Chapter VIII - The Patriot
 
 

    The point of sailing from Fontaleza was that it was closest to the African coast. Even given this, the trip across the open ocean lasted weeks, with very few notable occurances inbetween. The Black Pearl and Kidd's ship, the Blessed William (Kidd denied any manner of vanity on this point), sailed in loose formation, often miles apart, and communicated by parrot.
    They attacked ships every couple of days, if attacked was the right word. More often they made empty threats and got what they wanted with minimal fuss. Inigo got out of the habit of announcing himself as Dread Pirate Roberts for the sake of making the job easier. Anyway, as Jack had assured him, the occasional survivor could only help one's reputation.
    On the third week they came across the pirate captain Reno and his ship, the Elena. Although an American colonist accustomed to sailing along the Californian coast, he was presently en route from Spain to Bueno Aires, and the time the Black Pearl spent talking with him was mostly composed of Inigo asking him for news from his homeland. The only part of this at all significant to either Jack or Kidd was Reno's mention of the death of Captain Valentino, who was something of a national hero for Spanish pirates and well on his way to meriting the title of Elder Pirate himself, at the hands of bounty hunters. It set all three allied captains on edge for the duration of the trip.
    Will's lessons with Inigo continued. The most he gained from this was a long scar along his left forearm which the pirate refused to apologize for, insisting that scars helped build character and indicating the two on his cheeks to serve as a point.
    There was gambling in the evenings until fights started breaking out so often that Jack and Inigo were forced to ban it, thereby shattering the Turner siblings' last illusions about the lawlessness of pirates. Things were more strict aboard the Black Pearl than back at home. Well, almost.
    Deprived of their more familiar games, the crew turned to sessions of mock trial, which ended up being a lot more fun. They eventually had to stop letting Will be a defense attorney, however, because he kept winning his client's cases. Mostly by using words no one on the jury knew.
    The Pearl's cook, John, seemed to be fearing his meals were getting so bland he was risking replacement unless something could be done about them. The measures taken to prevent this were getting so outlandish and inedible that most of the crew was beginning to lose weight, usually off the side railing. Only Fezzik didn't seem bothered by this.
    Aside from that there isn't much to tell, my friends.
    Until the fifth week came around.

    "I don't know, Fezzik, what do you make of it?"
    "Lookz like a pirate sheep to me."
    "I think she's getting closer."
    "Mebbe they juzt want to talk," the giant suggested. His captain lowered the spyglass from his eye and pondered this. "Yoo don't tink mebbe they mean uz harm?"
    "I'm not sure... Fetch one of the parrots for me, will you?" Inigo requested, collapsing the spyglass. "I'll write Kidd and see what he thinks."
    "All right. Shood I wake Jack too?"
    "No; he's only just gone to bed. He'd be in a right state if we got him up for nothing."
    A month into the voyage the two captains of the Black Pearl had taken to switching off commanding the ship. Jack Sparrow took the lead from midnight to midday, and Inigo Montoya was in charge for the rest. In addition to lightening the load on their shoulders, the tag-team captaining also benefitted the crew, because it meant the two didn't argue as much.
    Now being sometime in the afternoon, Jack had taken his leave and gone to bed, leaving Inigo alone to command the ship. This had suited Inigo fine until Stede had spotted the unfamiliar ship off the port side. It was still far away, barely the size of a thumbnail under the spyglass, but it was undeniably sailing toward them. At the benefit of a full run wind, outmatching the Pearl's reach, it would catch up to them in no time at all, and had yet to raise any sort of identifying flag.
    Inigo hunted around for some parchment and eventually had to make do with the back of a note Kidd had sent them the previous day. Seeing as quill and ink meant venturing into Jack's sleeping quarters, always a high-risk operation, he used a stub of charcoal instead. Once finished to his satisfaction, he fastened the note to Cotton Eight's leg and sent it fluttering off the side of the ship, toward the faroff Blessed William.
    The Dread Pirate stalked around on deck for a bit, then went back to viewing the ship through the spyglass. It was definitely getting closer.
    There was a rustle of feathers and a rush of wind, followed by a small weight landing on Inigo's shoulder. He lowered the telescope and glanced over into the beady eyes of a lime-green parrot.
    "That was fast," he said in surprise.
    "Dat's Cotton Five," Fezzik told him. "Jack sent him out thiz morning."
    Inigo lifted the parrot from his shoulder onto his hand, and removed the parchment fastened to its leg.
    Kidd was a little better off in the area of paper and writing instruments, and as a native English speaker he had the upper hand on Inigo in penmanship, and these were things Inigo was willing to grant him in the form of neat, orderly little strips of paper with neat, orderly writing on it, but he didn't see why Kidd had to tie the note on with a red silk ribbon too. It seemed a little over the top.
    Muttering to himself, Inigo unrolled the paper and read its contents. Then, slower this time, he read them again. He checked the ship's visage through the spyglass again.
    "We would seem to be in trouble," he said at length.
    "Shood I go wake Jack now?" Fezzik asked.
    "I'm captain of this ship as much as him. Go below and order the men to load the cannons."
    "Aye, captain," Fezzik said with resignation. He gave a half-hearted salute and started off down below-deck.
    "And the rest of you!" Inigo shouted, turning around to face the crew on deck. "Cannons and rifles, on the double! And hoist red!"
    It was mere minutes before Cotton Eight returned with another note from Captain Kidd, repeating his warning and adding that the Blessed William would be within firing range of the ship in roughly ten minutes. This did little to ease Inigo's anxiety. The Spaniard was good at calculating time; he'd spent ten years of training counting the minutes to be sure he was making the most of every moment. But nevertheless he was a very impatient man, and ten minutes seemed to him like an eternity.
    He paced the deck some more, looking at the distant ship out of the corner of his eye. The drawback to being the captain of a ship was that after you were through giving the orders to people, you had a fat lot of nothing to do for a while.
    It nearly caught him by surprise when the Blessed William began firing, the other ship having come within range of its cannons almost two full minutes early. Much like a clockwork soldier whose turn key had just been let go, Inigo sprang into life again, ordering reports from his officers.
    "Five minutes still, captain!" a second mate shouted to him. Five minutes was so long!
    "Are yoo sure thiz eez so wise?" Fezzik asked again, following Inigo as he headed up the stairs sternward for a better look. "Dey haven't said dey're hozteel yet!"
    "Fezzik, remember how a pirate fights," said Inigo, checking against a map provided by Trinity the view through the spyglass. "It's all in the effort to surprise your opponent. They will not raise colors until they're ready to strike. Maybe not until after they've begun. I would put nothing past these strange men sailing toward us, if what Kidd says is true."
    "What'z dat on the mainmast?"
    "What's what on the mainmast?"
    "There," Fezzik said, pointing out across the water at the approaching ship. Inigo followed the direction of the finger and squinted at the distant object. "See?"
    "...A white flag?" Inigo fumbled with the spyglass. "A white flag?!" he repeated, stunned.
    "Yoo see?" the giant sighed, exasperated. "Yoo shood listen to my advice moor often, Inigo."
    "I suppose, I--" Inigo Montoya was interrupted as a large, bright orange parrot flapped down to perch on his shoulder. "I thought we had all the Cottons back."
    "We do. Dis one'z Kidd'z. He callz eet Mandarin."
    "Odd name for a parrot," Inigo said, pulling the note from its leg and sending it on its way. Tucking the spyglass under one arm, he unrolled the parchment and read the brief message aloud. "'Don't trust them.'"
    "Don't truzt a white flag?"
    "After what Kidd has said of them already, I would most readily agree." Inigo turned away from the port railing and sought out Anamaria, up in the crow's nest. "Are we in range?"
    "Aye! But capta--"
    "Then open fire!"

    Dread Pirate Roberts, aka Inigo Montoya, would probably never admit that what he had just done was really quite stupid. Such as it is with many great men, because many great historical occurances started over really quite stupid things. Presumption is a plague upon mankind. It's also a nice way to kick-start wars.
    In the great, grand scheme of things his presumption was not going to have everlasting impact.
    But it did really piss Jack off.

    The crew of the Black Pearl under Captain Sparrow were used to strange sights. It was part of the job description. When you signed on as part of Jack's crew, you knew you'd be bound for the unusual. Veterans of the ship had seen the Aurora Borealis, experienced the time distortion of the Bermuda Triangle, plundered El Dorado, and found the ruins of Atlantis. They hooked mermaids so regularly they'd begun throwing them back like bad guppies. It took no ordinary rain of fish or flare of St. Elmo's fire to raise an eyebrow on the ol' Pearl.
    But witnessing their captain tackle their other captain to the deck and pin him there, a foot digging into his neck while twisting one arm so far out of its normal position that it may just have unhinged itself ranked up there somewhere.
    "Say it," Jack ordered.
    Inigo stammered, "L-look, I was just--"
    "Say it or you're heading straight to Davy Jones's locker with the spare anchor chained to yer ankles. Don't try my patience, mate."
    "All right! All right! I shouldn't have given the order to attack without your presence!"
    "Wrong. Try again, Mister Roberts."
    "What?!"
    "What is the one major error inherent in your actions, captain?" Jack demanded, twisting the arm further. "Think hard now."
    The onlooking crew didn't know whether they should be enjoying this or starting to take cover.
    "I, uh, I..."
    "Yes?"
    "Look, just give me a minute here, I almost have it--"
    "Attacked a ship sailing under a white flag, Mister Roberts! Have you simply lost your grasp of the Code or has your sense of ethics failed you completely?"
    "But Kidd said--"
    "Hang what Kidd thinks!" Jack snapped. He released Inigo's arm, which flopped to the floor with many a pop and snap, and stood up right, turning his attention to his crew. "Any of you dogs I catch firing on a ship flying white again in your entire lives, I will hunt you down and gut you from gullet to groin-- don't you dare think otherwise. And who's still firing?!"
    "It's the Blessed, Jack," Will said, with a bit of caution. "She's not stopped."
    "Well, get her to stop!" Jack yelled at the assembled at large, lashing out an arm. They started backing away. "Let that bastard Kidd know that if he keeps firing, the Pearl'll be turning her cannons on him instead!" At the order, everyone on deck began running, tripping and colliding into one another in the search for one of the Cottons to send a message to the Blessed William.
    Jack Sparrow glanced back at his beaten co-captain, who was leaning against the port railing and rubbing his sore shoulder. He was looking at something out across the water. Jack inquired about it, not too unkindly, although unkindly enough.
    "There's something coming towards us," Inigo replied hoarsely, not looking around.
    "Yeah?" Jack joined Inigo near the railing. Paddling away from the damaged enemy ship was a small boat, two men at the oars and one person at the bow, gray-haired and wearing a green tartan tunic, waving what appeared to be a white hankerchief. "'Old on. Gimme the scope."
    "It would be a trifle easier if I was in the possession of working limbs, Jack."
    "Sorry. Got carried away."
    "'Carried away'? That?"
    "Just gimme the scope already, Roberts."
    He did. Eventually. With a bit of effort.
    "If the lens is cracked, it's your fault," Inigo pointed out. "You didn't have to hit me so hard..."
    "Already apologized once, and that fills up me quota for the day." Jack adjusted the magnification on the spyglass slightly and tried to sight the object once again. "Let's see..." His object of interest apparently coming into focus, Jack froze. "Sweet, merciful hell."
    "What is it?" Inigo said quickly, climbing up a little to get a better view.
    "Say, Roberts?"
    "Yes?"
    "Cover me for a bit," Jack said, pushing the spyglass into Inigo's half-working arm and standing upright.
    "Where are you going?" Captain Roberts asked, as Jack began walking away toward the stern.
    "To get ready, of course! I can't have her seeing me like this!"
    Taken aback by this most uncharacteristic statement, Inigo was unable to form a followup question until Jack was long out of sight. So instead Inigo got to his feet --slowly--, stretching his arm until it felt usable again, and then went off to find someone not busy trying to find a messenger parrot to organize a welcoming crew. It was procedure, after all.
    Halfway along the starboard side toward the bow, someone tapped Inigo on the shoulder. Well, it physically was a tap, but to Inigo it felt more like a sledgehammer blow.
    "You Spaniards certainly can scream," Captain Kidd told Inigo brightly, as he spun around clutching at his shoulder.
    Inigo growled. "You know what, Mister Kidd? Shut. Up."
    "As it suits me and not before, if you please. Might I enquire as to why our dear Mister Sparrow has ordered a cease-fire?"
    "Wait a minute. How did you get over here so fast?"
    "It pertains to my question, as it happens. I came over here in order to divine the answer. Preferably from you, as you seem one of the few sane ones in the immediate vicinity."
    "Can it wait? It would seem the captain of that ship is coming to invoke parlay. Quite rightly, as Jack will tell you."
    But Kidd was unrelentingly serious. "You know we couldn't risk following the Code given what we know of them, Mister Roberts."
    "Yes, well, you know Jack. Very big on the Code. When it suits him."
    Kidd touched Inigo's shoulder gently and said, "The Code is what killed Rackman and Tew, Mister Roberts. It'll kill your friend Jack as well if he isn't careful."
    The growing sound of tinkling beads and other trinkets caused both pirate captains to look up expectantly, as Jack Sparrow trotted up to them while hastily tying on some sort of necklace. He'd put on his jacket and donned his trihorn hat, replaced a few of the rings on his fingers with other ones, and redressed a recent wound across his abdomen with fresh bandages.
    "Is she here yet?" he asked Inigo anxiously, finishing up knotting the rope around his neck and moving on to straighten the cufflinks of his jacket. "Oh, hello, Bill," he added towards Kidd, who smiled pleasantly at the acknowledgement.
    "You're not going to strangle me with the power of your self-righteous ethics for firing upon a bounty hunter ship?" Kidd asked kindly.
    "Some other time, mate, some other time," Jack said quickly, scanning the water off the side of the ship. "Where'd she go?"
    "Jack?" Inigo tried cautiously. "This is starboard."
    "Er..."
    "The boat is coming in port side."
    "I knew that."
    And the three pirate captains were off, trotting across the deck with Jack Sparrow in the lead. Normally on a ship as crowded as the Black Pearl this would involve pushing past half a dozen people, but pirates who don't know how to avoid life-threatening danger when they see it aren't pirates for very long. That is to say, they stayed out of Jack's way.
    Jack, Inigo and Kidd had just passed the mainmast when they came into view of a crowd of people surrounding Fezzik by the port railing, hauling up a length of rope, attached to which were a trio of sailors, who climbed aboard deck one at a time.
    The first two were young women, dressed in men's clothes and hats with a swagger that could almost have passed them off as men if certain aspects of their form didn't betray them quite impressively. One of them, taller than the other, had oily black hair and a pair of pistols tucked into her belt. The other had curly red hair and a long scar going from her nose to her bottom jaw, with a well-worn cutlass buckled to her side.
    They smiled at the men surrounding them. It seemed intended as a friendly gesture but the result seemed to suggest they could very easily take out any of their jugulars with the least amount of difficulty. The collective chill down the spine experienced by the assembled could only suggest the two women had practiced it.
    Then the third woman came up. Older than the other two, and not as subtle in her malevolence, she bristled with fury like an angry alley cat. She strode forward, pushing the younger two women to either side, and the crowd obediently parted for her. She stomped to a halt a few feet from the three captains.
    No one on the Black Pearl had ever seen Jack smile like how he did then. It was a look akin to one an alcoholic might have if he was told he could drink forever and never have a hangover, but even that didn't compare to the smile of absolute contentedness and pleasure as Jack wore right then.
    He tried to mask it as smugness.
    "Well, well," he said smoothly. "If it isn't Grace O'Malley."
    Inigo was stunned. "Grace O'Malley?" he demanded. "The Grace O'Malley? Granuaile herself?"
    "Not what you expected, lad?" the woman asked. She spoke with a heavy accent, as from a person not only used to Gaelic but so full of contempt for the originators of the English language that she retained the accent out of spite.
    "But Granuaile is the most beautiful woman to have ever lived--" Inigo began, before realizing quite what he was saying.
    The woman before him was exceptionally beautiful. She was the kind of woman who would at one point be described by comparing her to women including but not limited to Catherine the Great, Helen of Troy, and Venus de Milo.
    That would have been around thirty years ago.
    Now the woman named Granuaile had a great many lines marking weathered, freckled flesh, and her black hair that had once enchanted men across the globe was now streaked with gray. Her green tartan tunic and heavy wool boots seemed just slightly too big on her, and the sword strapped to her back seemed possibly too heavy for her to possibly be able to handle.
    "What brings you to these waters, my lady?" Jack said coolly.
    "The shores of my homeland are plagued with traitors to the English," Granuaile said with a sneer. "No honorable man sails there; the allies of my kin have all deserted on the promises of London's king, and there is no profit to be made on those coasts. So I seek new fortunes in the Caribbean, where I learn the English have spread their bargain as well."
    "Be that as it may, madam," said Captain Kidd, "it would seem you have not been able to resist such a bargain yourself."
    Jack rounded on him. "What?"
    "Much as it pains me to put a rift between you and your old... companion, Mister Sparrow, I would very much consider it my duty to inform you that this woman," Kidd said, jabbing in Granuaile's direction with his ornate cane, "bears the hunter mark upon her ship, as like our dear departed Mister Hawk."
    The pleased look upon Jack's face faded as quickly as it had appeared. He met Granuaile's bright green eyes, seeking some sort of answer, possibly a denial, but after a few tense seconds she looked away, ashamed.
    "I do not deny it," she said quietly. Murmurs went up throughout the crowd.
    "A bounty hunter," Kidd went on, "come to claim the prize on your head, under a white flag of surrender."
    Now Granuaile snapped her head up. "I would never," she all but shouted. "I took the letter of amnesty and became what I am to eliminate men like the traitors of my father. Bad pirates who ignore the Code and ignore God for the benefit of their worthless, coward souls. I do not hunt for money. It is simply fitting that an Englishman could make such an accusation!"
    "I am not an Englishman!" Kidd roared. "The English took my country as well as yours! You would do well to remember that, you foul beast of a woman--"
    "Mister Kidd," said Jack. The other captain was silenced instantly. Not by Jack raising his voice, but by strengthening it. It was like running into a brick wall, or Fezzik. It didn't have to be imposing, it just had to be there.
    "Jack," Granuaile said, approaching him slowly. She gained his attention instantly, and so completely that she could almost see how the man at the drop of a hat had blocked out anyone and anything except for her. It was an unsettling sensation she hadn't experienced in far too long. Swallowing, she continued, "Believe me when I say that it was never my intention to attack you. I came after you because I wanted to prevent such a thing. More men know of your quest than you think, Jack, and those men are after your life."
    "When I told you once I was the most hunted man in the Caribbean, you didn't believe me," Jack said, almost teasingly.
    "Breagadóir, that wasn't true then. But now, Jack, it is different. People are after you, they will stop at nothing to catch you. They are tracking you even now--"
    "Don't listen to her!" Kidd cut in."She's just trying to win you over, Jack!"
    "I believe you," Jack told Granuaile solemnly. He didn't catch Kidd's furious growl because he was looking into the woman's eyes again. "So you came to warn me?"
    Granuaile shook her head. "To protect you. I know you too well, Jack. You can't manage on your own without my help."
    Jack only smiled.
    Off in the crowd, Will Turner nudged her older sister. "What's Jack acting like that for?" he asked.
    But Delphine, usually a source of fairly reliable worldly advice, was just as confused as Will was, if for slightly different reasons. "He must be drunk or something."
    Ironically, Granuaile was thinking much the same thing.

    She was called the Tirghráthóir, and she was a heavy-built navy vessel armed to the proverbial teeth with cannons as well as dual harpoon guns. Her bow held a carved figure of Domnu, goddess of the sea and the heavens, surrounded by intricate Celtic knotwork that had all but disappeared under the erosion of the waves against her hull. She had tartan sails, a ridiculously difficult feat done entirely, it seemed, to outdo those pirates who felt they were pretty high-class by having their sails dyed a pure black.
    Everything about her spoke of resilience, everything about a boundless, unquashable energy, to the extent that the bombardment upon her hull by two ships had scarcely had an impact. If the Black Pearl was to be the world's fastest ship, then the Tirghráthóir was certainly its strongest.
    "Aye, she's not as good as the Iompróir an Uisce, but she'll do for sea crossings," Granuaile said to Jack, as the two of them looked on at the ship via torch light.
    It was late evening now; all three ships had weighed anchor so that repairs on the Tirghráthóir could be completed by dawn. Only the Black Pearl was helping in the repairs; Captain Kidd refused to commit his crew to it, only stopping his ship at all out of deference to Inigo, who was siding with Jack.
    "She's rather impressive," said Captain Sparrow. He coughed discreetly, or what he hoped was discreetly. "Gracie..."
    "Don't," Granuaile began.
    "Cronaím thú..."
    She shook her head somberly. "Wrong tense."
    "Tá tú gin h-álainna," Jack persisted.
    "Stop it, just stop it," Granuaile commanded, locking him with a steelly-eyed stare. "Your Gaeilge is as horrible as ever," she said matter-of-factly.
    "If y'still hate me, why did you come after me?"
    "Because if anyone kills you, it will be me. And honorably. Not this disgusting head-hunting. I would sooner suffer all the tortures of Hell than kill you like a coward."
    "You know, that's all the more incentive for me to cut you down right 'ere, lass. Not altogether wise to warn a person you're after their life. Person might not take to it well."
    "You'd never kill me."
    "If it twas between me an' you, love, I'd kill you in a heartbeat, savvy?"
    She regarded him questioningly. "Even after all this time, you still have no wish to die?"
    "Why? I haven't made it to the Moon yet."
    "Tá tú glan as do mheabhair, Jack..."

    The Black Pearl's mess hall was nearly completely empty. Her crew had discovered that the Tirghráthóir's cook was able to prepare honest-to-goodness regular soup instead of some strange mish-mash of unconnected ingredients that seemed to be John's theme these days, and had gone over there for their late dinner instead, leaving Fezzik and a few lonely stragglers alone with their unusual food.
    "Well, me and Anne used to sail with ol' Calico Jack," said the red-haired girl from Granuaile's crew, who identified herself as Mary Read. She picked an apple out of her quiche and bit into it as she sat down on a bench facing Delphine.
    "Jack Rackman?" Will asked, curious.
    "Very same," said Anne Bonney, the black-haired pirate. She was lounging back lazily on the table next to the other three. "After ol' Jack got the can, me and Mary were up next for the short stop."
    "But we pleaded belly," said Read, smiling a small sardonic smile not unlike Delphine's own. "After that got us off the hook for a couple months, we made quick with the busting out and high-tailed it out of England at all possible speed."
    "Were you... actually... erm..." Will tried.
    "Expecting? Oh, hell no. But imagine yerself in our place, pretty woman like, prime of your life, and you've got the choice between one little white lie and choking to death up on a rope. Which would you take?" Will, who was still hung up on the pretty woman part, bit his lip. "Exactly," Read said with satisfaction.
    "So after we made our exit from the British isles, where'd we find ourselves but Dublin in ol Ire? And that's when we heard Captain Granny was needing sailors used to Caribbean waters."
    "Which is when we went and introduced ourselves," said Bonney.
    "As men, as always."
    "'Course, once we got there and we found out ol' Granuaile was a lady herself, off went the ruse..."
    "And that's how we got the job," Read finished.
    Will stared at them in disbelief. "By being women?"
    "Yessir."
    "Just that?"
    "Pretty much, yes."
    Will looked over at his older sibling. "They're as mad as you are."
    Not appearing to have heard the comment, Read leaned forward, grinning, and said, "So, eh, what about you two, huh? You like a couple?"
    "We're brother and sister!" Will exclaimed, outraged.
    "Oh, my apologies," Read said, holding up a hand. "Leave to me not to spot the, er, striking family resemblance." She cracked them another grin. "How'd the two of you come into ol' Sparrow's service?"
    "He knew our father," Will said shortly, far less in the mood for conversation now.
    "Will's here because Jack knew our father," Delphine corrected, snapping her head around at the bou. "I'm just here to keep him from trouble."
    "Now how 'bout you?" Mary Read enquired, sliding closer to Delphine. "You in any way... attached, little girl?"
    "Not anymore."
    "Ooh, how nice," said Anne Bonney, sitting up in attention. "How'd you do it? Shoot the bastard?"
    Delphine gave a short, barklike laugh. "I wish. His cause of death was his own overwhelming stupidity."
    "Cheers to him. Best way for a man to go," Read said. "How long were you two married?"
    "Let's see..." Delphine bit her lip in concentration, turning to her fingers to count. "If it was since I was sixteen, then that'd make it... nearly five years," she said at last.
    "Five years!" Bonney cackled. "What'd you do, leave all the little'uns to fend for their own?"
    "Actually, our marriage was unconsumated."
    That made both women fall silence at once. They gaped at her.
    "Er, Del? What does--"
    "When you're older, Will."
    Read cleared her throught. Then, she cleared it again. "Something like that," she said, in a voice only slightly squeakier than normal, "strikes me as pretty militant. Y'ever considered your other options?"
    Delphine arched an interested eyebrow. "Meaning...?"
    "Well," Bonney said coaxingly, rising from her seat to join her companion's side, snaking an arm around Read's shoulder, "take what me and Mary do, as example. If, y'know, you ever felt like joining in."
    The ex-barmaid glanced back and forth a bit, as if debating something in her head. She edged closer to the two older women. "Sounds interesting," she said.
    "Del!"
    "Mind your own, Will," Delphine snapped, glancing back at him once before turning her full attention onto Bonney and Read. "So, uh, what sort of things did you, y'know, have in mind?" she asked softly.

    "What do you intend to do," Granuaile said, "once you reach Libertalia?"
    "Call a meeting with the Brethren," Jack replied. "Sort something out. Devise some sort of counter-measure."
    "Put people like me out of business?"
    "Darling, surely you would sooner return to piracy than become the king's bloodhound the rest of your days. No self-respecting Gael could put up with such as that." He looked at her imploringly. "You'd never think to turn your back to the sea, would ya, love?"
    "Times are changing, Jack," Granuaile said sorrowfully. "Like as not we've all got to accept that. Éireann is nowhere to make one's life and the Spanish Main is little better."
    "We'll find new waters," Captain Sparrow insisted. "The whole world's out there meant just for us, Gracie."
    The Irishwoman's face went sour. "All these years you've lived and you've still such childish notions, Jack. You have sailed the world, you have seen it all, but no matter where you go and what you see you are no closer to that final horizon than you were when I found you on my shores in the long ago, and no farther from the men who live only to cut you down. You can't escape the inevitable, Jack."
    "You're wrong," Jack said shortly. "Inevitable doesn't have to happen."
    Granuaile sighed. "There was a time when you would say that, and I could almost believe it."
    "Come with us to Libertalia."
    "Why should I?"
    "Because I'll make you believe again, that's why."
    "You don't give up, do you?"
    "Never saw the need."
 

End Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter VII