In which Groves and Hathaway collect some information, and Jack and Elanor run out of help

There was no doubt about it now the light was failing, how quickly was hard to judge because they were well into the jungle, if that was the right name for it, and several layers of green were between them and what counted as sky. But the light seemed to have a paler, washed out, look, and all about them the colours were fading as the sunless day aged. The vegetation was responding to the change, some flowers were furling petals, their scent dying as they did so, while others were opening out as if preparing to hunt, their perfume adding new notes to the smell of the place. The prey was stirring too, a host of rustlings and scratching starting in the canopy above them and in the undergrowth on either side, and small insects were taking to the wing. Jack cursed as a hazy cloud of blue specks rose from a tree on his left sweeping across his face and hair as they passed.
"So now we are to be eaten alive as well as driven mad," he muttered as he batted them on their way with ends of his sash.

They had set off into the trees rather than climb down the ledge; though nothing was said neither of them were willing to take the risk of whatever it was playing with their minds convincing them to let go of the rope half way down. But the heat and the thickening vegetation meant this was far from being an easy option and now it seemed that other dangers might be added, and a few irritants too. Elanor swatted away an insect cloud of her own and wondered what the point of all this life was.

But that was not her main concern.

"It shouldn't be this big," she said to Jack as they stopped for more water, "Ariadne got it wrong, that's not so surprising in the circumstances, but I can't help feeling that its got bigger since we got here."
"Agreed," Jack was frowning down at the compass in his hand, "seems to grow as we walk. I'd swear it was not this large when looked at from above." He glanced up and gave her a wry smile, "maybe that's because its not finished with us yet."
"Nice thought!" She grimaced as she refastened her water bottle, "I don't think what's happening to us is random. Do you?"
"No," he said softly, looking around him, "maybe we should see what your ghost makes of it."
Elanor reached for the comms switch then stopped at the prompting of some inner voice,
"Perhaps," she said slowly, "but I think I'd rather hear what you think first."
That brought a startled look from him, the black brows rising so far that the movement wrinkled the wet scarf about his forehead. She smiled at the look,
"You've had much more experience with the weird and wonderful than Ariadne has, or that I have come to that. So what do you make of it?"

The flash of pleasure in his face was fleeting but real enough, then a frown replaced it as he circled his hand at the surrounding flowers.
"Not so weird maybe. These, their scent or pollen, is like opium, it twists the mind, paints pictures in the head. Stirs things best left un-thought."
She had surmised something similar,
"Seems more than likely. Wish I'd thought to bring gas masks, but who would have guessed it from up there." Her voice became hesitant, "Random do you think?"
Jack turned and gave her a long and thoughtful stare,
"Maybe, maybe not. What's on your mind is bound to be most easily got at, but perhaps it finds the things you are tryin' not to think about too."
Elanor nodded, that was pretty much her own conclusion,
"Yes. I've never taken hallucinogens but I suppose it might well thin the walls of repression."
Jack gave her a sideways look, and his voice was far away and thoughtful.
"Not quite sure what you mean by that, but if you mean that it shows you things you'd rather not see then I'd say you are not far off."
He looked back down at the compass.

"Have you? Ever taken opium I mean, or anything like it?" Elanor asked after a moment.
"Many times, " Jack looked up again and smiled at her startled look, "no clever little things to chill the skin into unfeeling in my world luv. Rum or poppy syrup is all there is."
The words stirred a slight sense of shame at her assumptions and she sighed,
"Of course, I was forgetting. But never just to escape?"
Jack gave a short laugh and shook his head,
"There is no escaping Elanor. Not for the likes of me. Anyways it's always there when you come back to it. Opium? Well I tried it once but it nearly got me hung, so rum is enough now. But from what I remember the things we are seeing are not unlike it."
He turned another thoughtful look upon her,
"Unless you are suggesting something else."
"Such as?"
"That it's not just what happens to be in our heads, that it's testing us in some way?" His tone was sly.

Elanor hesitated for a moment, then sighed
"It has crossed my mind," she admitted. "Stupid I know. There is no way that could be the case, but this place has a feeling of .. well.intent."
Jack nodded and looked around again,
"I know what you mean darlin'. Like it's watching us. But that would suggest this is a very remarkable place indeed." He tilted his head and looked at her from under his lashes, "Just the sort of place you would find the Fountain," he purred.
She raised her eyes to the branches above them and sighed more deeply,
"Well I'm not sure about that, I can't see why the one follows from the other, but certainly it's a very singular place."
Jack gave a broad smile and stepped across to her side to put his arm around her shoulders,
"Stretching things a little, don't you think? To have such a singular place where my compass says the fountain is and for it not to be." He gave her a quick squeeze, "and you know it."
"I suppose so."
He gave an exaggerated and wide eyed start that made her smile her capitulation,
"Well if you really have been murdered by Kraken and sent to the locker and come back again, I suppose I have to accept that your belief in the Fountain is not so irrational."

That brought a shout of laughter and released her shoulders, but only to wave his finger in her face,
"Finally." He tilted his head and smiled, "remembering the Quantum eh?"
Elanor shrugged and nodded.
" You win. Let's see how far we can get before it's too dark to move."
As they set off once more, Jack looked back at her over his shoulder,
"One of these days you are going to tell me you know."
"Am I? About what?"
"This bloody quantum thingy, sounds fascinating."
Elanor laughed and shook her head,
"No Jack, I don't think I am. God alone knows what you'd come up with if I did."
He grinned again,
"You will, just wait and see."
She watched him stride away, jaunty swagger back in force despite the shirt clinging to his ribs and the soaking hair, and she shook her head again,
"Heaven help me," she muttered, "if you are a figment of my imagination then I must be madder than I thought."

***

Nighttimes in Tortuga were noisy and violent affairs and Groves felt himself to be in more danger than at almost anytime on the Endeavour. It was not more than two hours after sun down and already the doorways sported a crop of insensible drunks and the alleys a knife fight or two. The smell of food floated out from the taverns and cookhouses, mixing with the tang of the mud flats and powder and the middens to produce a stench that rivalled even the slaughter shed and market smells of the morning. Shots echoed at intervals, sending Groves into a frenzy of stiff lipped anxiety, and more than one brawl forced them to take a detour on their walk to the quayside. He might not be wearing navy braid but he was sure that those around him could see the shadow of it. Hathaway however seemed totally unfazed by his surroundings.

They had taken a room, if it could be called that, in a lodging house on the edge of the docks, a mean little cubicle with a cracked ceiling and patched walls and with a tiny unglazed window that looked towards the smoke sheds. A couple of flea ridden straw pallets with rags for sheets and a rickety chair were its only furnishing and Groves had looked around in horror as Hathaway shut the door and jammed the scuffed chair back beneath the lock. It was clear that it was not the first time it had been used this way.
"How can people live like this?" he said with moue of distaste.
Hathaway gave him a dispassionate look,
"Many do Mr Groves, and there are no doubt as many who would kill a man to get a chance of even this. I've seen worse."
He pulled out his pistol and began checking it.

Groves had paused in his opening of the battered shutters, the room was like a bread oven, and smelt as if the bread had been standing there uncooked for several weeks at least.
"This is not new to you sir." It was a statement not a question.
Hathaway gave a small smile and went on inspecting his pistol.
"No sir here, remember that, such a slip might get us both killed. Gil if you can remember it, if not then it had best be captain, there will be plenty of men claiming that title and it should pass."
"Yes ...captain," he had intended to use the name then found that he couldn't, he could no more use the Christian name of this cold eyed man than he could have called Commodore Norrington James. Which had always been unthinkable somehow.

Groves gave a silent sigh for James Norrington as turned his gaze down to the dusty street where the whores were coming out for evening trade, maybe he had sought refuge in a room like this one. A strange and depressing thought. In the street below him the better class girls, those still young and pretty enough not to work the cheaper trade were sauntering, skirts trailing in the hot dust. Most were parading in twos, swaying their hips at passing marks, at this distance their dresses looked bright and their painted faces pretty, only closer scrutiny would show the truth, and few of their clients would care. Groves had seen enough of their sisterhood to know the realities of their business, and the lies of appearance; the truth, for all the tawdry glamour, was that more than one of the girls parading below him might be dead before morning. Several of them, and as many of their clients, would certainly be so by the end of the week.

He sighed again as he watched a young girl in dark blue, her hair glossy and skin still smooth looking in the flares of the taverns, as she sauntered from one man to another before taking the arm of a burly fellow with a bright red beard and a shaven head.
"You have been on such business before, captain?" he asked as the pair drifted into the shadow of an alley.
There was a click as Hathaway eased the pistol hammer,
"Many times."
Groves turned from the window to look at him.
"Pirates?"
Hathaway was pushing the pistol into his shirt as he replied and didn't look up,
"No, not pirates."
It was clear he didn't intend to say more, and Groves was rather glad of it.
"This Gibbs, where will we find him?" he asked instead.
Hathaway shrugged, and began on his second pistol.
"Hopefully in the taverns on the waterfront, if not then we will have to search further back into the town where we might be more noticeable. Let us hope that Mr Gibbs is flush and drinking in the sailor's taverns or penniless and dossing in the pig sties."

Groves shook his head,
"How did the man come to this? He was navy once, wasn't he?"
Hathaway shrugged again but kept his eyes on his task,
"Rum. It's not an unusual story, certainly not in these parts." He pushed the pistol into his pocket, "But Mr Gibbs did not regret his eviction from his majesty's navy over much it seems, Jack Sparrow held far more of his admiration and loyalty than ever the navy did."
Groves nodded,
"So it seems. But I've seen enough of Sparrow not to be surprised."
Hathaway gave a small smile and turned his attentions to the knife in his belt,
"So I have heard."
Groves shrugged,
"I made no secret of it. He really was the best pirate I've ever seen, a more than worthy adversary. Even Beckett thought that. Enemy or no he deserved some respect."
Hathaway sheathed the knife and reached for his jacket,
"I agree. Which is why we are looking for him."

"But we have looked before si... captain."
"One day and two nights and you didn't find Gibbs. This time we stay and keep our ears to the ground. Sooner or later someone will say something that we can use to find them." Hathaway frowned, "Or the ship, the Black Pearl. News of any one of them is what we need. But be careful who and how you ask, and remember that it's unlikely we are the only ones looking."
"And if we don't find it.... them?"
That earned him a hard look,
"Pray that we do, just pray that we do."

***

The first living thing of any size that they saw was a winged creature unlike anything they knew but reminiscent of both bird and moth, it appeared from above them and several yards away, gliding down towards the forest floor. More than a foot long it was easy to spot in the fading light for the overlapping, feathery, scales on its slim body were trimmed by glowing mosaics of colour, mostly yellow and red, which shone brightly even in the deeper shadows, and the outline of its back and wings was picked out in light emitting patches that tapered into a tail of reflecting hairs.
'Almost like a droid ' Elanor thought as she watched it spiral downwards.
The frantic scurrying around them suggested that it was a predator come to feed and a familiar sight to the other occupants of the area.

Jack was still slightly ahead of her and he reached back, catching at her arm and pulling her into the shadow of a tree, drawing his sword as he did so, watching it glide past with steady and watchful eyes.
"Not large enough to do us any harm, but better to be unseen if we can," he said quietly. "No point in declaring war on anything yet, might draw attention."
She pressed closer to his side, trying to reduce the target they presented, and nodded slightly,
"Well it answers one question, there are larger creatures down here. I was beginning to wonder."
Jack eased his sword arm, taking a firmer grip on the hilt and grimacing in disgust at his slippery hands,
"The day may be too hot for them, if that's so then this place could be teeming before too long."
"Seems that moving in the dark might not be a good idea," she looked around, "but nor might staying still."
"No way of knowin'" he agreed, "still my choice would be to stay on the move for as long as we can."

The scurrying quietened as the hunter passed by, but the silence of the lighter hours was gone and now the upper branches were swaying as things woke and ventured out from hole and nest. To their left a line of insects, spider like and heavily furred made their way down a tree trunk and set off across a patch of the same blue black rock they had seen earlier. Jack watched them wide-eyed for a moment then shuddered,
"Reminds me of some cousins of theirs, naught but the size of a pea they are but those little beasts could bite the hell out of a man. It didn't do to be without your boots, or not to have a bucket of water close to hand, around them."
Elanor smiled as she turned to look at them too,
"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but why a bucket of water?"
That earned her a solemn look,
"Because they had a taste for more . delicate. flesh if you take my meaning, and they could be up your leg before you could blink."
Elanor grinned unashamedly
"Or get off the bed?"
Jack's smile flashed,
"Or get off.. the bed," he agreed with a wink.
"I see," she said calmly, "and where did these little biters occur?"
"Southern Americas," came the laconic reply as his eyes turned back toward the marching column, "and before you ask, no I don't recall exactly how I came to be there. Other than that I was looking for the Pearl."

Elanor eased herself against his shoulder as they watched the creatures set off to forage,
"Your ship. Did you spend a long time looking for her? Gibbs said ten years or so."
Jack didn't look around but she felt him shrug,
"About that, little less perhaps."
"And while you were waiting?" she said hesitantly recalling his earlier complaints about her questions.
This time he seemed unconcerned by them,
"Made shift to get by."
"Sailed other ships?" she ventured.
"Aye, a few."
"Stolen?"
That brought his head round again and he quirked an eyebrow as the golden grin flashed unashamedly,
"Pirate," he said jauntily.
She stared back at him steadily for a moment but his look didn't change,
"Of course" she said eventually; then, as curiosity stirred again, "Who from?"
His smile took on a smug edge,
"Who ever were careless enough. A Spanish merchant or three, same number English. A Frenchman once." He looked back towards the insects as the tail of the column disappeared under the vegetation, "a warship or two." A thought seemed to strike him, "No make that three. Two Spanish and one English."
"You do like living dangerously don't you?" she said faintly.
That just brought another shrug,
"Do what's necessary, no more than that." He sheathed his sword and edged out of the shade, "Come on they've gone, we may get a little closer to our goal before it's too dark to move."

***

"Gibbs? Nat seen him for more'n a month. If you are looking for passage off you'll need ta find it for yornsel'."
The barman palmed the coins tendered and turned away to serve two whores who were set on spending the pennies they had just earned as quickly as they could.

"Might nat be so good't idea to find Gibbs. Nat as things stand."
The voice at Hathaway's shoulder was slurred but not so much so that he could be sure that listening to it would be time wasted. He looked across into grey smudge eyes, bleary, red rimmed, but not without intelligence. The man gave him a black toothed smile in return for the look,
"Gibbs was with Jack Sparra, and a powerful lot of people be looking for Sparra. Some of them people a man might not want to be meeting yet awhile."
Hathaway cast Groves a warning look as he turned slightly towards the speaker, lounging easily on the rum sticky counter.
"Sounds like you're a man with a tale to tell. But all I wants is to find Gibbs. I was told he had walked a similar path to our own and that we could trust him to do right by us."
The other man nodded a greasy tousled head,
"Ay, though you might have at that, but that's as maybe. And I'm not sayin' he wouldn't, but he ain't been seen for a while, rumour has it that Sparra came looking, and he went with him, and then others came looking for Sparra."

Hathaway took a swig of his grog and shrugged as if it didn't matter to him either way,
"I heard that Sparrow was back on the Pearl and on the far side of the world," he said.
The man frowned in consideration,
"Aye so he were but he come back. Some big set to with a high and mighty gentlemen from the company so says."
"I've heard the stories, " Hathaway scoffed, " they says that Sparrow downed the man's flag ship and scattered his fleet, now does that sound like to you?"
The man sucked in a deep breath and blew it out noisily,
"Who knows with Sparra? Certainly the word on the dock a while back were that the song had been sung and the seas were cleared of pirates, all headin' for the Cove they was."
"Where might that be?" Hathaway asked, though only because it was so obviously expected.
The man shrugged and stared down into his drink,
"Only a pirate lord could tell 'ee that, or a trusted captain."

"Which is Sparrow then?" Groves curiosity won over his desire to be elsewhere.
Hathaway tensed but relaxed again as the man seemed to see nothing strange about the question. Tortuga, like all such places, seethed with tall tales, and listening didn't seem to be any reason for suspicion for the answer came easily enough.
"Lord o' the Carribean he be, so say, and if there be a pecking order amongst the lords then that's as high as make no matter."
He shot Groves a serious look.
"Canny man is Sparra, must be to have stayed away from the rope for this long."
He took a swallow from his pot and smacked his lips,
"But that's as maybe. Stories are that Jack Sparra is a dead man walking now, and that heaven and hell be havin' words over the takin' of his soul."
He drank deeply and frowned,
"Not a good time to be around Jack Sparra, and Gibbs went after him, so not a good time to be around Josh Gibbs either."

Hathaway emptied his own mug at a gulp,
"Heaven and hell sounds a cause for concern right enough, but it's only a tale after all. Dead men don't walk."
The drinker seemed to debate on something for a moment then looked meaningfully at his near empty tankard. After a moment of careful hesitation Hathaway shrugged,
"Well it seems we'll not find Gibbs this night and I'm not adverse to a good tale."
He picked up the bottle before him and tipped a good slug into the other's mug.
The man sidled closer still and raised the filled pot in toast, the rank stink of him setting Hathaway's nose itching.
"Story goes that Jack Sparra was killed by a lass he saved. Some governor's daughter so say. Well, I tells ya, rape is one charge that's never been laid against Sparra so I'm not so sure, mind though there are those who say it was done so that she and her lad could steal Sparra's ship."
He shook his head at the perfidy of it and took another drink before showing his blackened teeth again in a smile,
"But anyways Sparra was seeming alive when he came here last month."
Edging his head closer he stared at Groves while waving his mug towards Hathaway.
"But then so were Barbossa, and both Gibbs and Sparra says he were dead, and at Sparra's hand. Yet there he were, large as life and as mean lookin' as ever when the Pearl docked. Something were wrong which ever way ye look at it."

"So what is it they say about heaven and hell?" Groves asked uneasily.
The man grinned as if seeing his discomfort,
"Say that Barbossa was brought back from hell to help fight the company and that now he won't leave without taking Sparra with him. Stole the Pearl so that Sparra could not escape beyond the map."
He took another swallow and was silent.
"And heaven?" Hathaway prompted after a moment or two.
Their companion shivered and took another deep and convulsive gulp of grog,
"Well seems heaven is unwilling to let hell have him, for they sent an angel to find him and watch over him."
To Hathaway's astonishment the man crossed himself.
"And I knows that to be true, I tells ye," he said softly, "you'd not find me goin' near Jack Sparra these days, not when he has an angel at his shoulder."
Groves frowned,
"How do you know it's true?"
The man shivered again and took another gulp,
"Because I seen her meself, when she came here lookin'. No doubt about it, I tell you, an angel she was and looking for Jack Sparra."

***
Darkness here was a strange as light. The dusk, if it could be called that, was pale and blue and somehow pearly and unreal. It was also without moon or stars and every living thing they saw seemed to carry its own light with it. They watched a march past of ant like insects with glowing heads carrying the corpse of a very large cricket, lizards with well lit spines and tails scrambled on trees trunks and over the odd outcrop of rock, moths and flies with glowing bodies danced amongst the leaves, and flowers pale as moonlight gleamed from bowers of darkening leaves. Some of the lights were so bright that they threw shadows of the leaves around them onto the ground. Jack treated them all warily after one closer encounter with a branch squatting tree rat that earned him the swipe of a curious and luminous tongue across his nose. He had leaned back in almost comical outrage as he continued to stare it down and eventually it had got the message, or realised he wasn't on the menu, and sauntered away.
"They have never seen people." Elanor said as he returned to her, rubbing his nose in irritation, "they aren't frightened of us just curious."
"Well you know what that did." Jack muttered darkly as they moved away.
"Yes, so don't let yours take you too close. God knows what types of poisons they might be capable of, the plants are bad enough."
He scowled at her but kept his distance from the emerging wildlife after that

The slope of the path had been shallow for some time, but now it was becoming steeper and the trees seemed to pack around them more closely. In many places they had to bend to avoid the cut or fluted edges of the lower leaves and to twist and turn to escape the reaching tendril of the vines.. New plants appeared, their pale flowers ghostly in the fading light and the scent was getting heavier again, but the notes of the perfume were changed, amber and wood taking the place of the musk and rose of earlier. Elanor had jumped on more than one occasion as their passing sent the liquid contents of one of the wide mouthed trumpets slopping across her boots, they could only be glad that these little reservoirs apparently held nothing more dangerous than water.

The air was if anything hotter than before and becoming harder to breath and Jack found that he was struggling to keep his mind on the present, the past rising from dark corners to taut him. At least once as he caught himself talking to the head on his sword hilt, explaining things as once she would have had him doing in life. A quick glance back to where Elanor was following reassured him that she not heard and he wondered fleetingly what memories were taunting her. He had no hesitation in blaming it on the scent, but unless they were to give up breathing there was nothing they could do but grit their teeth and go on. Time seemed to hang heavy as the flower scent here, a gradual twilight surrounding them rather than the warm swift coming dark of the world outside. Jack wished it would get on with it for he was tired and would welcome some reason to halt.

He slowed his pace to wait for Elanor to join him,
"How much more of this?" he demanded irritably as she came as stood beside him, "I swear we've walked far enough to have crossed an ocean."
She nodded,
"I agree. By my reckoning we should have walked across the full width of thing by now but we don't seem to be making much headway at all."
"But why?"
"I don't know Jack."
"We'll ask the ghost then!"
"Very well, but I doubt that she can give us reliable answers." She thumbed the comm. switch, "Ariadne, can you hear me?"
There was no answer,
"Ariadne?"
Still there wassilence.
Jack watched as Elanor frowned then pulled a device from her belt and stared at it.
"There's no reason for us to have lost contact," she said eventually, "relays are working fine. Ariadne.. are you there?
Nothing came back and after a moment she looked at Jack and shrugged.
" I don't like that at all, but it seems that we are on our own."
"Aye" Jack said staring around with wary eyes, "I wonder why now? What has it got in store d'you think?"
"No idea, but I think we would be better waiting for the light to return."
"When will that be?"
"No idea, but it has to eventually." She peered around,
"There appears to be a clearing of sorts up ahead. We'll settle there for the night." She looked at Jack. "That alright by you?"
He grimaced his reluctance but when she said no more he sighed heavily and nodded,
"Agreed, these plants and their tricks are bad enough in the light, in the dark they could be fatal. Best face whatever lies ahead in the daylight. The clearing it is then."
With a sweep of his arm he indicated that she could go first.

As she moved away from him he squinted at the plants all around them, then shivered.
"And I'd be grateful you lot would keep your nightmares to yourselves," he muttered as he followed her.