Voyages of the Dawn Chaser

Voyage Three - Lucifers Sword

It was three days later that the Black Pearl sailed out to sea again. During that time the crew had indulged in a day and night of drunken relaxation, then nursed their hangovers for a further day, all under the command of Mr Gibbs and with no word from their captain. The third day they spent in hard labour, chivvied by Gibbs, as the ship was re-provisioned with goods that appeared on the shore as if from nowhere.

Of Jack there was still no sign.

But as the sun sank on that third day their wandering captain returned. No one asked him where he had been, though Gibbs seemed to know, but they had seen the longboat appear around the headland as the red rays of sunset buried their faces in a claret coloured sea, so he had been somewhere other than Polly's farm. But the truth was that for the moment they didn't care, and as he appeared they had all breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Not that he seemed to be in joyous mood himself, wherever he had been to it seemed that he had returned with no less a load on his shoulders than he had left them with. Maybe no surprise there though, given that Barbossa had been propped up in the stern of the longboat as frozen and silent as when the captain had rowed away.

But Jack now had the air of a man with an unpleasant but unavoidable duty to perform, an observation that gave no one any pleasure. He'd been grim faced and uncommunicative as he taken Gibbs offered hand and clambered aboard, and, other than to command that the silent Barbossa be placed back in the cabin, and issue the order to prepare to hoist anchor, he had remained silent as they made ready to sail. Gibbs had cast him an anxious look, but he too said nothing, at least not in when anyone else was in earshot. Raggetti, though, knew that he had tackled Jack the once, for he had seen the captain hunch a shoulder and mutter something. Those few words had been enough to bring a look of resigned horror to Gibbs face, and a half protest that the captain forestalled with an impatiently raised hand before he turned away. Gibbs had cast him one worried look then shrugged and bustled about overseeing the manhandling of their second captain back to the cabin. Raggetti reflected on the short exchange and decided that he didn't like that look of Gibbs at all, then he hurried off to find Pintel.

Mr Gibbs been back on deck as they headed for open waters though, hollering orders as Cotton took the helm. Jack Sparrow had positioned himself at the stern, staring at the darkening sea behind them with a deep crease between his brows and teeth worried lips. Raggetti, tying off lines with Pintel, cast as many looks in his direction as he could without being noticed, wondering what it was that the man was watching for. No one else seemed concerned. So he was the only one to see the sudden relaxing of his captain's shoulders as a blur of white appeared out of the bay beyond the headland. Whatever it was that had fallen in behind them Captain Jack was very pleased to see it, and as he turned away his smile was wide and the swagger was back in his walk.
'Yes, very satisfied he had looked at that moment' Raggetti thought and wondered what it was that Captain Jack had looked for so anxiously before returning to his tasks.

The rest of the crew were not so happy when events became clear however. The blur of white proved to be a ship, big as the Pearl and fast and fearsome looking in some strange way, and flying no flag they recognised. Only Raggeti and Pintel had exchanged knowing looks, for they had seen this white ship before, then they caught their captain's eye and saw suspicion bloom there, so they ducked their heads and said nothing. The white ship had taken up a line behind them, never coming closer but never falling back either, wherever they were going it didn't seem that they were going alone.

In lieu of word from their captain, who seemed disinclined to tell anyone anything soon, the men turned to Mr Gibbs for reassurance; but even from him they got precious little joy.
"Now lads there be naught to fear," he'd rumbled as they had surrounded him demanding answers. "Friend of Jack's it be and a powerful fine ally in a scrap is all you need to know. Helped me and Jack out in a spot of bother in Tortuga her captain did, and has agreed to lend a hand in the business we be about."
"Which be what?" Pintel demanded.
Gibbs sighed and cast a quick look around him, but Jack was no where to be seen,
"Goin' to see an old friend of Jack's. One who might know what ails Barbossa. " Gibbs looked at the men around him and nodded sagely,
"Believe me when I tells you that this friend be best approached with force of numbers on your side."
"Another one then?" Raggetti asked nervously.
"Another one what?" Gibbs played confused not really wanting to tell them.
"Another like the sea witch, Calypso I means."
Gibbs sighed, there were times when Ragetti was not a fool, and, damn the man, usually when you wanted him to be. Nothing for it though, so he sighed and gave a resigned smile,
"Aye, well. I'd not be sure o' that." He said carefully, "But a witch o' some sorts to be sure."
"Another one!" Pintel growled, "Where'd he find them all, tell me that."
Gibbs just shrugged, he'd wondered the same but he'd not admit that to the crew,
"He's Jack Sparrow. Don't really need any more excuse than that. Now do it?"
That had been the end of the conversation for Jack had caught sight of them and had sauntered down the decks in a very meaningful way, the sight of him sending the crew scattering back to their duties.

"What did they want to know?" Jack asked Gibbs as he watched the men scuttle away.
"About the ship behind us. That, and where we be goin'."
"And..?"
"And what?"
"What did you tell them?"
"Like you said, that the ship is there to lend us aid should we need it, and that we are going to see someone who might know about Barbossa."
Jack nodded silently and made to turn away, his face shuttered. He'd been unusually serious, almost remote, since he had returned to the Pearl, and the persistence of his sombre mood was setting Gibbs back hair up, for it was unusual for Jack to go more than a day or so without playing the fool in some way or another.
"Why Jack?" he blurted out.
Jack turned, looking more confused than annoyed at the question,
"Why what?"
"Barbossa. Why? There be no love lost twixt the pair of you, so why?"
He moved closer and put hand on his friend's wrist,
"Tis foolhardy to go there of all places, particularly now when you know the Spanish are rare desperate to get sight of you. Why not just leave Barbossa somewhere safe if you not be inclined to toss him over the side?, ..and I can see why you might not be." He hurried to add. "But going there... where we be goin'. Why?"

The curve of Jack's lips flattened and his whiskers outlined the downward turn of his mouth as he looked at the hand on his arm. For a moment it seemed to Gibbs that he was seeing another time and place, another hand. Jack was silent for a moment then he smiled a cold and bitter smile,
"As well chain him to the mast, as the lady captain so clearly, and kindly, pointed out to me."
Gibbs swallowed hard and wondered again at the dealing between those two, for old friend as he was he'd think more than twice before reminding Jack of that incident. But Jack seemed more concerned by other memories and other treachery than that, and he raised his eyes and stared towards the sea, now dark and shadowed under the stars,
"This may or may not be Calypso's doing, but I'll not be her pawn in it if it is. I've had enough of dancing on a goddess's string for the while I thank you. I shot him once, and I'd do so again," he paused as if remembering another voice for a moment, his frown deepening at whatever the thought was, " but I'll not see him like this."
The words trailed off into silence. Then, seeing Gibbs anxious frown, he smiled a small and weary smile.
"The Spanish can look all they like mate, they'll not see us. Trust me on that. Elanor and her ghost will watch our backs, and naught gets passed their beady eyes. We'll be fine as long as she sails with us."

'That, perhaps, answered one question, the one of why he would not move unless she came too,' Gibbs thought to himself. 'Relied on little in this world did Jack, but seems he's comfortable enough to rely on her and her ghost. Polly was right maybe.'
But Jack was still talking, though his voice had dropped to a low growl,
"I've seen hell Mr Gibbs, and what an unforgiving eternity can mean for a man. I've no taste for bein' the judge that sends someone else there. Not on someone else's say so at least. Man lives his life and takes the consequences, and that's fair enough in my book, but this smacks of unfair interference to me. If there is a way he can be returned to his unpleasant self then I'll try it. If we fail .." he flapped a dismissive hand, "well..so be it. Can live with that."
He pointed a long finger towards Gibbs.
" If we succeed though, then he and I are going to have words. When he is back amongst the living.. Then. I'll shoot him!"
With that he strode off leaving Gibbs to stare after him and wonder just what it was that captain Elanor and her ghost had said.

***

In the sea between the two ships that Lady and Calypso watched for a moment, each satisfied with what they saw. Before them the black ship was hoisting more canvas, skimming the seas as if hull and wave were partners in a dance, behind them the future ship, decks and sails impossibly white in the moonlight, took up the tempo of that dance and joined in, bow rising as she matched speed and course.

The die was cast now, these two captains would not abandon their course and they would see the matter through, for both were canny and neither of them cared to fail. But there were still other cards to be laid if matters were to fall out right.

In the shadow of the spray The Lady looked at the sea goddess with a slightly questioning smile; Calypso returned the look with one of steady and expressionless consideration for a moment before a sly smile slid over her painted lips,
"Aye, there be those who'd best be prepared," she purred as if answering unspoken words. "I know where witty Jack be headed, 'tis a good choice is true, though a hard one for him of aall men, but a little help would nat go amiss." Her voice took on a sharper note, "But let us be clear on this, the bargain remains as it were. Agreed Lady?"

The silent shade seemed to consider that for a moment before she dipped her head, looked towards the departing ships, and smiled her agreement.

***

They sailed for a week, heading south with the white ship always close behind them. They stopped and took on water and fruit just once as they skirted the coast of Guyana then they headed down the coast of Peru towards Lima.

These were unfriendly waters, if indeed any could be called anything else for the moment. However years of studying his enemies told him that being taken by the English was preferable to falling into Spanish hands with things being as they were. But he could do nothing about that other than remind himself that Elanor had no desire to be seen either and she had sharper eyes, or at least her ghost did. If danger threatened it would be she who shouted the warning first and so Jack kept a close watch on the white ship, keeping one eye cocked for the warning flags.

He had no desire to meet a galleon at this point in time, however laden with treasure she might be, and any ship they encountered here would be carrying a lot of it, gold and silver and other pretty baubles. He'd taken a Spaniard before of course, and the memory of the last such encounter reminded him that the Spanish had as many scores to settle with Captain Jack Sparrow as the English king, and perhaps more, for he had made a pretty penny from the encounter. Made more than one powerful man look a fool too, though he'd not intended it to be the way of it. But this was not the time to risk damage to the Pearl, irrespective of the hold full of treasure that a Spanish ship caught here might have.
'Twas a pity that the crew knew that as well as he,' he thought.' It had been some time since they had done any pirating worth the name and few of them would be willing to pass up the chance of a doubloon or ten, not without an argument at least.' Watching them he could see that they were both nervous and hopeful of the possibility of a rewarding scrap. Jack, however, had every intention of passing up such an opportunity, was relying on Elanor's ghost to make sure that no such chance arose in fact. Her far seeing eyes would warn him well before a possible prize came into view, which would allow them time to avoid being seen.

Her presence brought another boon too, for it saved him from having to trust the vagaries of the compass. In the circumstances he would prefer not to have to navigate while all the time hoping that he was wanting the right thing at the critical moment, or, perhaps more to the point, that he understood which of his wants the compass was addressing at a given moment in time. Jack was quite well aware that his wants were as confusing as they had ever had been, more so than usual in fact, just as he knew that life would never again be as straightforward as it had been back in the days when he stole the Dauntless to seek the Pearl. Dying had a terrible habit of complicating matters, even after you returned to the world.

For a moment he spared a thought for William who would one day face the same realisation, and with added the complication of having Elizabeth waiting for him too. And she would be waiting on that far off shore; she would keep her battle made vows and stay true for the necessary time to achieve her beloved's freedom despite the undeniable cost; Jack was sure of that, not least because he would make it his business to see to it that she was. and did.

He pulled his mind back to the matter in hand and his need for discretion, them having no knowledge of the gold lying in the strong room of the ship behind them, or of her ability to get them more. So it was for the best they didn't know. Might give them ideas about visiting the white ship if they found out, them being pirates, which would be a painful confrontation for them and probably for him too. Elanor had a cutting way with words in the appropriate situation, assuming she contented herself with words that was, and he had no wish to irritate her more than was necessary while he was still so dependent upon her assistance. He didn't think she would cut and run even then, but he couldn't be completely sure.

Not for the first time he cursed life for giving him so little experience of women of her ilk

***.

But she was true to her word, whatever she thought of their mission, and twice in the next few days she flew the warning flags, giving him a new heading away from the approaching vessel. But the ocean was empty as they headed down passed Lima, and the greatest military danger, in the middle of the night watches. Yet despite Elanor's ghost's watchfulness Jack remained on deck as they crossed the main trade route, scanning the waters around them through the glass. Her glass that was, for she had handed it to him just as he was leaving,
"Don't lose this Jack, " she had seemed a little concerned as he smiled widely and tucked it inside his coat. "If you get taken at any time then make sure you pitch it over the side or under a hedge before they get you. They probably wouldn't recognise it as being special until they tried to use it, by which time I expect they would have hung you, but even so it would not be sensible to let it fall into other people's hands."
He'd pouted at her implication, but then stared at her with serious eyes as he thought through the consequences,
"Then why give it me?" he demanded, still a little annoyed.
She smiled slightly and turned away,
"Because I'd rather you were a little better prepared than the enemy if we should get separated."
Her voice was quiet and resigned and yet something about it flicked him on the raw,
"Enemy? Whose enemy? Enemies are all mine not yours!" He'd scoffed, trying to push the uncomfortable feeling away.
She had given him a straight look at that,
"Pretty much everyone in this world is my enemy, believe me, and you know it."
He'd opened his mouth protest, then shut it as eh caught her look, she was probably right and she knew that he knew it.
"Aye, well, I suppose that's the case." was all he said.

'Not much else he could say really, not in the circumstances,' he had thought as he had rowed back to the Pearl, 'But best not forget that it was not my doing that she's here. I've taken far too much responsibility for other people's mistakes recently, mustn't slip into doing that again.'
But some deeply buried part of his mind promised at that point that he would do nothing more to endanger her and her beautiful ship than he was already doing. The rest of his mind just hoped that events would let him honour that vow without killing someone else, especially himself.

Now he recalled that thought as he slid the glass inside his coat, and he sighed.
'After all it's not as if I haven't got enough worries of my own,' he mused with a wriggle of disquiet, 'An hour or two and every sense will be telling me I'm back in that bloody locker, and I'm not quite sure how I'm going to do this.'
He looked around him at the busy men who did his bidding, for the moment at least, knowing that he couldn't let them see. Some of them had been there of course and so might suspect, if they had the imagination to think about it, but certainty was a different matter and for his own sake, as well as theirs, he must not let them know. He was on his own with this and he couldn't afford to show a moment of weakness, whatever it cost him in nightmares later.
'Nothing new there then,' he thought as he headed below decks in search of rum.

***

The sky was just starting to lighten as they rounded the headland, edged carefully in towards the shore and dropped anchor. Jack knew what he would see before he raised the glass and steeled himself for the blanching of his stomach the sight was likely to bring. The first glance proved him right about that and he swallowed hard on the sudden nausea, trying to slow his racing heartbeat by force of will as he looked at the shoreline.

The coastal strip here was a desert, white and bleak and baked by a hazy but powerful sun. It was just as he recalled it, mile upon mile of glittering sands, dry and silent, rolling as the swell, and fronted by wave after wave of impressive dunes. Jones could have taken this inhospitable strip as the model for the locker; indeed he might have done so for the resemblance was uncanny. Jack repressed a shudder as he realised he was looking for the shadow of the Pearl on those dunes.

Once he was beyond the first crest of dunes there would be no sight of the sea, no hint of water at all, only the sun, the glare and the shimmering heat. Just like the locker.
But there was no choice, he had to cross several miles of that bone dry hell before he would reach the place he needed to be, and reach it he must if he was to do this, for there was no other way of summoning her.

For a moment he stood and stared unseeing at the shoreline and wondered if he really, really, wanted to do this. Why should he put himself through what he suspected was to come for Barbossa, the man who twice stole his ship? So what if Calypso was behind the old goat's state, no doing of his now was it, so why should he make it good?
'But its not really for Barbossa is it?' the little voce from the back of his mind trilled. 'As much for you as for him, is it not? Need to be able to live with yourself don't you? If you walk away now . well maybe you will. then again maybe you won't. Don't want to risk finding out when the chance is past now do you? Eh? Anyway, face this now and you are free of it, walk away and it will have you by the goods forever. You know that.'

There was no escaping the truth of that last thought. The nightmares were less frequent now but they still came, and they would do so forever unless he found a way to break the hold of the fear. He had hoped that the water of life would end it but that had proved to be a forlorn hope. In the nights after drinking it he had realised that though it would take away the threat of the locker it could not remove the memory of it. The place remained in his head, a destination waiting for him whenever he closed his eyes. Only going back and beating it would truly set him free.

That was one reason why Elanor had come, for in the horror of realisation he had most unwisely told her of what awaited him here.

Now the wondering was over, now was time for the reality of it. For a moment his stomach turned and he felt the same hopeless dread that he had felt all those years ago as he had watched red hot metal descend on his flesh, knowing what awaited him if it happened and unable to change it. Just as then he wanted to scream and beg, to do whatever it might take to remove the impending disaster. But just as then he was resolved to do no such thing. Pride? Maybe, or maybe even then he had known that his only hope of survival lay in not doing what was expected of him.

Yet he was surprised to hear his own voice carry across the deck, Captain Jack Sparrow at his most calm and authoritative, as if his vitals were not a squirming and jellified turmoil,
"Lower the boats."

***

The deepest circle of hell is cold, not hot, so they say. A wasteland of ice not lakes of boiling sulphur holds those guilty of the greatest sins. Yet this place was both, for it had the look of ice even as it burned like the fire of damnation. Just like the locker.

High above them the sky was fogged, the haze hiding the furnace whose blast seared their skins and lanced their eyes. The sand beneath their boots would have steamed had there been any water here, instead it had to console itself with slipping away beneath them, the shifting surface making it an effort to stand, let alone walk, the effort of doing so turning their thigh muscles to lead within a few paces. Even Elanor looked hot, her pale skin flushed and shiny, her hair spitting gold and silver sparks in the hard glare of the light.

Gibbs had been horrified when Jack told him he was to stay with the ship, but it had to be that way for Jack would not risk another abandonment. For the same reason he had chosen to take Raggetti ashore but not Pintel, and two of the newer crew, including Murtogg Yet he needed someone he could trust, or probably trust, which without Gibbs left him with a choice of one, so whether he wanted it or not Elanor had to come too.

They had met on the stark white shore, Jack making sure that she arrived before they did to give her the advantage. She had understood that for she had met them with knives as well as pistols in her belt, familiar weaponry on display to draw attention away from the hidden and less familiar ones. That, and establish her a one of them, a pirate, in their minds. Her stance mirrored his own as he jumped out and sauntered up the beach to meet her.

Even so he heard the muttered curses behind him and caught sight of the tow headed lad called Ironnson cross himself before he clambered out of the boat. For a moment Jack saw her through their eyes, observing again those attributes of the lady that had become too familiar to see most times; the unreal perfection of her, the frightening clarity of her beauty and the strange aura of power that hung around her. Looking at her in this unforgiving white daylight he thought could also see, for the first time, the slight changes the water had brought about in her. Her hair seemed slightly brighter, the line of her jaw slightly softer and her eyes even larger than before; even her outline seemed slightly changed, the line of her limbs if anything more elegant and her balance more cat like. Fleetingly he wondered if she saw similar changes in him; and what the crew had noticed, if anything.

Raggetti was standing frozen in the surf, staring at the lady in something close to wonderment. When she turned to inspect Jack's companions the man blushed and dipped his gaze downwards as if afraid. Jack breathed slightly easier at the sight, the worry he had refused to admit, that they might force him to defend her, easing. He turned back towards her and nodded his head in brief acknowledgement,
"Captain Cavendish," he kept his voice carefully neutral, without flourish or flounce, or hint of flirtation, "kind of you to accompany us."
It was a greeting of equals, sailor adventurer to sailor adventurer, and he knew the men with him would recognise it as such and follow his lead, for the moment at least It was the best he could do in the circumstances. She didn't smile or speak but just inclined her head in acknowledgement. Jack suppressed a smile and breathed easier., she knew how to play the game.

Formalities over he cast a backward look to make sure that the three were ashore and then steeled himself to look inland.

In front of them the sands shimmered white as an ancient bone beneath a milky sky. He felt bile rise in his throat at the sight of it. These dunes were almost indistinguishable from those that the Pearl had breasted to reach the locker shore, only the breeze betraying that this was not the same place. He had known this place was similar but not so similar, not so.. familiar in its burning whiteness. It even smelled like the locker and he could almost believe that if he turned back towards the surf he would see Elizabeth, hear her speaking to him of rescue. Rescue! a voice deep within his head scoffed, as if such a place could ever be escaped from. It couldn't of course, there was no undoing what had been done, not where such a place was concerned. Barbossa wasn't the only one trapped within his head, it was just that unlike his old enemy he was still walking around, like one of those monsters from the stories sailors sometimes told, the walking dead.

For a moment he felt rooted to the spot, as if his boots were suddenly lined with lead, as a rising surge of fear sent needles pricking his veins and tightened bands of steel within his chest. Voices on the wind seemed to clamour at him, many voices, some laughing, some crying, some screaming, and all of them his own voice.
Jack swallowed hard as an icy wave washed down his back and set his belly burning, he had known it would be hard, but not this hard.

"Captain Sparrow." Elanor's voice cut across the silence, her tone was calm and impersonal, without apparent emphasis. "You have a course in mind I trust, for I'd prefer this business was done with as soon as possible. These are hostile waters and I for one would rather not have my ship caught at anchor by the Spanish."
Jack looked at her wide eyed, her face showed little but some shadow in the expression in her own eyes told him that she knew what he was feeling, and that she doing all she could in the circumstances to pull him back to the present, playing on the one thing that could reach him, he realised, concern for his ship. A surge of something close to gratitude swept through him, for her words steadied him and drove back away the threatened panic.
"Aye, I'm at one with you on that."
The reminder of his name also pulled the familiar mask back into place and the words came out well enough.

With an assumed ease he pulled the compass from his belt, the steady needle easing another concern, and with a flourish he pointed in the same direction,
"That way."