Apprentice To The Sorcerer

Mokulu and I spoke with Peter at great length, on up until the time we had to scrape his ship. Not being a great fan of filthy messes, I made my work as quick as possible. With the men we had and the motivation to finish, we were back on board the Pearl before the sun moved past its highest point. I’d bathed in the ocean, briefly, but I still felt nasty.

“Lei,” Jack said, motioning me to the rail. I knew this had to be about business or he’d have used my real name to address me.

“Yes captain?” I said, stopping a short distance away.

“I have a job for you.” Jack handed me a thrice-folded piece of parchment. “Since you and Barbossa know each other, I want you to deliver this message.” He sought my eyes and held them. “Stick around for the reply, even if he starts making noise.”

“Yes captain,” I murmured, turning to go.

“Lei?”

“Yes captain?” I turned back toward him quickly.

“I don’t know what kind of crew ‘e has.” Jack withdrew his brace and threw me the pistols one at a time. “Don’t hesitate to put a bullet in someone.”

“Take my brother?” I enquired.

“Not a bad idea,” Jack answered. He turned back to gazing out at the horizon and I knew I’d received my dismissal. I collected Mokulu and we started for Barbossa’s ship.

The long walk gave Mokulu and me a chance to speak unheard by others. Mokulu put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me close as we dug into the sand barefoot. “You have burdens, Hodari-Lei,” he said. “Your magic and captain’s magic so similar, yet not de same. You harness de chaos and he bring it like summer storm.”

I laughed. “Must look good on paper, but in real life it isn’t all that nice, is it?”

Mokulu shrugged. “It depend on how you look at it. No one want to marry his own self.”

“Did I say I wanted to marry Jack?” I threw him a disgusted look. “He’d never get married. And I have doubts he can even be faithful to one woman.”

“Men are weak,” Mokulu agreed. “I have committed this crime myself. But I do penance.” He bent down and dug his fingers into the wet sand, bringing out a pretty pink shell. Carefully, he washed it and tucked it into my sash. “I not think captain has this weakness. He enjoy himself with women, true, but he too deep to swim in shallow water for long. He look for his mate and I t’ink he t’ink you are her.”

“I’m a swan,” I answered, feeling sad but distantly so. “Swans mate for life.”

“So does de sparrow,” Mokulu pointed out softly. “I try not to get in de way wi’ you two now. I see t’ings neither one of you see yet.”

“And you can’t tell me?” I smiled up at him.

“Not yet.” Mokulu grinned back, showing his amazingly white teeth. “You will tell me instead, and I will say I told you so.”

I ruffled his knotted hair. “Probably,” I admitted.

“So what do we bring to dis Barbossa?” Mokulu asked.

“A letter from Jack.” I pulled it out. “You know, there was a time I wouldn’t have been out of his sight a minute before I read this, but now I find myself trusting him. He always gets us out of the scrapes he gets us into, which makes for an interesting time of it, if anxious.” I put the missive back, unread.

“I trust Captain Jack Sparrow,” Mokulu said, putting his hand over his heart. “He always have a mwanajeshi in Sabado Mokulu.”

“I feel bad,” I said. “I thought Mokulu was your first name. I’m your family and I didn’t know your name was Sabado.”

“You know my heart, you not need to know letters that parents made me,” Mokulu said. “You have many names and you are only my Hodari to me.”

I smiled. “Elizabeth, Lizzie, Eliza, Lizzie-beth, Lei,” I recited.

“Lad, lass, lassy, boy, and missy,” Mokulu laughed. “You be much confused.”

“At least I don’t have that tremendous dhakari in my way now, though,” I snickered.

We were still laughing when we spotted a group of men on the beach. I spied Barbossa immediately, standing slightly away from his men and glowering at the sea. He swung to look at us, prompted by some sort of pirate intuition no doubt. I knew he couldn’t have heard us and he’d been facing in another direction.

Barbossa’s lips stretched into a disbelieving smile as he looked at us. “Well, if it ain’t Miss Turner,” he said. Sometimes he did that, called me by Will’s name. I suppose I’d been stuck firmly in his mind and he stumbled over every encounter. “And a friend,” he said, eyeing Mokulu. His eyes took in my brother’s face. “An Asp,” he said. “What be yer business?”

“Captain Sparrow,” I answered, bringing out the letter.

Barbossa unfolded the document, scanning it with tired, bloodshot eyes. I wondered if he had a sugar deficiency and made a mental note to ask him if he minded an examination. His habit of eating apples made sense if his body felt compelled to absorb sugar, then again, fruit to a sailor was sweet gold.

“Figueroa,” Barbossa breathed, tucking the letter away. “That meat-hook,” he muttered. “So tell me, missy,” he said, addressing me, “what made a pretty lass with a pretty beau decide to sail?”

“I got tired of being Elizabeth Swann,” I answered truthfully, just for the novelty of it. Barbossa and I usually traded insults and swaggering, when we happened to encounter one another at all.

Barbossa’s eyebrows went skyward. “Being all forthright and square wi’ me now?”

“Why not? I’m not sailing under you.” I smiled at him.

“Not right now,” he said. “Never let an absolute statement go to waste.”

“What is it with you pirate captains and your impromptu self-improvement lessons?” I asked.

“Must be in the job,” Barbossa said, grinning. “But I’m glad to see you missy, means Jack’s occupied wi’ somethin’ grand. Ye wouldn’t be over here ta tell me about this island, would ye?”

“Captain Sparrow’s island,” I replied. “I’m not at liberty to discuss it. I assume the letter mentioned arrangements?”

“Aye, that it did, but ye didn’t read it, did ye?” Barbossa brought it out and handed it back to me.

Hector,
I have a business proposition for you. Come aboard the Pearl. Make no contact with Ignacio Figueroa if you desire to profit. Bring whatever men you desire.
Jack

I read it out loud for Mokulu’s benefit and gave it back. “I never told you before, but your name really suits you,” I said.

“Means to hold or possess,” Barbossa replied, grinning lewdly at me. “And Jack means gracious. Seems an advantageous arrangement, do it not?”

“So you’re an onomastician as well as a pirate,” I said, returning his grin.

“I always knew ye were a smart lass,” Barbossa chuckled. He turned to his men. “Bigby!” he shouted. “Yer in charge. I be going wi’ these swabs to see Jack Sparrow.” Not waiting for an answer, Barbossa turned on his heel and began walking down the beach. Mokulu and I flanked him automatically, giving deference to a captain even if he wasn’t our captain.

“Ye been at sea a few years now, ain’t you missy?” Barbossa asked. “Improved yer looks, it did.”

“Thank you, I think,” I answered, thinking of the brief excerpt I’d read of myself in his old captain’s log.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” Barbossa said, turning his head to give a sharp whistle behind us. His monkey came scuttling up the beach and launched onto his shoulder. “Ye were pale, delicate,” he went on. “Now ye’re hard and dark. Carry yerself like ye know what ye want.”

“Pirates have done it to me,” I admitted. “The sea did it to me.”

“Aye, the sea,” Barbossa said. “I have ta say, I’m surprised ye’re sailin wi’ Jack.”

“Sailed with Captain Sparrow only half the year,” I volunteered. “On a merchant ship or two beforehand. Bored to tears.”

“Like gaol, that is,” Barbossa said, spitting to one side. “I see why ye might jump a merchant ship, even if it’s to Jack’s Pearl.” He ignored the line of spit hanging in his beard.

“I’m going to tell him you admitted the Pearl belongs to him,” I warned, smiling.

“You do that, missy,” Barbossa said. “Seems I got one o me own now.”

“One of many I suppose,” I shot back. “Captain Sparrow’s the only one I know that keeps his ship.”

“Ahhh,” Barbossa said dismissively. “Supernatural attachments work only fer some, savvy? The rest of us got to take advantage as we can. If I attack a ship better’n mine, damn sure to know I’ll trade off.” He brought a pipe out of his coat and began packing it as we walked. “Where’s yer wanna-be pirate white knight, William?”

“I assume he’s at home,” I replied. “I feel it’s safe to say he isn’t my white knight.”

“And no wonder, if’n ye go sail all over the sea with poncey Jack,” Barbossa declared.

“Captain Sparrow isn’t a ponce,” I defended.

“He’s too pretty ta be much else, lassy,” Barbossa said.

“He’s not the man you used to know,” I said quietly, thinking of all the blood I’d seen him shed. “You go blustering in on him like you usually do and you might get a surprise.”

“A fair warning?” Barbossa stopped dead, turning to peer down at me with his reddened eyes. “Y’know lass,” he said, pitching his voice low, “I always figured ye’d come back to the sea, y’got the pull.” He emphasized the word pull, stretching it out into nearly an entire second of enunciation. “But I thought ye’d go into the sea with yer hero. He had the pull too. Now I find ye sailin wi’ Loki Himself.”

“Elegua,” Mokulu broke in. Barbossa shot him a sharp look.

“Same difference,” he said. “Me point bein’ that ye seem ta like harnessin the wild and untamable.”

“Why does everyone want to talk about me?” I asked the air around us.

Barbossa started walking again, not even attempting an answer to a question that couldn’t be solved. I could see a group of men gathered in the distance, many men. Barbossa didn’t pause to identify them, merely kept eating up beach with long strides. As we drew closer I saw my mates and Blood’s crew gathered around a knot of about forty men. A tall, muscular man with long greasy brown hair stood in the center.

I disliked him on sight. His face seemed designed to show nothing but arrogance and cruelty. From the sneer of his thin lips to the arch of his eyebrow, I could see privilege and habitual gratification. “Figueroa,” Barbossa said aloud to me. “Came from such a prestigious family, ya savvy? Went a-rampagin fer years up and down the coast until he sank an English schooner with someone him-portant on board. Now he attacks the enemies of his native country fer a cut and avoids honest thievin’”

“Dis be his farewell,” Mokulu added. “Captain Sparrow be putting im off de island.”

“Not wi’out a little disagreement I see,” Barbossa observed. “Jack had best get his skinny arse out here. Not that it’ll do ‘im any good.”

“Why not?” I asked. I saw Peter moving toward the congregation, his blond hair catching the dying light and burning like a torch.

“Jack hates this sort o confrontation,” Barbossa replied. “’E starts ‘is double-talk with Figueroa and it’s cutlass and pistol from the bastard’s crew.”

“I’ll be god-damned,” I said, putting my hand on one of the pistols Jack gave me.

“Easy lass,” Barbossa said, putting his hand over mine. His grip wasn’t unkind. “Jus’ you wait and see what unfolds. Let a man play his hand so you can play yers better.” His hazel eyes held a glimmer of humor. “What did ol’ Jack do ta get such loyalty?”

I swallowed.

“He showed me my star,” I said. Perhaps Barbossa would understand me and perhaps he wouldn’t. I had no better explanation for my feelings at present, and certainly none I felt I could share with him.

Barbossa’s humor dropped away. “Did he?” He let go of me and turned his head back to the crowd. “Well then, that’s natural, ain’t it?” He smirked a little. “Good on him.”

“I’ll remember you said that,” Jack said, walking between us from behind. He kept walking, giving us no time to question him. Nodding to Blood, he plowed into the crowd. People parted from his path with fair speed, at least until he reached the tightest knot around Figueroa.

The privateer smiled coolly at him. “Jack Sparrow,” he said. “So good of you to see me on such short notice.” He waved his hands at his crew. “Untie, men,” he commanded. “No need to crowd a friendly talk among brethren of the sea.”

Jack met the man’s eyes. A tiny smile quirked up at the corner of his mouth. “I believe the time for friendly talk is over,” he said. “This is my island and yer not welcome on it.”

“Plenty of room here for a short stop,” Figueroa argued softly.

“Aye, if you pay,” Jack answered. “Give me your captives and I’ll consider it.”

Figueroa laughed. “You never fail to amuse me, Sparrow,” he chortled. “Tell you what.” He put his hand on his cutlass. “You can fight me for them. If you win you get my captives. If you lose, I get your ship. Seems like a fair bargain to me, especially since you have all this land. What do you need a ship for if you have all this?”

“He’ll never do it,” Barbossa muttered. “The captives aren’t worth the loss of the Pearl.”

“This isn’t a matter of bargaining,” Jack said, now smiling broadly with his hands out to his sides. “You’re squatting, Ignacio; on me land.”

“You can’t prove it belongs to you,” Figueroa retorted. “Why, this island’s been sitting for hundreds of years without an alma on it.”

“I don’t have to prove it.” Jack’s answer came so softly I barely heard. “But if you really want to fight me, I’ll oblige.”

“That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear.” Figueroa drew his sword.

The circular crowd parted as swords met. Mokulu and I left Barbossa, joining our mates in bracing the makeshift arena. We knew our duty. Treachery could prevail through the most common interference from the most common man. Figueroa was Jack’s problem, but Figueroa’s men were our concern.

The rapid exchange of metal on metal rang out over the sunset beach. Figueroa had both height and reach on Jack, and more physical might. He drove Jack backward slowly, lazily, grinning from ear to ear. Nevertheless, I had seen Jack fight. I knew he wasn’t as pressed as he pretended.

Jack liked to get the feel of a man’s weaknesses, learn his style if he had the time.

“Jack Sparrow, scourge of the seven,” Figueroa mocked, tossing his long hair back across his shoulders with a proud sweep of his head. “No one ever bothered to mention how usted es bajo y débil.”

Jack said nothing but I saw his eyes go cold. A dead light burned behind the russet now, an earnest desire for blood. He maneuvered around a pile of rock, his feet certain on his path even though he didn’t look anywhere but at Figueroa.

“How you get a loyal crew I’ll never know,” Figueroa went on, taking the aggressive.

Parry, thrust, parry, strike, parry, parry. Jack continued to move backward inches at a time, allowing himself to be positioned with his back to land. I saw Peter watching the exchange with concern, perhaps believing Jack to be outclassed. Quietly, he ordered his men to be on the ready. I heard Barbossa order us the same. We accepted the order, but not because we would defer to him without a thought. We were ready because we wanted this to come out the right way, with us on top.

“Why, you don’t put up a fight at all, no wonder you weren’t interested,” Figueroa laughed.

Jack smiled at him. “I’ve counted your eight moves,” Jack said. “One,” he parried to the left. “Two,” he parried to the right. “Three.” He blocked Figueroa with the flat middle of his blade. “Four.” Jack took Figueroa’s backswing to the sand. “Five.” He crossed swords with him in a riposte. “Six, seven,” he went on, following the privateer’s forward thrusts, blocking him with the hilt of his cutlass instead of the actual blade. “Eight.” Jack deflected an upper thrust and danced backward.

“The little maricon can count,” Figueroa tittered, but his eyes sparked with sudden concern.

“Nueve,” Jack said. He darted inside Figueroa’s defense as the man drew his sword back for a thrust, putting his whole body into shoving his shoulder. Figueroa staggered backward, bringing his cutlass around. Jack ducked under it, delivering a bone-snapping strike to the privateer’s jaw with the hilt of his sword. Figueroa went down in the sand, which Jack promptly kicked up in his face.

“Anda la puta que te pari,” Jack said, kicking Figueroa in the gut so hard the man vomited. He rolled him over, stepped on him, and stood on his neck with one booted foot. “Get your captives out here, now,” he said. “Quiero a esos presos!” Jack put his sword on Figueroa’s chest, right over his heart. “Me parece que la vena de la lengua pasa por tu culo,” he said, grinning. “Usted habla mucha mierda.”

“Esteban,” Figueroa shouted as Jack lifted off his windpipe. “¡Saque a los presos!”

“You can’t kill me,” Figueroa sneered as his prisoners came off the boat. “My men will tell everyone. You’ll have Spain to contend with from Iceland all the way down to Cape Town.”

Jack lifted his head and met the eyes of his crew. I saw his intent and looked at Barbossa, wondering if he saw too. Barbossa’s lips twitched with cold amusement. His hand strayed to his cutlass.

Jack pushed his sword into Figueroa’s heart.

I didn’t see what he did next. We converged upon Figueroa’s crew.

Barbossa walked around the fray, cutting Spaniards down as they stumbled into his path. I watched him meander around the falling line. I gutted a man at his back and began to follow him, untrusting of what he meant to do. Blood joined us. The moment he did, his crew jumped into the melee.

It took less than a minute to kill Figueroa’s men.

Barbossa plucked a key from the now dead Esteban’s neck, gesturing for the prisoners to hold out their manacles. Seeing he meant no harm yet wondering what his actions had meant, I sought Jack.

“Barbossa agreed to come see you, Captain Sparrow,” I said cheekily.

Jack’s lips twitched. He bent, wiped his cutlass off on Figueroa’s shirt. “Good,” he commented lightly. He picked his enemy’s pockets, bringing up various little bags of things. “Didn’t bring his men, I see.”

“Just himself,” I agreed.

Jack opened a bag. An assortment of blown glass beads fell into his hand. He smirked. “How convenient,” he murmured. He picked a red one out and let the rest fall into the white sand. “Join us for dinner, won’t you? It will be me, Blood, and Barbossa.”

“What shall I wear in such august company?” I teased lightly. Again Jack’s lips moved into something like a smile. He glanced up at me as he squatted there, his eyes running down my body.

“Whatever you like, luv,” he answered.

I nodded, leaving him to his scavenging. I had mates to patch up.