first boat with those you’ve picked for the assault on the Jackal. Once at her stern hold until the Pearl hoists her colors. That will be your signal to board.” Sparrow stepped closer, his expression intensely serious. “You and your boarding crew do what you do best, mate, quickly and quietly. Savvy?” His ink-black eyes held the other’s gaze firmly. “And it would be best, mate, if it were your warning shot…and not theirs…that alerts the landing party to the Jackal’s peril.”

An understanding smirk pulled at the corner of the first mate’s mouth and he slowly nodded. “Aye, Cap’n, the deed will be done. We’ll be waiting at the ramp to give them a proper greetin’.”

“Good man.” Sparrow backed away from Gibbs. “Get your crews to the boats, mate. Mister Turner and I will join you there shortly.”

Dismissed, Gibbs gave a jaunty salute, slipped past the helm and angled aft, collecting the selected shore parties as he passed.

Stepping up to the helm, Sparrow addressed the small figure standing at the wheel. “Ana Maria, once the long boats are away, move the Pearl ahead of the Jackal – close enough to catch her attention, but seaward of the action. Keep to the Code, luv, and afford them no excuse to go to the guns. I want a glass on the Jackal’s deck and when the Pearl has their undivided attention, hoist our colors. That will be Mister Gibbs’ signal to board.” Standing at her back he leaned over her shoulder, the small braids on his chin lightly brushed her neck. A smile, a tilt of his head, and the ink-black eyes hardened. “Wait, luv, for the opportune moment…until you have their undivided attention,” he purred. “If it’s to be the last night for some, let their last sight be that of the Black Pearl.”

“What of her?” Ana Maria asked, the nod of her head brushing Sparrow’s face. Both heads turned toward the young couple locked in a tight embrace across the deck from them.

“The lass can stay topside. I’ll give her a glass.” Sparrow brushed his lips lightly down the young woman’s neck. “It’ll be another pair of eyes on the Jackal.”

Ana Maria huffed at his words, but made no attempt to move away from his touch. “We both know where that one’s eyes will be.”

“Aye,” Sparrow whispered in soft agreement. He pulled back enough to see into eyes as dark as his own. “It’s not in that bonnie lass’s nature to stand by and not take an active part in matters affecting dear William.” Again both heads turned toward the young couple. “Watch over her, luv, and don’t let her do anything…stupid.”

At Ana Maria’s curt nod, Sparrow returned to the evening’s business. “Mister Turner will be in the second boat with me,” he commented. The intimacy that had been in his voice was gone.

“He’s not Bootstrap, Jack,” Ana Maria warned.

Jack Sparrow straightened; his hands behind his back, fingers locked, his attention still on the young couple, he started away from her. “No,” he agreed, flashing a roguish smile in her direction. “But he could be…”

As he approached Will and Elizabeth, they drew reluctantly apart. Thoughts of the possibility that before dawn the one might be forever without the other tugged guiltily at his mind, but they were not the first…nor would they be the last…to face the harshness of a dangerous world.

“Mister Turner, the time draws nigh; meet me at the second boat portside aft. Mister Gibbs has his crews and will be readying the boats. He may have need of another pair of hands. I’ll join you there shortly.”

“Aye.” Will gave Elizabeth’s hand a loving squeeze in silent apology. As he passed Sparrow, he stopped, his face close to that of the pirate’s. “Take care of her, Jack,” Will whispered in parting, his expression grave.

Sparrow waved the young man away. “She’s on the Pearl, mate – there be few places safer for her this night.” With a faint hesitant smile of acknowledgement, Will turned away, found the motion of the deck and strode toward the knot of men gathered aft, his gait already adjusting to the ship’s movements. Left standing alone with the object of the boy’s affections, Sparrow watched him go with trepidation. Stealing a quick glance in the direction of the young spitfire at his side, her eyes on the retreating blacksmith, the pirate grimly acknowledged the signs of an impending attack in the stiff upper lip and the ramrod straightness of her back. He grimaced. Any moment now he could expect a warning shot to be lobbed across his bow. Unless, he reasoned with fox-like cunning, he fired first. Preparing for an exchange of hostilities, he addressed Elizabeth with stern familiarity. “A moment of your time, luv.”

One last glance toward Will’s departing back and Elizabeth Swann shifted her attention to Sparrow, her chin high, her expression a challenge should he make the mistake of mentioning the glitter of her unshed tears. “Jack.”

Fielding the first volley by wisely ignoring the shine in those dark orbs, Sparrow prepared his answering salvo. “Shortly, young missy, two boats will make their way ashore. The crew of one will be boarding the Jackal, the other will await her shore party.” He hardened his resolve. “Surprise, luv, is needed to assure that my crew…all of them…have the best possible chance of returning to the Pearl alive.” One silver droplet escaped to trace its way slowly down her cheek. He sighed. “Do we still have a problem between us, Miss Swann?”

This time it was she who put her face into his, her eyes hard with warning. The tear that had been his undoing was brushed angrily aside. “Will has chosen to follow you into this madness of which I know little, but I trust him…and he trusts you. Probably more than he should,” she added with spirit. Her chin high, her dark eyes snapping with righteous resolve, Elizabeth issued her ultimatum. “I’ve given you my promise not to interfere. Now, I’ll have yours, Jack Sparrow, that Will Turner’s actions this night will not make an outlaw of him and that you will make every effort to return him safely to my arms. Do we have an accord?”

In an effort to avoid bloodshed in the verbal scrimmage, Sparrow dwelt solemnly on those all too youthful features before he answered with rare candor, “I can make no such promise, luv. In the end it will be Will Turner who must decide his own fate. However, I will promise on pain of death that his actions tonight will not be bantered carelessly about by any member of my crew.”

“And the other crews?” There was an edge to her voice he recognized all too well when the subject of one William Turner came up between them. “What of them? Will they remain silent?”

Sparrow looked past her, his gaze narrowed on the Jackal across the dark water; his words, when spoken, were filled with grim omens. “Most will not see the light of another sunrise, luv. Those who do will have far more to concern themselves with than the presence of dear William.” He shook his head lightly as if to dispel the dire prophecy, sending dreadlocks and beaded ornaments dancing. His expression softened as his gaze met hers. “And by first cock’s crow, if it still be your wish…and his…I will see you both safely ashore to return to the lives you think you want.”

Elizabeth frowned. “I’ll hold you to that.” Her eyes on his reflected her suspicion of his powers of evasion. “This was the life Bill Turner choose over his family. Will came with you to experience that life in an attempt to better know his father and the decision he made. But Will Turner is not his father. He’s a good and honest man and I will not see him hanged at Gallows Point for his actions here tonight.” She searched the pirate captain’s face in what little light the night offered. “I love him, Jack Sparrow, and I will not willingly give him up to this life without a fight.”

Sparrow made no attempt to avoid her directness or her challenge. “A man needs a good woman at his side as well as in his bed, lass.” He flashed a quick smile but quickly sobered. “And you are a good woman, Elizabeth Swann – but not the first to make such a vow.” He surprised her by pulling from a pocket of his greatcoat a collapsible spyglass and putting it into her hands. “Only the fates can know the course of a man’s life…or a woman’s. But I will promise to do what I can to bring your man safely back to you.”

Elizabeth looked down at the glass, then back at Sparrow. “What’s this…?

“For you, luv. Ana Maria has the helm and the duties of command while I’m away. Another pair of eyes is always needed…”

v v v v v

Fingering the glass, Elizabeth frowned. Was he thinking of her or merely giving her something to do while she waited? Another moment of silence passed between them. She looked up and caught something that had flashed momentarily behind those ink-dark eyes in the handsome face that had so many facets and could hide so much. Were they both remembering a night on a tiny spit of land where they had shared confidences…and large quantities of rum? She had betrayed his trust that night by getting him drunk so she could set fire to all they had in a desperate attempt to draw the attention of Norrington’s search party. Later he had returned the favor by using his wiles to keep her aboard the Dauntless during his confrontation with Barbossa. They each had ample reason to mistrust the other. Sighing, she also knew she had been given no choice. “Peas in a pod,” she whispered sternly.

The pirate’s face broke into a wide grin at her words, bearing out her suspicion. “Exactly so, luv.”

She nodded. “Then Godspeed…” She looked aft where dark figures guided longboats over the side of the ship in preparation of their launch. “…To you all.” She left him, carrying the glass with her as she drifted aft toward the boats. She felt his gaze linger between her shoulder blades a moment before she heard his booted feet retreat, probably back to the watch at the main mast.

At the stern, both boats hung out over the water, the men assigned to each gathering in small groups awaiting their orders. At the aft railing and apart from the others, Will Turner watched her approach. Had he been aware of her meeting with Jack? Elizabeth stopped at his side. Conversations fell silent and all heads turned her way, then as if respecting their last moments together, the men turned their backs and continued their guarded conversations.

Gratefully she eased into Will’s welcoming arms and they stood in silence, merely enjoying the closeness they shared. Leaning back against him, Elizabeth breathed in the smell of him, now free of the metal and fire of his profession, touched by the tangy freshness of the sea air and savored the feel of his cheek against hers, his breath on her neck. Clinging to these precious moments, she stored them forever in her memories.

“Will, I…don’t fully understand what your part in this matter is…” she started, then hurried on before he could interrupt. “I understand only that it’s something you feel you must do. Nor do I need to caution you to be careful for I know you will.” She turned her face into his shirt, gaining strength from the beating of his heart. Tears stung her eyes as she felt his lips lightly touch her neck and drew strength from the tenderness of his kiss. “Just know,” she whispered, “that what transpires tonight could change the course of our lives. Please don’t do anything that will take you from me.” The lips again lightly touched her neck, her cheek, found her tears and kissed them away.

“I promise,” he whispered into her ear, his voice soft and filled with a tenderness she had come to expect from him. Their heads still close, they fell silent, their attention drawn as one to the wiry pirate captain who stood amidships, the old man, Cotton, at his side, peering up at the crow’s nest, the hooded lantern in Jack’s hand. A spray of gentle light found its way past the top edges of the hood, illuminating the pirate’s features in a soft, but shadowy glow, but light enough for the young couple to see that Sparrow looked toward the helm and the slight figure of his quartermaster.

“Stay close to Ana Maria,” Will whispered, his lips at her ear. “She has the helm and will be in command after we push off.”

Elizabeth nodded, but her attention remained on Sparrow…and his on Ana Maria. “She loves him, you know.” She pulled Will’s arms closer about her.

“What–?” Will leaned closer, the brim of her hat shadowing their faces. Together they watched Sparrow lift the hood a small fraction and flash the helm; in its glow they caught that quick smile they both knew so well.

“Ana Maria.” Elizabeth nestled into the warmth of his neck. “She loves Jack. It’s her cabin next to his. The quartermaster’s cabin.”

Across from them just before the hood was lowered and in the final spray of lantern light, they watched Sparrow flip Ana Maria a jaunty salute. With the sudden absence of light, the deck fell into darkness.

Elizabeth felt his smile pull gently against her face. “The old sea dog.” Will drew his arms tighter and his tone became reminiscent. “I wonder if she knows about Scarlett…and Giselle?”

Elizabeth pulled back to look into his dark eyes. “Who–?

“It’s not important.” He gathered her back into his embrace, gently turning her face to his. “This is.” He tenderly kissed the willing lips. Elizabeth turned in his arms, pressing her body hard against his. Her arms rose to encircle his neck, pulling him closer still, as her eager lips met his. Neither was aware when Jack Sparrow passed them and joined the men at stern.

v v v v v

Under their feet, the Pearl slowed to the helm’s direction to ‘heave to’. A quick flash from the lantern in the hand of the man at the foot of the main mast and the boarding crews rushed to the lines; the longboats were lowered quickly to the dark waters below. A hand motion to his men and they scrambled over the side and into their assigned boats, leaving one man to board. Jack Sparrow stood at the stern, watching the couple slowly separate. A moment of touching and they parted…maybe forever, he speculated, it was always a possibility when a man took up cutlass and flintlock.

Will hurried toward him, but it was the girl’s lonely figure that held the pirate’s attention…and a fleeting thought. It was all too possible that Elizabeth Swann knew far better than William Turner the dangers that would face the lad before another day dawned. He had already learned from past experiences that there was little that escaped her intelligent and watchful eyes. He sighed. He also knew who she would blame should any harm befall the young blacksmith before his return to her arms.