Saints and Sinners
Chapter Twenty-two
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Usual disclaimers
Many apologies for not posting this
chapter for so long – I’m afraid I lost interest slightly.
I can think of an ending to it – Ani
…
Chapter Twenty two
Four days later
Jack leaned on the rail of his
ship, watching as the port of Saint Marta grew larger in his sight and wondered
what they would find this time – if anything.
He idly mused whether Celia was indeed right and it was a
meaningless journey, but mentally shrugged, grinning as he noticed a number of
ships in the harbour. ‘If there’s
nothin’ here, there’s somethin’ here…’ he chuckled, casting an expert eye
over each ship to see how low in the water they were, how many cannons he
considered them to have, and what general state the ship was in.
no one in particular.
“Just what I was thinkin’, Cap’n,”
Thomas Frazer, the master gunner, agreed as he joined his captain.
an’ chain shot.”
“You shall have some,” Jack nodded,
wanting to attack one of the ships already, and sod what they had come here for
originally. “Find out who can speak
Spanish amongst th’crew, apart from José, of course.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” the Scotsman grinned
as he went eagerly on his errand, itching to feel the pounding of his guns once
more.
‘I think I’ll leave Celia on
board this time,’ Jack mused. ‘I’ll
go an’ tell her…’ With a last look
at the schooner on the far side of the harbour, Jack pushed himself off the
rail and followed in the wake of his gunner.
…
“Oh! Oliver!” Celia exclaimed, as the Irishman stepped out of his
cabin as she made her way from the galley where she had been helping Toby
prepare for supper. She had mostly
managed to stay out of his way for the past few days and knew that he and Jack
had not exchanged a single word in all that time.
“Aye, I’m sorry yer had ter see
me,” he sniped, going to push past her but changing his mind and grabbing her
arm, pulling her quickly into his cabin and closing the door.
“Oliver…
this isn’t…”
words. “We’ll steal away from th’ship
an’ make a life fer ourselves.”
“
gasped. “No!”
“No?”
Oliver repeated. “What do you mean,
no? Are yer frightened of
th’cap’n? He won’t find us, I’ll make
sure of that.”
“No,”
Celia cried again, pulling away from him.
“I don’t want to, I don’t want you
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>!”
“Come
on, me darlin’,” he crooned softly, moving towards her once more.
have on board. I don’t care that he’s
had yer now… I want yer, an’ not just fer that - an’ that is all
yer for.”
“No,
Oliver,” she stated firmly, backing away towards the door.
“I don’t
believe you,” Oliver snorted derisively.
“We could live an honest life,” he insisted, frowning as she moved away
from him. “I could find work as a
farmer.”
“No… I’m
s-sorry, Oliver, but I want to stay with Jack.”
“You
exploded. “But… what about us – yer
can’t tell me th’kisses we shared mean nothin’ t’yer.”
“I… I
you, Oliver,” Celia sighed, “Just… not in
that way. I’m sorry.”
“Fine!”
he snapped, turning on his heel and storming to the door.
“Oliver!”
she cried, running to the door in time to see him storm along the corridor then
disappear around the corner, shoving past Elliot Deane, who had been released
from the brig along with Gabriel Jennings, the previous day.
door in case the young crewman saw her and got the wrong idea.
do I do
waited until the coast was clear and crept from the cabin, her heart pounding
in case she should bump into the Irishman again. ‘
could like him as he wants me to
thought as she made her way towards the hatch.
‘Maybe when Jack gets bored…
no, Oliver wouldn’t want to be second best and I’m not sure I could feel that
way for him anyway. Damn you, Jack
Sparrow, for having such a hold on me.’
“Celia,
luv! I’ve been lookin’ everywhere fer
you.”
“Jack!”
she breathed, grateful for the dimness of the corridor so he could not see her
blush. “I-I think I must have taken a
wrong turn,” she lied, smiling at him and hoping that he would not see through
her.
“I think
it might be best if yer stay on board this time, eh? We’re not goin’ ter be raidin’ anywhere this time, not that we
did last
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>time,” he sighed, rolling his eyes at the missed
opportunity in Saint Georges, “but I
don’t want you ashore in case there
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'> any trouble, savvy?”
“You
won’t get any argument from me,” she declared with relief.
churchyard?”
“Frazer
will draw it an’ if needs be, you can come an’ have a look yerself, if it’s
safe.”
“All
right,” Celia nodded, threading her arm through his as they walked along.
“Gettin’
quite bold, aren’t we, Miss Hammond?”
“Oh…
I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, snatching her hand away, her head reeling in
confusion.
“Eh?
chortled, taking her hand and placing it back in the crook of his arm.
“O-one
day, what?”
“You’ll
trust me.”
“I’m
sorry, Jack,” Celia whispered, still trying to cope with what had happened with
Oliver, without having to deal with Jack’s teasing as well.
“You all
right, luv?” Jack stopped and peered at
her, pulling her into the shaft of light streaming from the hatch so he could
see her more clearly and frowning when she avoided his gaze.
Celia
floundered for a moment, trying desperately to come up with some excuse – the
last thing she wanted was another argument, or worse, between Jack and his
helmsman. “I-I suppose I’m a little
tired,” she eventually replied, the blush that crept across her face once more
giving credence to her words.
“Heh!
tonight then, eh? But not
“You are
an incorrigible rouge,” she scolded without malice.
“Aye,
an’proud of it!” Jack boasted as they climbed the steps to the main deck.
watch – keep an eye on you.”
“
“I’d
rather you had,” he shrugged, not telling her the real reason was that he
wanted an eye kept on Oliver Fernan, who was staying on board due to his
injury. His quartermaster had had a
word with the tall Irishman and assured Jack that Oliver would not be causing
any trouble, but that did not quell the unease in Jack’s mind and he vowed to
watch his helmsman carefully –
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'> carefully.
…
“Yer
sure yer up ter being ashore?” Gabriel Jennings enquired as Oliver caught them
up on the quayside. “Yer were stabbed
only a few days ago.”
“It’s a
mere scratch,” the Irishman snarled crossly, walking ahead of his friends in
order to lose them, or at least not face any more questions.
“What’s
with ‘im?” Elliot pondered quietly as he fell into step with Gabriel.
“It’s
her, ain’t it?” Adam Butler chipped in as a group of men walked along the
docks, eager to find a tavern, but also keen to be the one to find out about
what sort of cargo the schooner may be carrying, as their captain had
instructed them to do, discreetly.
“He’s got it bad fer her but knows ‘e can’t ‘ave her.”
“Aye,
true enough,” Elliot shrugged, the first words he had said to his crewmate
since being released from the brig.
“If
yer’ve all finished talkin’ about me?” Oliver exploded, rounding on the
crew. “It’s none of anybody’s damned
business!”
“Whoa!
th’cap’n’s missus.”
Oliver
grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him hard against a wall, his face twisted
into an angry snarl. “It is none of yer
fuckin’ business, Butler, or any of yer,” he growled, shoving his crewmate to
one side and storming off in the opposite direction.
“I’ll
kill ‘im!” Adam Butler yelled, making to go after the Irishman.
“Leave
it,” Jacob Sumner implored, placing himself between the two irate pirates.
fer fightin’. Come on, we all need a
drink, even if Mouse doesn’t.”
“Nah, we
know what Mouse needs,” Elliot chuckled, nudging Gabriel Jennings next to him.
“Yer’ll
be gettin’ a fist in th’gob if yer ain’t careful,” Jacob warned the younger
man. “Mine…”
“Sorry,”
Elliot replied sarcastically, pulling a face behind the watchman’s back.
good mood today?”
“Ask me
when I’ve had a few ales inside me,” Gabriel quipped, drawing laughter and
agreement from his mates. “Here, this
place’ll do us,” he announced, steering them all towards a tavern lying back
from the main street. “Remember what
th’cap’n said – discreet, savvy!”
…
“What
d’yer make of it, Cap’n?” Thomas Frazer mused as they all looked at the
gravestone, which was carved in exactly the same way as Rebecca Goodluck’s had
been in Saint Georges.
“Your
guess is as good as mine,” Jack shrugged, tugging at his beard braids as he
thought. “Maybe we
Celia, eh?”
“Shall I
go an’ fetch her, Cap’n?” José Santos offered.
“Nah,
I’ll go myself. Yer can go an’ have yer
leave now – an’ don’t forget…”
“Aye,
ask around about th’ships in th’port,” Noah Trinity grinned as he and his mates
made their way from the churchyard, leaving Jack standing alone, staring at the
stone.
‘
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>,’ he thought, shaking himself from his reverie and
starting towards the gate, stopping dead again as he spotted Oliver Fernan
walking down the lane leading away from the town. ‘
where in th’world are you goin’
opened the gate in case it squeaked and crept along the street, keeping close
to the buildings in case he needed to dart into a doorway to save from being
discovered. He had to run as he saw his
helmsman turn into an alleyway and hoped that he would not lose him.
visitin’ a whore
around the corner and pulled a face at the empty alley.
his style
himself for losing the Irishman and he prayed that he’d find him again and
discover where it was his crewman was heading.
“Why are
yer followin’ me, Cap’n?”
‘
admitted with a shrug as Oliver stepped out from a doorway halfway down the
alley. “I just wondered why you weren’t
on ship an’ where you were goin’.”
“I’m on
shore leave, therefore it ain’t any of yer concern where I’m goin’,” Oliver
snapped, turning away.
“You may
be on shore leave but I’m still yer captain an’ you don’t talk ter me like
that,” Jack frowned, putting his hands on his hips and glaring his
crewman. “You seem ter know where you’re
headin’…”
“I
fancied a walk in th’hills,” the Irishman retorted, nodding his head towards
the hilly countryside on the outskirts of town. “Is that all right with yer?”
“Fernan,”
Jack warned. “Talk ter me like that
again…”
“An’
yer’ll what? Throw me in th’brig?
sneered, turning his head and glowering at his captain.
with her, hmm? How long b’fore she
regrets givin’ herself t’yer - at least I care about her!” Oliver exploded.
“An’ I
don’t?” Jack enquired, the evenness of his voice belied by the coldness of his
tone. “She doesn’t want yer,
Fernan. She never did, savvy?”
“Liar!
wheedled yer way into her affections, an’ as soon as yer’ve had yer fun, yer’ll
cast her off like a torn sail. Well
I’ll be waitin’,” the Irishman promised, taking a step towards his captain.
Celia – I’ll wait an’ mend her broken heart.”
“Th’way
you’re goin’, yer won’t be on board long enough ter see if I break her heart or
not,” Jack growled, also taking a step closer to the bigger man.
“Yer
goin’ ter throw me off? Ha!
her, an’ th’crew.”
“I am
captain therefore my word is law, savvy?”
“Yer
captain of a pirate ship, therefore we can vote yer off if we see fit,
Oliver mocked.
“Are you
threatening mutiny, Fernan?” Jack barked, his face dark with fury.
Or are yer all mouth an’ no breeches?”
“I ain’t
threatening mutiny – just remindin’ ye that yer word ain’t law.”
“I can
still throw you off th’ship an’ believe me, you’re gettin’ even closer to it.”
“Yer
just lookin’ fer an excuse ter be rid of me,” Oliver retorted, “just in case
she sees through yer an’ realises she wants me.”
“Why
don’t you get it into yer thick skull?
She does not want you – she told me herself. She sees you as a brother type figure an’ nothin’ more.”
“No!
“She what
growled, advancing once more on his crewman.
“She kissed you… or did you kiss her?”
“I kissed her an’ she
reciprocated,” the tall Irishman replied scornfully. “Didn’t know that, did yer, Cap’n?”
“It doesn’t alter th’fact that she
wants me – that she actually told me that she wants me, so you can either go
an’ screw another woman an’ forget her, or you can leave th’ship.”
“Yer’ll make me leave anyway,” he
snorted, turning his back once more as he tried to hide the turmoil raging
inside.
“You know I won’t.
an’ th’rest of th’crew like yer… an’ yes, Celia would take it
badly. But then’ I’d be able ter
comfort her, eh?” Jack taunted, not able to resist the dig.
“You…” Oliver spun on his heel
quick enough to make Jack reach for his dagger but not pull it from its
sheath. “Yer a bastard, Captain
Sparrow. I love Celia but th’only
person yer care about is yourself. What
Jack Sparrow wants, Jack Sparrow gets, eh?”
“Which is why I’m th’most
successful pirate captain in th’Spanish Main, even if I’m not th’most
fearsome. You’ve never complained about
my captaincy before.”
“You’ve never seduced an innocent
young girl before.”
“Ah, an’ if you’d had yer
way with her, that would’ve been different, eh? How?”
“Because I love her!
her as a plaything.” Oliver reeled as
the blow from Jack’s fist sent him flying backwards.
“You’re not th’only one who cares
about her, Fernan! Why do you think we
sailed ter Port-au-Prince when I didn’t even know if she was alive, if she’d
been raped or anythin’, hmm? Why do you
think I ordered you an’ Jennings ter destroy th’church in Tortuga?
danger? Why do you think I keep her on
board, even though I know she doesn’t like it?
Because I fuckin’ care about her as well!” Jack shouted, clenching and
unclenching his fists as he spoke. “An’
not because she was a virgin, either!”
He fished in an inside pocket of his coat before pulling out a leather
pouch and slinging it at his crewman.
“Here – this should cover yer purse an’ reimburse you for your
belongings.”
“Yer not forcin’ me off
th’ship! Oliver yelled, moving towards Jack again and wincing as his wound
tugged at him, bringing him up short.
“I’ll round up th’crew an’ yes, I will lead a mutiny!”
“I won’t allow that,” Jack stated,
shaking his head. “I can’t allow
that!” He aimed a blow at Oliver’s
ribs, not so low as to damage the stab wound further, but low enough to double
the larger man over and then he balled his fists, smashing them into the back
of his neck, knocking him out cold.
“Sorry, Mouse,” Jack sighed with regret. “But if you stay on board, one of us’ll wind up dead…”
gone flying as Oliver fell and tucked it down the front of the Irishman’s
breeches so that it blended with the natural bulge, and stood there, trying to
decide what to do.
what looked like a derelict building just down from where the stricken man lay,
so bent down and slid his hands beneath Oliver’s shoulders and dragged him to
the building, panting with the effort as he hoisted him inside.
his brow with the end of his bandana once they were inside, then took off his
hat and unwound the red sash from his head and cut it in half using his dagger,
tying first Oliver’s hands and then his feet together.
man, Jack put his hat back on his head and strode from the building and back
along the alleyway.
‘
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>…?’ Jack mused to himself as he reached the end of
the alley and looked along the street, fervently hoping that he would not bump
into any of his crew. He grinned
shrewdly as he saw a man leading a horse and cart down the street and walked
forward, approaching him with open arms and a wide smile.
(Sir, would you like to earn some money?)
“Hacer
qué?” (doing what?) the Spaniard enquired, eyeing Jack suspiciously.
Jack
checked his pockets, inside and out before pulling out two peso’s and showing
them to the man, whose eyebrows shot up as he looked at Jack with renewed
light.
“Si,”
the man nodded eagerly. “What do you
want doing?”
Jack led
him down the alley, hoping that they were not drawing too much attention, but
glancing around, no-one seemed to be taking any notice of them whatsoever.
relieved to see Oliver still unconscious and beckoned the man inside, holding
his hands out to show he meant no harm as the Spaniard hesitated.
away as you can travel,” he informed him in his native tongue.
“That is
all?” the man asked incredulously.
“Just take him away for two peso’s?”
“That is
all,” Jack grinned, pressing the coins into his hand. “Let’s get him aboard.
Your word he will come to no harm?”
“I do
not harm people unless they want to harm me,” the Spaniard shrugged, lifting
Oliver’s feet as Jack took his shoulders.
Between them, they hoisted the stockily built man onto the cart and
covered him over with sackcloth.
“Gracias,”
Jack smiled, clasping his hands together and bowing his head, sighing
regretfully as the cart started to move away.
‘Pity
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>,’ he mused, a frown creasing his brow.
good helmsman
…
“Cap’n!
Frazer exclaimed, as he and Josia Phelps entered the run down tavern and
spotted their captain sitting at the bar and nursing a mug.
“An’ now
you’ve found me,” Jack sniped, not looking round. “What do you want?”
“We’ve
discovered what yer wanted ter know, like – ‘bout th’ships, an’ all,” the
master gunner explained quietly, exchanging glances with his mate at their
captain’s mood.
“Good
fer you,” Jack retorted, downing the contents of his mug in one and slamming it
on the counter, indicating for another to be brought.
“Erm…
d’yer want me ter arrange th’shot yer promised me?” the Scotsman asked
hesitantly. He had met up with Myles
Burford a few minutes previously and the helmsman had told him about Oliver
Fernan’s bad temper earlier that day and he wondered if the two men’s moods
were coincidental or not. He suspected
not.
“Aye.”
“I… erm,
need some money ter pay fer it…”
“Here,”
Jack threw a few coins at his crewman and waved his hand again, hoping this
time the two men would take the hint and leave him alone.
“Thankee,
Cap’n,” Thomas deferred, scurrying out of the tavern with Phelps following
quickly behind. “Bloody hell!” he
muttered. “Must be somethin’ in th’air
around here.”
“More
like somethin’ in th’cabin on board,” Josia mused, arching an eyebrow at his
crewmate.
“Hmm,”
the gunner agreed as they both made their way to where they had seen a
munitions store.
‘
chided himself some time later. ‘
longer.’ With a
deep sigh, Jack stood and weaved his way unsteadily across the floor of the
tavern, wondering if Oliver had woken yet and whether they would make sail
before he had chance to wake and find his way back to Saint Marta.
just hope th’farmer lives far away, eh
thought wryly as he opened the door and took in the fresher air outside in an
attempt to sober himself up and he slowly made his way to the quayside, trying
to work out the best way to break the news to the men about their crewmate, and
worst of all to Celia, whom he suspected liked the Irishman more than she
admitted.
…
“Is
everythin’ in order, Mister Gibbs?” Jack barked as he climbed on board his
ship, scanning the decks for any sign of Celia and not being sure whether he
was glad or disappointed when he did not spot her.
“Aye,
Captain,” the quartermaster confirmed.
“Th’change of watch is in a half turn and then th’rest of th’men can
have their leave.” He had been filled
in on events ashore by various men and had been half dreading his captain’s
return to the ship, but to his surprise, Jack was not as inebriated as he had
thought that he would be, although his mood seemed as dark as Frazer and Phelps
had told him it was.
“Very
well. Send Celia ter my cabin an’ keep
yer eye on th’schooner. I noticed
activity on th’dock’s by where she’s berthed...”
“Aye,
we’d noticed it too,” Gibbs nodded.
“They might be leaving sooner than we thought.”
Jack
stopped, frowning as he pondered something, then turned back to the portly
man. “Postpone leave fer an hour or so
– promise th’men extra grog ter sweeten them.”
“All
right,” Joshamee sighed, knowing the decision would not go down well, but
seeing the reason for it nonetheless.
“Go and fetch Celia,” he instructed Peter Swain as he watched Jack make
his way to his cabin and wondered if there were going to be any ructions on
board, as there appeared to have been ashore.
“Miss
Celia? Th’cap’n wants you in his
cabin,” the ship’s lad informed her with a toothy grin as he peered around the
doorway of the galley.
“Right
away?” she asked, wondering if she was to leave the potatoes and go
immediately.
“Aye, I
reckon so.”
“All
right,” Celia sighed, drying her hands on her breeches and following the
youngster along the gloomy corridor.
Jack
paced his cabin, wondering what to say to the young woman, whether to confront
her or just keep quiet. He still felt a
mixture of anger and regret bubbling inside him at the argument between himself
and his helmsman. ‘
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>,’ he thought. ‘It’s
not her fault… although
I still reckon she
likes him more than she says… maybe Fernan was right, maybe she was… is
afraid of me…’ Jack sighed heavily and
yanked the cabin door open in time to see the object of his desire emerge from
the hatch.
“Ah,
Celia! Miss us?” he teased as he walked
over to her, his anger dissipating as he looked at her.
“You’ve
been gone a long time,” she fretted. “I
was worried in case there was more trouble.”
“I told
you there wouldn’t be, besides, I left enough crew ter sail th’ship out if
necessary.”
“That’s
not the point!” Celia frowned, blushing as she realised her admission in front
of the crew.
“Ah,”
Jack chuckled, throwing his arms wide, circling his wrists and leaning towards
her. “So yer
“Did you
find anything in the churchyard?” she sighed, quickly changing the subject
before she embarrassed herself further.
“Aye,
Miss Celia,” Thomas Frazer told her, breaking away from instructing his gunnery
crew where to store the ball, chain and grape shot that he had purchased.
th’one in Saint Georges, with this…” he handed her a piece of paper with a
drawing of rope with a snakes head.
“Any ideas?”
“No,” she
frowned. “What was the name of the
person who’s grave it was?”
“Allport,”
Jack put in. “Roy Allport.
“None,”
Celia replied absently as she continued to study the drawing.
“Cap’n!
sail. “They’re stockin’ up,” Matthias
Swain announced from his watch position.
Celia looked anxiously from the paper to Jack, closing her eyes in
despair as she read his intentions in his eyes.
“Looks
like we
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'> stock up elsewhere,” Jack chuckled wryly, his
earlier mood and worry temporarily forgotten as he realised they would be
leaving the port a lot sooner than anticipated.
“Aye –
that schooner!” Thomas cackled, rubbing his hands with glee, looking sideways
at his captain and thankful that his earlier bad humour seemed to have
passed.
“S-shall
I go to the cabin now?” Celia enquired, trying to muster up some courage to
face what she knew would be coming.
“Not yet
– unless yer want to?” Jack grinned, his mind fully on the schooner and nothing
else.
“Peter
said you wanted to see me?” she pressed, wondering why he had ordered her up
there.
“Eh?
Doesn’t matter – not important,” he replied airily, wishing he could
risk looking more closely at the schooner with his spyglass, but not daring to
in case someone on board the other ship noticed and their cover would be blown.
“So you
don’t want me?” Celia retorted crossly.
“You brought me up here for nothing?”
“Sorry,
luv,” Jack shrugged absently. “See yer
later.”
“You infuriating,
aggravating, annoying…” she hissed under her breath, clenching and unclenching
her fists as she walked back to the hatch, looking at him as she went to go
down and finding the corners of her lips twitching as she wryly thought how
typical of Jack it was. ‘
mso-bidi-font-style:italic'>,’ she mused, shaking her head ruefully.
you, Jack Sparrow
“Cap’n!
Burford called across the deck.
“Don’t
worry about Mouse,” Jack sighed heavily.
“He’s left th’ship.”
“
helmsman gasped, looking down at his captain on the main deck from his position
at the helm. “Left th’ship?”
“Aye,
I’ll fill yer all in later,” Jack evaded vaguely. ‘
we’re far enough away that he can’t catch up
“H-he’s
left?” Celia cried, turning away from the hatch and walking back over to
Jack. “How do you know?”
“I
bumped into him,” Jack replied gently, hoping that she would not press further
and force him to lie to her, but at the same time knowing that it was a
hopeless wish.
“W-what
did he say?” Celia pressed, struggling against the tears.
forced him from the ship
herself. ‘Oh,
no!’
“Not a
lot,” Jack shrugged, a knot of unease growing in his stomach.
“Jack…
I…”
“Later,
Celia,” he told her. “It can wait ‘til
later, eh?”
“All
right,” she frowned, making her way back to the hatch, hurt at both the news
and the curt dismissal by Jack.
…