Chapter XIII - Things Fall Apart
What with one thing or another, the three ships set
sail much later the following morning than previously anticipated. A lot
of the pirates would blame this late start on mind-numbing hangovers, for
that was something even rumfustian couldn't cure, or on their captains
sleeping in to ungodly hours, or on Jack trying to throw Inigo over the
side of his ship for something to do with a nightmare.
When the Black Pearl and her compatriots
finally hoisted anchor and dropped their sails, it was under a steel-gray
sky. Rain clouds were moving in quickly, although this wasn't much cause
for alarm. Part of sailing was having to deal with rain and the occasional
storm. Will Turner had, in fact, been surprised to learn that life-threatening
storms weren't an everyday occurance as his books had lead him to believe,
but rather happened at a snail's pace of once every couple of weeks. (Granuaile
said it was the sea goddess's way of keeping sailors on their toes, although
she acknowledged it might just be the Tuatha de Danann's quirky sense of
humor that was to blame.)
In a strange, almost suspicious, flourish of luck,
the ships were soon backed by a full run wind at a north-northeast bearing.
Quick calculation and the measurement against some maps determined the
extra speed would hardly compensate for their delay, but this did very
little to dash the crews' optimism. Indeed, it seemed that a conscious
effort by a sizably powerful deity would be needed to dampen their good
moods at all.
There was surprisingly little to do, which left
the pirates with a lot of free time to talk amongst themselves. There was
only one subject on their minds: the ever-nearing city of Libertalia. Everyone
had different ideas of what to do when they got there, although most involved
drinking (let it never be said that a hangover can set a person off from
alcohol) and pleasurable company. One or two sailors had even been born
in Libertalia, and were looking forward to revisiting their hometown, if
only to see if there was a way to figure out who their fathers were by
now.
"Well, me mum and dad come from there," Stede said
to a small audience around noon, enjoying a brief spot of sunlight that
had come out prematurely from behind the clouds, to be swallowed up soon.
"Though me, I 'uz born in Tortuga, same as ol' Jack."
"Naw, Jack was born at sea," another pirate contested.
"Everyone knows that."
"I 'eard he was a bastard of the head of the Lee
family an' one of their slaves, up in Virgina," someone else contributed.
"Ran away as a kid an' smuggled 'imself aboard a ship bound for Cuba."
"Fancy you believin' some cock an' bull story as
that," a third mate sniffed. "I thought every'un knew Jack's a born-an'-raised
Libertalian. He's descended from the people that founded it, you know.
Practic'ly makes 'im a nob."
"Bollocks! That man Mission's still livin', and
he ain't no relative o' Jack."
Jack Sparrow watched this unfolding conversation
with detached interest, sitting a safe distance away with Anamaria and
Will, who had taken to sharpening their swords on their whetstones to help
pass the time.
"Tha's interesting," Jack remarked, mostly to himself.
"Is any of it true?" Will asked.
"Mind you keep yerself out of others' affairs, mate,"
was Jack's reply, giving him a disdainful glance. Then he continued, almost
apologetically, "Actually, I was saying that to the bit about Mission.
I thought he'd snuffed it long hence."
"Who's Mission?"
"Founder of the city. Good man, fair man. Your average
civilian'd have a hard time pinning him as a pirate by the way he acts.
Sometimes have a hard time believing it myself."
Will didn't catch most of this, because his brow
was furrowed with the concentration of backtracking and filling in mathematical
variables. The equals sign, it turned out, had a slash through it.
"Hold on," Will said suspiciously, "even given that
this Mission's in the last stage of his life, how can an old man like Stede
account for his parents being born in Libertalia? Is this Mission another
one of your amazing immortal pirates?"
"Do you know, I'm finding it more than a bit troublesome
that you don't simply forget about that," Jack said sourly. "An' to answer
that, no."
"Stede's boastin'," Anamaria explained. "Fact is,
Libertalia replaced a lot of old forts an' things that had been around
there. Most people from those places'll say they're Libertalians anyway."
"The city's pretty recent, then?"
"As recent a city can be when it's built from older
towns," the quartermaster said with a shrug.
"Funny," Will said, sounding depressed. "That's
rather anticlimatic."
Jack and Anamaria exchanged smirks.
"That's the last word to ever give to Libertalia,"
Jack assured him. "You'll see soon enough."
By early evening the last of the storm clouds' half-hearted
attempts at rain had given out and had resigned themselves to their fates
as simply overcast, and as the sun set as a pale, dusky orange on the western
horizon, a faint fog rolled in and the three ships were forced to their
compasses with renewed dependence. They sent parrots to each other to verify
their bearings with one another, and on unspoken agreement, the three allied
pirate ships formed into a tight V shape, with the Black Pearl in
the lead.
By half past eleven, the fog was so thick that sending
parrots was a risk in itself, and had to drown half the lights of their
ships to see anything past their bows at all, if anything were to come
into view to be seen.
"We should see lights soon," Jack said, thumping
a finger on the map. Inigo, Fezzik, Anamaria and he stood under the glow
of a lone lantern fastened to the main mast, leaving Stede to man the helm
with the help of the third mate. He glanced from face to face, which in
Fezzik's case meant craning his head a bit. "If mem'ry serves, they should
have a lighthouse set up on the peninsula 'ere. Dunno how often they keep
it lit; could lead a man to trouble, something like that, calling in unwanted
visitors. Even if not, s'a well-lit city. The docks'll be aglow like a
carnival, you mark me."
Anamaria sniffed the air. "What's that smell?"
"Wasn't me," Fezzik said at once.
"No, not that. Somethin' acrid; smoke."
"Kidd's ship reported a kitchen fire earlier," Jack
said. "Dunno how he keeps that damned ship afloat with men thick as two
short planks sailing under him. They've had a hundred accidents since we
sailed from Fontaleza."
"Must've really botched their stew," said Anamaria,
screwing up her nose. "It's everywhere. Dunno how I didn't spot it before."
"You think, perhaps, the cook wanted so much to
have his dinner on land tonight he ruined it on purpose?" Inigo suggested.
"What a poor idea; we're getting in near midnight."
"Aye, well, s'a good thing Libertalia never sleeps,
mate."
"Captain!" Delphine called down from the crow's
nest, directing the attention of the four. "Lights sighted dead ahead!"
"See? What I tell you?" Jack said with satisfaction,
rolling up the map. He yelled up to his valet, "What's it look like, Jackal?"
"I can't believe you insist on calling her that,"
Anamaria muttered.
"Line of lights prolly half a mile across, sir,"
Delphine answered cheerfully. "Bright as blazin', like a festival. We getting
a welcome party?"
"Once they see who we are, you're damn right we
will," said Jack. He glanced at his companions. "Wanna go take a look?"
he invited. They doused their lantern light, and after regaining a bit
of their night vision, walked across the crowded deck to the bow. Standing
on the edge before the bowsprit, Jack was handed the spyglass by Inigo,
began to lift it to his eye, and then, puzzled, gave it an experimental
shake. "'Seems to be water in this thing, Roberts."
"Yes, I know," Inigo said despondently. "Can't for
the life of me figure out why."
Jack shrugged, and lifted the spyglass to his eye
anyway, albeit with a bit of caution. He frowned, adjusting the magnification
a little.
"What's wrong?" Anamaria asked after a while.
"Roberts, did the glass get smeared as well?" Jack
asked Inigo.
"Not to my knowledge. Why?"
Without giving an answer, Jack rubbed the lens of
the telescope with his sleeve and tried peering through it again, but nothing
seemed to improve. The red lights on the horizon still seemed strangely
off. He kept them in his sight for a few minutes more, while his companions
exchanged looks of puzzlement, and then, quite suddenly, Jack spun on his
bare heel and ran sternward. He leapt up onto the port railing, climbed
the main chains onto a rope supporting the main mast, and peered out across
the water with his spyglass once more.
"Delphine!" he yelled.
"Aye, captain," came her reply, over by the foremast.
Her voice, which had sounded positively elated a few minutes ago, was laced
with terror. "D'you see it too?"
The smell of smoke was growing overpowering.
"What is it, Jack?" Inigo said, rushing up to stand
on the railing below his co-captain.
"Do you see it? Do you bloody well see it?!"
As Inigo took the spyglass from Jack and sighted
through it, over by the bow, Fezzik and Anamaria's jaws dropped. "Oh my
God..." Anamaria murmured.
Curling up from the horizon was a long line of firelight,
true enough, bright red and searing orange and gleaming yellow. But as
the occupants of the three pirate ships watched in horror, they found that
what they were looking at was not the contained glow of torch and lantern
light they had taken it to be.
Libertalia was in flames.
"Wake the crew," Jack said to Inigo, jumping down
from the rigging onto the deck.
"What, all of it?"
"Yes, all of it!"
"Jack--" Anamaria began, running up to him as he
was walking industriously toward the bow.
"Get the men together and throw everything overboard,
everything we can."
"What? Jack!"
"We need to get ashore as soon as possible, Ana.
Throw everything-- wait. No, not the water barrels. Anything that can be
used to hold water, keep that. Get me Cotton Twelve and Cotton Fourteen
so I can send word to Grace and Bill. We'll need to set up some rescue
parties--"
Anamaria grabbed him by the sleeves of his shirt.
"Jack! Don't you see what's going on? This has all the makings of a trap!"
"This couldn't've been planned," said Jack, shaking
his head. "How could word have gotten round so fast?"
"O'Malley and Kidd, Jack!" Anamaria all but yelled,
shaking him by the shoulders. "They both knew where you were headed! So
did Peregrine and Robin and Osprey, d'you remember?! They all knew!"
Jack pushed her off, pointing wildly at the red
horizon. "That's the greatest city in the world out there burning; don't
you get it?! Quit stalling me with rubbish and get to work!"
But Anamaria wasn't going anywhere. "This was orchestrated!"
she cried.
"Stop it."
"We've been set up from the start!"
"I won't listen to this!"
"We've been duped! We've been tricked! By the very
people you call your allies! You--"
"Would you listen to me?" he roared, causing
her to jump. "There are innocent people out there dying! That's all that
matters right now!"
"This is part of their trap!" Anamaria insisted.
"Don't you see that if we do this, we'll all be killed?"
"Then so be it!" Jack snapped, baring his
teeth like an animal. "If this is our fault like you say, it's just as
well. Now get things ready!"
Ba-BOOOOOM!
Jack and Anamaria staggered as the deck rocked with
the explosion, Anamaria colliding with her captain and holding onto him
for support.
"What the--" Jack began, looking wildly off the
port side.
Ba-BOOOOOM!
The second knocked them off their feet, sending
them sprawling across the deck. A third tore through the railing and smashed
into the side of the stern cabin. A fourth shattered some of the stairs.
"Who's attacking us?" Jack wondered aloud, pushing
his quartermaster's body off of his own and climbing to his feet.
"Your friend O'Malley, of course," Anamaria said
contemptuously, standing up as well. "That's whose ship we have to our
port, if you remember."
Jack shook his head. "No, listen."
On instruction, she did, straining her ears to hear
between the cannon blasts, some farther off explosions and the scared shouts
from another ship.
"Someone's attacking them too. And on the Blessed.
Are you convinced now?" he asked her, to which she had no reply. "We're
arming the cannons."
"We can't even see where they are!"
"We'll figure that out later."
Ba-BOOOOOM!
They ducked as a cannonball took out a chunk of
the mainmast over their heads. Under a hail of wood chips, Jack left Anamaria's
side and darted off across the ship. Left at a loss for anything else to
do, Anamaria ran off to do as she had been ordered.
The rest of the Black Pearl's crew was coming
up now, scarcely needing Inigo's help to be woken up by this point. Dazed
and confused, they were herded by their officers to the cannons to load
and fire blindly to port and starboard, hoping that their target wouldn't
turn out to be friendly. The opposition's aim only seemed to grow more
accurate, tearing huge gaping holes into the hull.
"This is hopeless," Inigo said to Jack, having to
yell over the explosions even at such close proximity. "We're all going
to die!"
"Never!" Jack said fiercely, holding onto a rope
supporting the main mast that had been cut from a passing cannonball.
"I thought you wanted to die," Anamaria accused,
as the three ducked from another hit that sent shattered wood flying overhead.
"Aye, but I'm old enough for it," Jack retorted.
"Fezzik! How're we doing?"
"We're beginning to take on water, captain!" the
first mate reported from the stairs below him.
"Well, find a way to stem the flow, goddammit! Roberts!
Roberts, for-- Gaaah, Inigo, for God's sake, help me with this!" Jack said
desperately, beginning to lose his grip on the rope. Inigo dropped his
post at his cannon to find the other end of the rope to splice to it.
"How are they able to fire so well in this fog?"
Inigo demanded, as the two men set about retying the rope.
"They might be using seekers," Jack said.
"What?"
"Seekers! You've never used those?"
"No!"
"They can home in on ships. Bloody hard to make
and harder to buy. You'd need to be rich as all hell to afford more than
maybe a handful!"
"Rich like a king, you mean?"
Before Jack could answer, they heard the starts
of another cannon fire, and immediately ducked. They were surprised when,
against all reason, the explosion happened far off to starboard. But surprised
didn't cover it with the bright flash of light that followed, sending all
those aboard the Black Pearl squinting and shading their eyes in
order to see, across the water, a tall, two-masted ship with a bowsprit
like a narwhale's horn, surrounded in an almost ethereal white light.
"Beacons," Inigo said, staring in amazement.
"What?" Jack asked.
"Beacons! You've never used those?"
"I'm sensing a pattern here..."
"I would have thought you, of all people..." Inigo's
sentence dropped off in the wake of another explosion, this one off to
their port side, illuminating a similar pirate ship with its cannons still
smoking. "Who's using those?" he wondered.
"S'not Grace and Bill..."
They didn't have to wait long to find out, recoiling
as both the shining pirate ships came under a heavy barrage of cannon fire,
not just from the Black Pearl's unseen savior but by the Pearl
and her allies as well, finally seeing an enemy to counterattack. The effect
upon their attackers was instantaneous. In moments, they were making their
retreat, their light fading into the darkness as they went until it blinked
out entirely.
Three pirate ships gave a collective exhale and
looked around, searching the fog for whoever had spared them, but nothing
could be seen.
At least, until it happened.
It was a sound much akin to the ripping of silk,
a fast and loud sound that tore through the air-- literally. A small blue
light emerged from within the fog, and instantly, the mist was pushed away
all around it, even clearing from the water around its hull.
The ship was monstrous in size, built like what
the Trojans might have made if they had crossed ideas of a German panzer
tank and the world's greatest battleship, with black sails the size of
houses and a glossy black finish to her wood, trimmed with silver, a mermian
battle maiden carved into the bow with sword and spear at the ready. She
dwarfed the expansive Blessed William, easily out-gunned the Tirghráthóir,
and even, impossible though it would have seemed to anyone, out-intimidated
the Black Pearl.
She loomed in the water like a titan or a giant,
her presence so heavy in the water that the other ships were like moons
being drawn to her as a planet, the very gravity of her vibrating the air
and the bones of the other sailors.
"The Q.A.R.," Jack whispered, staring up at it as
if in the presence of God.
"Come again?" Inigo said.
"The Queen Anne's Revenge. Blackbeard's ship!"
Suddenly, Jack spun around, yelling to his petrified crew. "Raise white!"
"Are you mad?" Inigo demanded, catching Jack's arm.
"I'd be mad not to!"
"You're saying there actually exists a ship you
fear?"
"You've never met Blackbeard, have ye, mate?"
Jack said, nodding in satisfaction at Inigo's expression. "There's plenty
reason to fear. Damn, but I thought he'd finally gone on..."
Inigo craned his head for a better view of the ship.
"What are they doing, do you wonder?"
Jack followed his gaze. Along the Queen Anne's
Revenge's starboard side, a small rowboat was being lowered into the
water, containing just two men, both at the oars. There was a white flag
tied to the rudder.
It landed down into the water with hardly a splash,
and began rowing unmistakably toward the Black Pearl.
Jack looked around at his immobile crew. "Well,
don't just stand there gawking, ye mangy dogs!" he barked. "Prepare to
bring 'em aboard! Roberts," he added, turning to his co-captain. "Send
word to the Blessed and the Tirghráthóir and
have Grace and Kidd over here this second."
"You know, if you only asked, I'd gladly teach you
to write..."
"Just get to it."
"Five steps ahead of you, captain," said Anamaria,
coming up from behind the pair. She was flanked by the respective captains
of the allied ships. Granuaile had taken a couple cuts and bruises from
the battle, and Kidd's limp was far more pronounced, causing him to rely
almost fully on his cane.
They had only enough time for a very brief reception
before the boat from the Q.A.R. arrived at the Pearl's side, and
its occupants lifted unceremoniously aboard. The two oarmen were both young,
probably in mid-twenties, in plain working man's clothes. The first one
had brown hair, fluffy and a bit wavy, and the second one, shorter and
a little thinner, had black hair tied into a short ponytail. The leading
man, the brown-haired one, walked swiftly across the deck to Jack and the
other three captains, with his companion trailing behind, and then both
bowed shortly.
"Captain Jack Sparrow," the brown-haired man said
reverently, "we come to you under a white flag of truce to negotiate matters
with you of utmost urgency."
Sensing this was not quite where the conversation
was meant to go, Jack gave a very slow, hesitant nod, and said, "And who
might you be, lad?"
"You don't know me, sir. I was but a boy when last
the Queen Anne's Revenge came in contact with the Black Pearl.
My name is Israel Hands. Presently Captain Israel Hands, sir."
It took a lot of self-control for Jack to not gape
at the boy. "You're captain of the Q.A.R., then?" he asked, as coolly as
he could manage.
"Yes sir. It is to my regret and eternal shame that
I could not come to your aid sooner, but we're loathe to use the 'tools'
imparted to us by my predecessor, sir, for fear of wasting them, though
in this case we saw no other option available to us. Yet still... my apologies.
We will set a crew to the repairs of your ships as soon as can be arranged."
"Have you come from the city?" Inigo asked. "What
of the people there?"
"Many dead, the rest evacuated. We... tried all
we could," said Hands, with a pained look on his face. "There are full
teams set to work on the fires now, but it will take ages to put them out
no matter how many men combat them. His lordship Mission and his family
were thankfully spared from the destruction; they are aboard our ship now,
ready to accompany us."
"Accompany you where?"
"No, us, sir, us. That is the reason for
my seeking audience with you so: I have been sent to collect you. The Order
has called a meeting and requests your immediate attendance."
The four allied captains exchanged looks with one
another. Jack said, "Then we shall depart at once. To your ship?"
"Afraid not, sir. The Queen Anne is too large
to pass through to the Order's meeting hall. May I humbly request that
we peruse your ship for this purpose?"
Behind them, the driver sail lost the strength to
stay aloft and crashed over onto its side, in a great din of shattering
wood and tearing canvas.
Jack's expression remained unchanged, being of the
kind that knows it would take too much effort to effectively express everything
that was happening internally at the moment, and has resolved to wash its
hands of the issue. He said, "If y'can manage it."
It turned out that the Queen Anne's Revenge
had in fact set out with the intent of repairing some besieged ships, or
else she was just normally in the habit of carrying spare timber, nails,
and enough canvas to resail her own ship ten times over. The Black Pearl
was given possibly the quickest repair treatment of her life, as makeshift
as was in her capacity, but before the clocks had reached 1 in the morning,
she was ready to sail again-- if only for short distances.
Under Hands's direction, the Black Pearl
sailed south of Libertalia's coast to a small inlet, walled with high cliffs.
The end of the inlet opened into a large lake about a quarter of a mile
across, and it was here that the ship weighed anchor and the boats were
lowered to row into the small cave set into the western wall.
"No," Inigo told Will, turning back to the waiting
boats with a lantern in one hand.
"I haven't even asked you anything yet," Will said
resentfully.
"But I know what you would ask," said the Spaniard,
nodding at both his valet and Delphine, who stood beside him. "No, you
cannot accompany us. This is a meeting exclusively for members of the Order."
"What's the Order?" Will asked.
"It's another term for the Brethren of the Coast,"
Inigo said quickly, and turned away again before the next question stopped
him in his tracks once more.
"What's the Brethren of the Coast?"
Jack happened to pass by the trio when this query
was voiced, and took the liberty to answer it. "Y'know the Code, the Pirate's
Code?"
"Yeah..."
"Pirate's Code. Code of the Brethren. Brethren of
the Coast," said Jack.
"Which coast?" Delphine asked suspiciously, after
a moment's pause.
Inigo and Jack exchanged glances. "Every coast,"
Jack said. Then, as an afterthought, added, "And the open sea, come to
it."
"Well, that's not a very definitive name, then,
is it?"
"That's hardly the point."
"The point is that the Brethren of the Coast are
the governing force behind piracy... strange as that may sound," said Inigo,
not anymore patient than before but bearing with it for Jack's sake. "And
all Elder Pirates are members by default. Jack more than any of us, naturally."
Will seemed to brighten at this. "Did you help found
it?" he asked Jack.
"I'm not that old!"
"'Was just a question..." the boy said reproachfully.
"Captain Sparrow," came Hands's voice from the boat
far below them. The two captains peered over the side to meet his gaze.
There were two other huddled shapes in the boat beside hands, one of whom
had the distinctive bulk of Libertalia's governor, Mission. "We should
be departing presently. The meeting should be starting soon."
"You're not missing anything exciting," Jack assured
the Turner siblings. "Just keep to yerselves 'ere and don't-- start the
ship on fire or anything, right?" He slid over the edge of the starboard
railing and down a rope into the waiting boat. Inigo gave a small, gentlemanly
bow, and, lantern still in hand, disappeared after him.
"There he goes again," Delphine seethed. "Acting
like he's so much older than us. How d'you stand for it, Will?"
"Nnh?" said Will, distracted. William Kidd had just
walked past him, his limp slightly improved though he still stuck steadfastly
to his cane. A couple of other sailors helped the older captain down the
rope into the boat. It seemed to him there was something strange in the
movement of his walk. Not the limp, really, but in how it seemed to falter...
"I said, how d'you stand for Sparrow actin' like
he's got more years on us than he really does?"
"Oh, I dunno. I 'spose it's not much of a stretch
for him."
Granuaile passed them then, the hilt of her two-hander
bumping into Delphine's shoulder. The jolt caused Granuaile to turn, or
seemed to; perhaps she had been spurred on by something else.
"Listen," she said to Delphine in a hushed voice.
"I know you and I are not well known to each other, little dolphin, but
may I offer some advice?"
Slightly puzzled by the question, Delphine gave
a hesitant "Aye?"
The Irishwoman waved a hand vaguely around her own
forehead. "Blue as that is bad luck."
And before the Jackal could form anything resembling
a reply, Granuaile was overboard and out of sight.
End Chapter XIII