Devil's Bargain

Chapter 2: Of Compasses and Crew

They set sail at dawn, with a small crew of ten. Elizabeth informed Jack that Will's ship was bound for Port Royal from Cuba, and no one had heard anything of it since. Traditional search efforts were useless. It was as though the ship had simply disappeared. But Elizabeth, through Jack, had a handy advantage.

Jack stood at the rail, swearing maliciously at that very thing that gave them this advantage. His compass, which he vowed to pitch into the surf at least once daily, spun aimlessly like a child's toy. He tried to concentrate on Will. Finding Will, would result in money. Money that Elizabeth had.

The compass spun confusedly, unsure whether it should point to Will, Elizabeth, or money. It stopped, pointing straight at him. “Bugger.”

“Having trouble?” said Elizabeth from directly behind him.

“Blasted thing gets all upset when anything gets complicated. Here, you try it.” He pressed it into her palm and backed away.

She watched the little arrow spin round and round. It stopped, pointing off the port bow. Jack glanced at it and began to shout orders for them to steer to port. He sauntered behind her and reached around to take the compass back. But not before he saw the arrow swing 180 degrees back.

Till it pointed straight at him. Elizabeth scoffed and snapped it shut. “Clearly it's confused.”

“Yes,” Jack said with a mischievous smile. “Undoubtedly.”


Once again, claustrophobia sent Elizabeth scurrying for the deck in the middle of the night. She needed air. Desperately. Propriety prompted her to dress appropriately, and she struggled into the beige silk gown she'd been wearing in Tortuga. She emerged from belowstairs and approached the deck rail, breathing a sigh of relief. After a few minutes in the night air, she felt only marginally better. She ignored the part of her that insisted her unrest had a name: Jack.

“'ello, poppet,” said a gravelly voice, and Elizabeth whirled to find one of the night crewmen strolling towards her, rather purposefully.

“Leave me alone,” she stated firmly, nevertheless turning to face him. He continued to approach. He was older, balding, with a paunch that hung over his breeches, and a cutlass dangling ominously from his belt.

“I don't mean ye no 'arm, sweet cheeks. Just want a bit o' company to pass the e'en, is all.”

“I'm fine without company, thanks,” she said, looking at Pintel warily. He was a foot away.

“Don't come any closer.”

“Or what? Or ye'll scream? Scream away. The Cap'n's passed out with rum and even if he did say ye were not to be touched on pain o' death, 'e won't know till the mornin', and that ain't going to help ye now.”

“Oi!” yelled another voice. A lanky man, with a glass eye. Ragetti. “Don't be stupid. The Cap'n meant what 'e said about 'er.”

“Shut yer trap,” the balding man snapped. “I'm jus' havin' a bit o' fun.”

“That's what Oi'm afraid of,” said Ragetti. “'E'll 'ave our 'ides, 'e will.”

“Stop yer interferin' nonsense!” roared the bald pirate, clearly having exceeded his rum rations. He rushed at the tall one, and Elizabeth ducked as swords were drawn. The clang of steel on steel rang out in the dark night.

“What's all this?” called Jack from in front of his cabin door. “Leave her alone! Elizabeth, come over here.”

She ran, making haste, to the safety of Jack. When she reached him, he nodded toward his cabin. “Better get inside, love, while I deal with those two.” She entered obediently, and he turned to the two crewmen.

“Just as promised, gents,” he said, tossing each of them a gold coin with a wink. They grinned greedily at each other.