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The Sacking of Port Royal
by TortugaBlack

CHAPTER 5: Captain Bully Hayes and the Rona

Jack Sparrow pushed through the tavern doors and drifted into the crowd flowing toward the docks, preoccupied with the possibilities afforded him by his first mate’s intelligence. That several of the smaller, less successful ships had signed with Pease and Reyes didn’t surprise him. The days of the great treasure ships and fast profits from the hit and run course of action had come and gone. With the arrival of the British Navy, ships loaded with plunder worth stealing were now escorted by military vessels with the firepower ­–and the manpower – to discourage even the hardiest pirate crew. Those of the Brethren who continued to survive in the Caribbean used cunning, careful planning and avoided situations that might put them on a collision course with the British Navy; Captain Jack Sparrow was the best of them and one of those plans was already in the making.

Smiling to himself the captain of the Black Pearl shouldered his way through the busy throng of laughing whores, burdened sailors, and profit-hungry arms dealers. If properly set in motion, his fledgling plan could add to his crew’s coffers – without drawing the attention of the British – and still fulfill a promise long overdue.

Several crewmen of the Jackal pushed past the lithe figure in greatcoat and tricorn without recognition; some with kegs of powder balanced on each shoulder, others loaded down with the weight of heavy chains and leg irons. Sparrow’s smile faded at the sight of the shackles. The Sea Jackal, a slave ship, captained by Ben Pease was new to the Caribbean and nothing he had heard since her arrival was good. Before his plans could go forward he needed to know more. Determination lengthened his stride.

It was in the dark of a waning moon by the time Sparrow stepped onto the docks, the long wooden piers’ only light rendered by lanterns hanging from the various ships and a few mounted at pilings up and down the narrow walkways. The tall ships rode at their moorings, their masts naked of their great sails, stark lances against the backdrop of the bay. Heading in the direction of his own berth, Sparrow’s experienced eye quickly settled on the small two-masted sloop nestled in the shadow of the Black Pearl.

Having found her, Sparrow moved out of the flow of traffic and eyed the Rona with interest. Even without knowing her home port, he could have picked the sloop out as a stranger to the Caribbean by her exotic South Seas design and her lighter rigging of double topsails, single topgallant, and royal. Berthed alongside the Black Pearl with her bulk in tonnage and her strength in heavy firepower, the Rona with her small clean lines, looked like a whippet curled at the side of a mastiff. Aboard the Pearl, her dark sails still stowed, a hive of activity rushed about her decks, the crew unaware of her captain’s close scrutiny.

Satisfied with the activities aboard his own ship, Sparrow walked to the gangplank of the Rona and hailed the ship. At his shout a seaman strolled forward, his hand at rest on the flintlock tucked in a faded sash at his waist.

“Sailor! Captain Jack Sparrow wishes words with Captain Hayes.”

The seaman nodded briskly and stepped out of Sparrow’s sight, allowing another to take his place at the ship’s rail. A moment passed, then another before the sailor returned. “Step aboard, Captain Sparrow, the cap’n be waiting your pleasure in his cabin.”

Sparrow acknowledged the welcome with a brief nod as he mounted the plank. Following the sailor aft, the captain of the Black Pearl drew watchful glances from passing crew, but none moved to stop him. A moment later with a hard rap to a cabin door and a briefer announcement to the man within, Sparrow’s escort stepped aside and admitted Sparrow. The door closed behind him.

“Welcome aboard, Captain Sparrow.” A big man solidly built and in his prime stood and motioned the other to a seat. His dark hair, long over his ears but free of adornment, framed a broad scarred, but not uncomely face. “I got your message. Sit. There’s ale and rum. Have a drink and tell me what brings you aboard the Rona.”

Waved to the chair across the table, Sparrow swept the tricorn from his head and dropped it next to the bottles and two tankards. Both men settled into their chairs, carefully doing so at the same time. “Captain Hayes.” The kohl-rimmed eyes settled on the taller man. “It would seem your crew has, shall we say, shared information of an interesting and likely profitable nature with the more transient inhabitants of this fine town.”

“Bully!” the big man roared. “Name’s Bully and if you’re saying our having seen a British warship in the channel headed northeast under full sail seemed of interest to the residents of this fair village…you’d be right.”

Sparrow leaned forward with interest, his hands flat on the table in plain sight of the other. “Tell me more.”

“Not much more to tell,” Bully Hayes commented. He reached for the bottle of rum and raised an inquiring eyebrow. Sparrow nodded and he tipped the bottle over first one and then the other of the tankards. Finished, he set the bottle aside and allowed Sparrow first choice before continuing. “We’d beached the Rona on a small islet this side of the straits for careening when the British warship was spotted leaving the channel. We put a glass on her and by fair reckoning estimated her to be crewed by at least twice the complement needed. Being out of the water and fair pickin’s, I’d be lying if I said that didn’t worry us a bit so we kept a close eye on her until the mists took her. A tall bloke with the trappings of a commodore was at her helm doing a lot of pacing with a Tory-wigged lieutenant at his side.”

“Did you put a glass to her stern?”

“Aye. ” Hayes took a drink from his tankard. “She was the Dauntless.”

Sparrow took a drink of his own, allowing silence to settle for a moment between them. Setting the tankard down, he slid back in his chair and studied the big man across from him. “It’s been rumored you sailed up from the South Seas in the wake of the Sea Jackal…tell me of Ben Pease.” The touch of anger that flickered in the eyes of the bigger man did not go unnoticed.

“Ben Pease is a blackbirder and a black heart – a man who should not be allowed to walk this earth on land or on the deck of his blood-stained ship!”

“Ahhh…” Sparrow pursed his lips in a thoughtful line, his fingers again stroked absently at the beaded braids on his chin. “Business dealings. . .or blood feud?”

“Both!” Bully Hayes roared, pushing to his feet, pale blue eyes cold with his anger. A tall man in the white linen of the tropics, the captain of the Rona paced the cabin in big bold strides, his rage and agitation accented by each step taken in the high-topped seaman’s boots, the floorboards beneath resounding in rhythm to his wrath.

“A man can forgive misunderstanding in business.” The anger damped, Hayes returned to the table. “Hell, man, we’re pirates, buccaneers, scallywags, and profiteers. The scum of the high seas! But we become far worse when we forget honor…” He swore and unconsciously fingered the butts of flintlocks protruding from each side of the flashy red sash at his waist. “Even among thieves, there is honor…” He resumed his pacing, but his strides had shortened, his anger cooling.

“Ah, the Code,” Sparrow agreed reverently, more interested in the man’s words than his expression revealed.

Hayes threw back his head and a deep throaty laugh rocked the big man. He stopped and settled a cold-eyed stare on Sparrow. “Hell with the Code, man! They’re mostly guidelines anyway….”

Sparrow allowed a tiny smile to pull at one corner of his month.

“I’m talking honor, Captain! Honor between two men, a trusting that goes beyond the Code. The kind of honor in a promise shook on and agreed to between two men. Ben Pease is a man without honor!”

The interest quickened in the dark eyes of the seated man. He took another drink.

Hayes ceased his pacing, turned and faced the other. “We chased the Jackal across the South Seas, Captain, her holds full of black treasure taken from a small island under the protection of the Holy Church. The missionaries, an old couple who had lived with the heathens for most of their lives, were killed…brutally…and left on the beach as carrion for the birds.”

At the mention of clergy, Sparrow’s lips twitched and his hand hastily hid the flash of gold teeth. He nodded gravely, encouraging Hayes to go on.

“Against an agreement between us, Pease plundered that island, killed God’s own people, and left the mark of the Rona to carry the blame. The Rona is no blackbirder, Captain, but now I – and my crew – bear the mark for that black deed. We took to his wake intent on seeing him pay for what was done and to free those he had taken.

“But in his greed, Pease had taken on more stock than he could care for and by the second day into his run, they started dying on him. With a glass on the Jackal, we watched them thrown over the side. At first it was only one or two. By the fifth day out, they were pitchin’ those poor souls over the side like cordwood. Schools of sharks paced the Jackal.

“For the first few days we kept to her, hoping to force Pease to turn and fight. As long as the Jackal was overloaded and ridin’ low in the water, the Rona had the advantage in speed and maneuverability, but as more of his stock went over the side, the higher the Jackal rode in the water and she started pulling away from the Rona. We lost sight of her a day later, but trailed her…by the blood and feeding sharks left in her wake.”

Hayes ran agitated hands through his thatch of dark hair, pushing it from his face. “We made land on a small island south of here. Filled our water casks and took on fresh meat, fruit. Word there was the Jackal had stopped only long enough to wash her decks and holds. Those who saw her said she carried the smell of death. Pease was offering shine for help, but none would step forward, fearing that to help might earn them a place on her.”

Hayes settled back into his chair and again filled his tankard, tipping the bottle in Sparrow’s direction inquiringly. The Pearl’s captain nodded and his tankard was quickly filled.

“The Jackal pulled into Tortuga with her holds empty,” Sparrow commented thoughtfully.

Following the other’s thoughts, Hayes nodded. “Having lost his cargo, ol’ Ben came here looking for easy captures and a quick return on his labors.”

“Then he’ll be after domestic stock, trained and ready for a gentleman’s estate. A quick run to the St. Augustine stock sales and he’d do well.” Sparrow eased forward. “Which explains his eagerness to join with the likes of Diego Reyes and the recruiting of men to fill their crews. . .”

“They be fools what signs with Pease.” Hayes drove a clenched fist down hard on the table. “And he’ll not be signing any of my crew or I’ll personally keelhaul any man jack who even thinks on the deed. Aye, he’ll stay clear of me and mine.” Seeing something he couldn’t read behind the ink-black eyes of Sparrow, Hayes frowned. “This Diego Reyes, he deals in human plunder as well?

“Aye.’ Sparrow’s expression hardened with distain. “Reyes takes his pleasure in the pain and hardship of others and, as you said of Pease, is a man lacking in honor. The Spot and her crew have a taste for the game of capture, subdue, and torture. But it’s hard work with low return because the Moor is unwilling to take chances.” He frowned, finally reaching the matter that had brought him to the Rona. “Even without the threat of Norrington, and Pease helming the venture, this planned attack against Port Royal seems risky for the likes of Reyes.” Sparrow toyed with his tankard. “Unless he was assured of a quick profit with little or no risk to himself and the Spot.”

“Then there is available stock easier to be had?” Hayes ventured.

“There’s black treasure on most of the small islands in the Caribbean,” Sparrow explained. “But it’s wild stock, hard capture, hard transport with heavy losses even running them north for quick sale.”

Silence again fell between the two men as tankards were refilled and each took another drink. Sparrow drew a deep breath and eased back in his chair, his expression one of shrewd speculation. “However, along Port Royal’s northeastern shores are the estates of the island’s gentry with trained house servants and stables full of seasoned hands.” He paused, dark eyes thoughtful. “The British patrols the coastline around the estates with small, armed sloops to keep the likes of our kind at bay.”

Hayes looked up from his drink to meet the steady gaze of his drinking companion. “Then why attack Port Royal?”

“Aye, why Port Royal. . .” Sparrow purred softly, craftily pushing Hayes toward a conclusion he had already reached. “Even with a small fleet, why chance attacking a port town under the guns of a British fort, only to have to fight their way through the streets of a besieged town – house by house – picking up slaves one by one. Doesn’t make much sense now, does it, mate, taking what we know of Pease and Reyes?”

Hayes nodded, quickly making the connection. “However, if a small fleet sailed into the bay by the dark of the moon. . .”

“Unexpected and unseen…” Sparrow added. “They could hit the fort hard and keep Norrington’s Marines too busy defending their walls and Port Royal to worry about the estates.”

“Leaving Pease and this Moor – ­ Diego Reyes – to hit the estates with little or no risk to themselves,” Hayes finished.

“Aye, drawn like flies to fresh carrion.” Jack Sparrow pushed his tankard away and leaned closer. “The bay is the front door to Port Royal, but it is also the only door.” He watched the big man with sharp attention. “With the British cut off from the sea, Fort Charles will concentrate on the protection of Port Royal. Those signing up for this venture will be depending on the heavy guns of the Jackal and the Spot to lay down heavy fire on the fort to help protect the landing parties and help hold the British at bay until they return with the spoils and plunder of their raids. I see no profit for either Pease or Reyes in this venture, when what they seek lies northeast. You’ve chased the Jackal across the southern seas, will she stand by them?”

“When spoils are to be had elsewhere? No,” Hayes answered without hesitation. “He’ll not be there should his guns be needed.”

“Nor the Moor’s…” Sparrow added thoughtfully. “More than likely their plan is to pull out and make for the estates once they’re sure the patrols can’t be launched, leaving those who followed them to their fate.”

“Then they must be stopped!”

Something shifted behind the ink-black eyes of the Pearl’s captain. Long fingers played with the small braids on his chin as he studied the flushed, angry features of the larger man. “While it is a – dishonorable – and cowardly plan those two miscreants have hatched between them, I see no profit to be made in foiling them.” Sharp speculation was settled on the other man.

“I want Pease, his crew, and the Jackal.” Hayes leaned forward eagerly, seeing a chance to champion his cause. “I can’t take her alone. I might with your help.” He reached for the rum bottle and tilted it in a toast to his guest. “Ol’ Ben had just returned from a run on the Orient when he hit the island. . .if we can reach an accord whatever swag the Jackal carries is yours.”

“What of the Spot?”

“Her spoils for my crew if there be any in her holds and the ship’s yours,” Hayes offered without hesitation, his eyes snapping with the light of anticipated revenge.

Sparrow’s satisfaction was quickly masked as he studied the big man across from him. “Your crew will agree to this?”

“Some of them had family on that island.” Hayes’ hand tightened around his tankard. He looked up to meet Sparrow’s inquiry without hesitation. “All are loyal to me and to seeing ol’ Ben pay for his treachery. They will agree.” Sensing the interest he had aroused in the wiry, but smaller man across from him, Hayes leaned forward. “Don’t underestimate Pease, Captain Sparrow,” he cautioned. “Cowards and those without honor are often the most dangerous of men. Ben Pease is a dangerous man. Cornered, he will fight. With a knife or a blade, I’ve not seen his equal.”

Pushing to his feet, Hayes lifted his shirt and turned his back to the cabin’s faint light exposing a white ragged scar on the otherwise strong, heavily muscled back. Turning back around, he pointed out two smaller scars across his right side.

“He carries the skills and the steel of a master swordsman. Twice I’ve crossed blades with Pease and twice he’s bested me. He’s a devil with a sword!”. Releasing the shirt to fall back over the ugly scars, Bully Hayes slumped into his chair and took a healthy swig from his tankard. “He’s killed several of my crew…set upon them unawares and with no reason except that they were crew of the Rona. He’ll not be taken easily.”

“If the Jackal, captain and crew could be taken, what are your intentions?”

Hatred flared in the eyes of the bigger man. “If it could be done, I’d see Pease fought to a standstill by a man better than he, forced to his knees with an honorable blade at his throat, and his crew of misfits and his black ship in Davy Jones’ locker! If he lived, I’d see him on some worthless spit of land, locked in his own irons, gut cut with his own knife, and left marooned with naught but his own entrails in his lap.”

“Poetic,” Sparrow complimented. “Crude, but poetic.” Already he could sense the keystone to his plans poised and ready to fall into place.

Hayes sighed. “We had one chance and one chance only. While the Jackal was overloaded and heavy in the water, we might have been able to cripple and sink her. Now. . .” He shrugged. “The Rona is no match to take on the Jackal and I, nor any of my crew swordsman enough to take on Pease.” Flushed with anger and tempered by frustration, Hayes took another drink. “Because of that we’ve been forced to follow and wait. . .”

“. . .For the opportune moment,” Sparrow mumbled under his breath, his thoughts actively engaged on a plan and a certain young blacksmith, himself a ‘devil with a blade’ as Sparrow had learned both to his cost and his salvation. A lad who, he reasoned, with a bit of urging might be pushed into taking that last step toward fulfilling his destiny. It only remained for him to provide the necessary ‘seasoning’. . .and motivation. Something sparked in the dark eyes, hidden as carefully as a gambler’s bluff. “If I could provide a swordsman, a ship and crew what could help you achieve such lofty goals and promise some little profit to you and your crew as well, would you be interested?”

Hayes looked up in surprise, his eyes settling on the dark, unreadable ones of his slighter companion. “After all that I’ve told you?” Hayes shook his head in amazement. “If you’re still willing to take on this endeavor, I’d say we might have an accord afore this night’s out. Now tell me your plans.”

“Agreed, mate!” Sparrow picked up his tankard. “But first, a drink and to go with the drink, a tale or two of these duels you’ve fought with Pease. ” He leaned closer. “And leave nothing out of the telling…”