Apprentice To The Sorcerer

It had to be the most unlikely assortment of people ever to sit a captain’s table. Jack’s cabin had enough size to deal with us all, but I still felt confined as I sat in betwixt Jack and Peter. Each man wanted me beside them. Peter wanted to discuss medicine and Jack wanted to explore my relationship with Peter. Gibbs sat on Jack’s other side, and beside him, Peter’s quartermaster, Mr. Crowley. Miss Bishop sat in betwixt Crowley and Peter.

So, we had once-cursed, once-dead, pirate legend, a doctor turned criminal turned slave turned pirate, a beautiful but jinxed hostage, an ex-naval officer, a woman pretending to be a man, and Mr. Crowley, who I could find no fault with so far. Following the logic of present company, he probably had a secret life as the wife of a naval officer.

Dinner turned out to be klipspringer, slaughtered specially for the meal. I thought of Jack’s enthusiasm for the beast, his great description of how to cook it. We hadn’t a pit to bury the thing in, so cook must have improvised like hell. It tasted delicious but I barely thought of it.

“So, you sail for Boston too?” Jack enquired.

“Aye, we want cooler waters,” Blood answered. “As long as we can steer clear of the British traffic. A lot of us want to eventually settle on our own island, a little pirate stronghold.”

“A place I know?” Miss Bishop asked.

“I don’t know, do I?” Blood winked at Miss Bishop, who blushed from her cleavage upward.

“I think every pirate dreams of his own island,” Jack said, smiling wryly. “Except me.”

“Any man who’s been marooned is likely to share your opinion,” Blood laughed. He turned to me. “So, Lei, what else have you been getting up to?”

I felt all eyes upon me. Putting my fork down, I toyed with the edge of my plate. “Nothing much, Doctor- I mean Captain Blood,” I said. “Medicine takes one hundred percent if one wants to advance.”

“You don’t fight?”

“Oh. Yes, I fight,” I answered, not looking at him. “I have a broken rib right now, but I’ll mend.”

“How did you do that?” Peter looked at my covered ribcage, as if he could see the injury through the cloth.

“A simple ship’s fight,” I answered. “It has been resolved by Captain Sparrow.”

Blood threw Jack an appraising look. “Did my boy give as good as he got?” he asked.

Jack stiffened at Blood’s possessive question, but I did not think any but Blood and I saw it. “Mr. Trapezia rendered Mr. Gihr unconscious with a single blow,” Jack said, causing everyone in the room to look at me again. “Probably accomplished by the fact he also dislocated the man’s jaw.”

I hadn’t known that. No wonder Gihr wasn’t talking very well or very often.

Peter slapped me on the shoulder, more lightly than he had when greeting me earlier. “Good lad,” he said.

“You really approve of people beating on each other?” Miss Bishop asked, a touch of indignation lacing her voice.

“A man has to defend himself,” Jack interrupted. “A small man must be twice as good at it to live half as long.” Lifting his ever-present bottle of rum, he took a small swig while looking directly at me.

I paled under that gaze. Jack felt upset with me for some reason. Perhaps it was because he didn’t like the fact that I already knew Blood, or perhaps it was the familiarity I had with the man. Too, it could be as simple as he hadn’t intended to dine with me; Blood had extended the invitation and Jack had smoothly agreed.

Jack, unless I missed my guess, was taking time to instruct me in the ways of piracy, indicating he felt at least a friendship with me. Perhaps my acknowledgement of Blood threatened his position as my mentor.

I kept quiet, my eyes latched onto Jack’s finely boned wrist and tattered bracers. His barbarism seemed only matched by his elegance. I loved the contradiction of Jack Sparrow. How could such a brute also be such a divine creature? He seemed the center of a wheel, staying firmly balanced and in one place while everything around him fell to shit. Even now, looking at me with that warning stare, his eyes the color of old blood, he seemed perfectly poised.

We ate in silence for a short while, an awkward silence pregnant with misgivings. Gibbs broke the pall with an inquiry on the crates of tea confiscated by Blood. Blood laughed. “Medical supplies,” he announced, “Which I’d be glad to share.”

“Thank you,” Jack said. “What will you take in return?”

Blood looked at me. For a brief, panicked moment I thought he would ask for me. I saw the question, the consideration in his eyes. He wanted to continue mentoring me. He shrugged though, his eyes moving away from me. “Perhaps an equal trade with foodstuffs?” he ventured. “My men aren’t eating well.”

“Gibbs,” Jack said.

Gibbs reached into his coat and brought out his accounts book. He dragged his thumb down a page, squinting in the low light. “Aye,” he said. “We can spare it. We have five extra barrels of bambara beans, extra flour, and a few cured hams.”

“Fair,” Blood said. “I have linens, wood alcohol, thread, needles, an array of herbs, and various instruments.”

Jack looked to me. “Lei?” he said.

“The wood alcohol and the linens sell the idea,” I said swiftly. “Fresh bandages are important to keep toxemia at bay.”

“Done,” Jack said simply. “Why don’t we sail together so Lei can take advantage of your medical knowledge?”

“A splendid idea,” Blood agreed. “We are safer together anyway, I think.”

After our meal I gathered up the dirty plates, excused myself, and fled. All the way to the galley I mused over my predicament. If Jack truly had a bone to pick with me, he’d let me know somehow. I didn’t have to worry about Blood taking me on his ship permanently; he’d already thought of it and decided not to take me. Everything had to be fine, I just felt nervous because it could so easily have not been fine.

The stench wafting up from the very bottom of the ship made me wonder who manned the bilge pumps. Surely it shouldn’t be so strong a smell! I shouted to Mokulu to follow me down into the ship’s belly, determined not to sleep anywhere near such an odor.

Among the rats both living and dead, lying in the gravel bedding of the bilge, we found two very dead goats. Neither one of us could figure out how long they’d been there or why the bilge operator hadn’t said anything or cleared them out. Mokulu hauled them topside, grumbling in his language under his breath. The pump man left me too. I was alone in the darkest, most foul area of the ship, without a lamp.

I took out my pipes and played, focusing on a cool breeze strong enough to clear the area. The spirits coalesced around me, rushed to do my bidding. Their formation caused a wind tunnel, sucking every last bit of the pong from the bilge. When I finished, they dissolved. The air now smelled clean and fresh. I laid odds that a lot of moisture had been drawn up as well.

Turning to go, I walked directly into Jack. In the dark I only knew it was him from his scent.

I staggered backward, barely catching myself from falling. “Captain,” I said, not quite successful in holding in my jittery fear.

“Lei,” Jack said. “I see you’ve found yet another use for the pipes.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Did Mokulu make a report to you?”

“He did, which is why I’m down here,” Jack replied. “I saw the goats before Mr. Mokulu threw them overboard. They had some kind of pox. You may have just saved everyone on this ship from miasma.” I heard Jack’s shirt rustle as he moved a bit. “I hope you know how much I value you aboard this ship?”

This tenderly posed yet vaguely menacing question gave me pause. “Captain Sparrow,” I said softly. “I knew Peter Blood from my time on the Envoy. He was convicted of treason to the Crown and we took him to Barbados as a slave. I learned from him while he was on ship.”

“That much I discerned for myself, Lei,” Jack said tonelessly. “Have a good evening.”

In moments I was alone again.