Voyages of the Dawn Chaser

Voyage 2 - Water of life

The players

Jack Sparrow – a pirate captain and a smart man, with a taste for rum, long hair, long words and even longer plans

Elanor – a ship’s captain and a smart woman, with similar tastes - except that she’d rather have brandy

Ariadne – a ship’s ghost – well maybe – very smart but with no tastes at all

Calypso – a sea goddess with a weakness for pirates, a wicked sense of humour and no sense of fair play

The Lady – herself

Barbossa – a pirate captain and a hard man with a liking for big hats, and a fear of inescapable curses and impending doom

Various crew – all of whom who had been loved by their mothers but possibly no one since

A monkey

A parrot

"Old Hob's stalking Barbossa close, at least," he looked warily around him as if the man himself would suddenly appear on the sand beside him despite their leaving him behind on the Pearl, " seems so to me."

Raggetti looked across at the man he was almost sure was called Murtogg and shrugged,
"Not shoutin' no more though."
"No, not shoutin, not doin nothing else either." Pintel spat a shred of nutshell towards the fire, "not findin' Captain Jack and that chart, not goin' after plunder, not doin' nothing."
Raggetti nodded,
"Seems paralysed he does."
Pintel spat more shell into the fire with a grimace,
"Not even eatin', after all those years of the curse when we starved, he's not even eatin'."
"Not doing much for our eating either." The one probably called Mullroy chipped in, "I mean what was the harm in us provisioning at Tortuga?"
Raggetti smirked at him,
"Captain Jack was the harm. Barbossa wants to find him, but don't want him to find us."
"Why?" the man persisted with a puzzled look, " Seems to me that he'd be found either way."
Raggetti's smirk became a grin,
"Ay, but the finding might not have the outcome Barbossa wants."
Pintel nodded and grinned at his friend,
"Might not indeed." He shot a look at Mullroy, "tricky is Captain Jack, finding him be one thing, but as Raggetti says, bein' found by him be another."

"So when are we goin' to find him." Marty chipped in but looking across towards the Pearl riding at anchor, her bulk shrunk by the expanse of sea and sky behind her. "Sea's a big place, how we goin' ta find him? No sign at sea and no sign on land. Could be dead, or worse, maybe Calypso chose ta claim him for herself now tat Jones be gone."
"Barbossa don't think so." Pintel growled. "Nor do we, do we?" He shot a belligerent look around him.
Mullroy and Murtogg exchanged looks and buried their noses in their mugs, when Pintel got that note in his voice they preferred not to argue with him. Marty had no such qualms,
"Maybe, maybe nat. Barbossa now he need to believe that Captain Jack be alive, or his chance of escaping whatever Calypso has in mind for him be gan."
"Same for us." Raggetti said sombrely, "She'll not forgive us our part in it I'm thinking." He shook his head sadly, "Might not be sendin' us mad but she'll not forget."
"So ya better believe that Captain Jack is alive and in possession of that chart," Pintel growled in Marty's direction.
The second party of men on the further side of the fire shot nervous and curious looks in their direction at the tone, but Marty didn't seem to be impressed by the implied threat.
"Even if he is nat certain that he'll be able ta find the fountain nat even that t'will save us from her if he do." He drawled as he chewed on a morsel of roasted nut.

Pintel seemed to swell for a moment, then, when it looked as if he might explode, he hissed through gritted teeth,
"Right! Think what ya likes, just as long as we find him, 'cos mark my words Barbossa is goin' to be no use to man nor beast before much longer. What he's seein' not be natural and it'll turn him madder than ever Jack Sparrow was afore much longer."
With a snarl he heaved himself to his feet,
"I'm goin for a walk, see if there be aught else than nuts to eat on this here island." He threw the remains of his nut onto the sand, "See's enough 'o nuts on the Pearl, though I'd have sworn we took none on board."
"Maybe we'll find another Kraken," Raggetti snickered as he got to his feet too.
Pintel turned on him in apparent fury,
"There be only one Kraken and it be dead, we seen it."
Raggetti seemed unmoved,
"Might not be. Might be more, must be more for there to be one in the first place. I've noticed that too, about the nuts. Where they comin' from do ya think?"
"More than one Kraken! It's a mythical creature why would there be more than one? Mythicals don't need more than one, don't need ma and pa, that's what being mythical means."
"Does not."
"Does so I tell ya."

They were still bickering about the mythical Kraken as they faded from Marty's earshot. He shot a look towards the silent Mutrogg and Mullroy, at least he thought those were their names, and shook his head,
"nat only Barbossa tat be mad, them Aztecs they knew how to curse real well, "
He gave a feral grin at the sight of their nervous faces before concentrating once more on his nut.

***

It was white; everywhere was white, as white and dry as bone. There was no sea, nor sky, nor anything other than the black timbers of the beached Pearl to show that any colour than white existed.

No wind, either. Nothing to take him away, nothing to drive him out of the past and towards the future, nothing to carry him beyond the reach of the pain and the grief. The Pearl's sails were furled and always would be now, for there was no longer any wind nor current to carry her to safety. She was lost. He had tried to buy her freedom but it seemed that it was chained to his own, and so she was lost. Just as he was.

It was hot too, hot as hell. Which was probably only to be expected. Though hell should not be white. But then this was not hell, this was the locker and that was something else entirely. No fallen angel had made this place, no sliver of the divine, just the vengeful spirit of a bitter man, and that was far worse, as he had already realised.

He was lying on his back, the sand dry as dust beneath him and the shadow of the Pearl high above. He could hear the voices, words he couldn't quite catch echoing across the endless sands. It was his own voice he had thought at first, though if he concentrated he could hear others, people long dead and gone, people whose lives and deaths had made him what he was. Particularly their deaths. But their voices were soft and distant and the ones that echoed around his head were all his own, just as the deaths were all his now. The blood on his sword was his own, and the dying face in his mind's eye was his own face; he understood now as he hadn't before, understood that he had killed himself in his attempts to escape Jones and was now doomed to do so for ever. That part of him that so wanted to live so much that it would wield his sword upon himself was strong, and it would destroy everything else he was until he was left with nothing else at all, Barbossa in all but name.
"Will not!" Some other voice whispered urgently. "That part is back where it belongs now, you know it and you can deal with it. It has always been there, nothing is changed, keep it caged like the sea devil that it is but use it when you must, without it you would be dead a hundred times over. Or the drunken fool you so often play at. You need it just as you need the others."
He was too tired to think about that and far too tired to argue. Not for the first time he wished for rum.

The sweat was running down his face now and soaking his shirt; strange that the sweat should be so cold when his shirt clung to him with such heated and clammy affection. The voices had faded and the world had moved a little, for now the Pearl's shadow loomed darker above him, casting the white glare into red tinged shadow. He could hear the clattering of the crab claws as they bore her away from him and towards the distant sea of the dead. Tia Dalma would be waiting for them there, with the souls of those he had sacrificed, waiting for the Dutchman to take them away, leaving him alone forever on these bleached bone sands. He struggled to rise but a lead weight lay on his head and an anchor sat across his arms and he could not move. He flailed his hands in anguish, struggling to free himself from the combined weight so that he might stand and chase the Pearl to the eternal sea, crying out as they cracked his bone and sank him deeper into the sand.

The voices had come down to one now, urgent and demanding, and he tried again to turn away from it. But the weight held him fast and the voice took no notice of his protests,
"Jack!"
The sound of crab claws was almost deafening but through it he could still hear that voice, pleading and demanding by turns, and he tried to raise his hands again to shut his ears so that he would not hear it's importunities.
" Jack! Jack!"
The voice seemed familiar now, but it was not his own., even so there was anxiety in the tone and a hint of something that sounded guilty,
"Mother's love Jack, wake up man."
"Easy now, he'll come to. T'was a fair crack he got but he's not dead yet."
That stopped his struggles for that voice was not known.
"Let him be a moment for I think that he hears us."
The weight of the anchor on his chest shifted and then was removed. Jack lay still wondering what this hell had in store for him now. He could still hear the clattering of claws but the sound was changing direction, coming from above him now not from beside him as before, and the slithering of sand had become more like the rustle of leaves of some shore side palm. The sweat was plastering his hair to his neck and running down his face and running down his cheeks like tears, but the chill of it seemed wrong in so hot a place.
"Captain Sparrow, can you heard me?" the unknown voice came again.
He felt himself frown and then heard a groan and a curse in a voice he recognised as his own.
The stranger seemed to have heard it too, for he spoke again though this time it seemed that he spoke to someone else,
"Take that lamp away girl, for his head will ache fit to burst and his temper will feel no better, the last thing he needs is that in his eyes,"

The sands hissed as they shifted again and then the bright light of the locker's desert faded, the shadow of the Pearl deepening above him. Jack felt a surge of panic at the thought of losing sight of his ship and in desperation he reached out to towards the shadow only to feel his wrist restrained,
"Easy man. No need for anger, was an honest mistake."
For a moment the realisation that he was no longer alone blinded him to the meaning of the words, then understanding dawned, Jones made no mistake so if mistakes had been made then this was not the locker. Warily he opened his eyes only to close them on a wave of pain, but he had seen enough, for one of the faces staring down at him was that of Gibbs. Memory came back and he looked around him again, eyes narrowed against a suddenly recalled outrage as much as the pain,
"You hit me!"

***

The argument about the Kraken lasted long enough to take them out of sight of the fires and the men clustered around them. The speculation about Barbossa's strange behaviour took them to the headland, and their plans for when they found Jack Sparrow took them towards the next bay.

"Where do you think he's gone then?" Raggetti asked as they scrambled over the carpet of rocks littering this part of the beach.
"Don't know. Never a man to do what you expect is Captain Jack." Pintel responded, frowning in fury as his foot slid on a particularly treacherous skin of weed and ended up in a small rock pool.
Raggetti nodded,
"'Tis true that is. Always thought he'd do what was best for him, but he didn't at the end. Unsettling that is."
Pintel grabbed hold of his friend's arm and shook his dripping foot in disgust,
"That were poppet and William's fault. Captain Jack, he never seemed to able to be a real pirate when they were about."
Raggetti appeared to think about that for a moment, then he shook his head,
"Gave Will to Davy Jones though."
"Not for real he didn't, tried to get him back didn't he?" Pintel put his foot down gingerly then frowned out towards the horizon, "never seemed happy with that choice. Barbossa now, he wouldn't have given it a moments more thought. Not then," he shrugged, "no sayin' what he'd do now."
He pitched a casual rock at a wandering crab that seemed to be looking at them, and was glad he missed as he remembered the sea goddess and her familiars. They resumed their clambering.

As they rounded the headland Raggetti stopped so suddenly that Pintel, being careful to avoid another soaked foot or the nip of an irritated crab familiar, collided with him . He opened his mouth to shout but changed his mind as his eyes followed Raggetti's pointing finger to the ship that was sailing out across the bay and towards the next curtain of rock. Pintel drew in a ragged breath as he met Raggetti's startled eye then they both turned back to stare at a sight near as strange as any they had encountered. Eyes narrowed against the bright backdrop of the sky, they scanned the white hull and billowing sail with experienced eyes,
"Stap me," Pintel breathed as they watched it skip across the shallow water, "what be that?"
"Ship."
He drew a deep and exasperated breath but his eyes didn't leave the unknown ship,
"I can see that," he growled, "fine looking vessel it be too, but neither pirate nor Navy mark my words. So what is it?"
"Fast whatever it is."
For a moment they both watched it as it surged across the waters, sails trim and elegant in the rising wind. Both noted the absence of men in the rigging but determinedly ignored the observation.
"Aye it looks to be." Pintel felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, "the Dutchman do ye think?"
Raggetti shook his head,
"Dutchman doesn't sail livin' waters any more." He narrowed his eyes in consideration, "Dutchman's bigger," he said eventually, "anyways no reason why it should look like that."
"Aye." Pintel wasn't reassured but he wasn't about to say so. "Calypso then?"
"Don't see no crabs. Anyways, why'd she be neein' a ship at all?"
"True enough, but who else would be sailin' hereabouts in a ship that don't look right?"
They fell silent for a moment thinking about that, then looked at each other with raised brows,
"Captain Jack!" they said together and without another word turned back towards the shore party.

***

Jack had known better days, had known better years now he came to think of it. But then he had also known worse, and for that reason alone he was holding on to his temper with the same resolution that he was holding on to the rum bottle, one little slip and both were liable to get away from him to no good outcome. Outside the storm was still letting rip and Jack knew and understood its mood well.

It helped a little that Gibbs was looking every bit as bad as he was feeling, though not much. Jack couldn't see the state of his own face but it couldn't be worse than Gibbs, for the man looked as if he had argued over sty rights with a particularly belligerent pig. Blood still stained his whiskers and his cheek bone sported a fine crop of red and purple, his eye was swollen and darkening to black and the grizzled hair falling over his brow didn't hide the swelling or the graze that puckered his brow. A grubby rag was tied cross ways around his head its edges stiffened with more blood and dirt. No Gibbs had certainly known better days.

That did not change the fact that the man had hit him, or if he hadn't then he had set him up to be hit, neither of which was friendly given that Jack had come looking to save him from just such injuries. Well it was one reason he had come looking for him at least.
"I'm sorry Jack, I wasn't quite in my right mind if you take my meanin'"
"Don't rightly know that I do mate." Jack ground out as another shaft of pain pushed its way through his skull.
"Well I was a bit groggy you might say, and not seein' clearly. Too many people askin' questions about me for my likin' even afore I got ambushed, askin' about you too."
"So I heard from your friend in the smoke huts."
"Abel. Ay I thought you'd find him or that he'd find you and I set him to warn you. Good man Abel, for all he's a mite addled by the fish smoke."
"So you knew I'd come looking here. Why then did you hit me?"
"Aye, I hoped you'd come, but as I said, I was befuddled."
Jack squinted across at him noticing for the first time that the bits of him that were not bruised were pale,
"Thought I told you to be careful."
"Aye and that I were. T'were all goin' nicely to plan until this third party turned up and started flashing coin around. Then the Pearl came back and Barbossa set his dogs askin' questions. Seems he thought you might have been caught by the Navy, that idea seemed to stir them up somthin' wicked."
Jack grimaced and took another swig of rum, none of this was sounding good.
"And? Why would Barbossa think that?" he prompted.
Gibbs shrugged
"No sayin' since he didn't come ashore himself, nor dock the Pearl, they came ashore in a boat and I thought that a mite strange so I set to watchin' her from the flats. Then she left again. Thought that was it done. Was on my way back to the chandlers when I got set upon, not sure who by. Sampson here and his pot man were about and came to my aid, thrashed the lights out of whoever it were and brought me back here. Head all swim it were and I've bin sleepin' nigh on ever since. Came to meself not long a'fore you arrived and was dozin' agin behind them bales when you arrived. All I saw was shadow askin' questions of the lass."

Jack sighed and took another swig of his rum,
"Fine mess this is. That Polly of yours will have me blood, and our fellow captain might well decide to up anchor and leave us to it."
He looked across at the white haired man who'd provided the rum and sent the girl about her business when he had first come to.
"What's your part in this?"
The man looked at him for a moment in silence then at a nod from Gibbs he shrugged,
"Josh and me go way back, navy days and before. I'd not stand by and see him so inconvenienced. He'll see me right when he can, and I trust him when he says that you will too."
Jack looked at him for a moment then nodded,
"Good man. More rum would be a start. Might soften this hammer in me head."
The landlord exchanged a look with Gibbs, then rose with a nod and left. Jack got up, swaying for a moment, then he went and stood beside the open door, watching the rain falling like Elanor's waterfall; when he was sure that the man was out of earshot he turned and looked towards Gibbs with a frown,
" So what do we know about this third part that's so interested in me doins'?"

Gibbs took a swallow of rum and shrugged,
"Little enough. He arrived here bout three days ago, day afore the Pearl, and he must have come from inland because no ship put in for him to have come ashore from. He's three others with him, though 'tis not clear if he picked them up here or brought them here. Seems mightily eager to find you, though not so eager to say why. Tells a lot of stories, claims to know you but won't say how."
Jack started to nod then thought better of it,
"Well if it's the gent I saw down near the smoke shed then his claim to acquaintance is a little weak, though I've met him right enough." He shot Gibbs a hard look despite the pain it stirred behind his eyes, "and not in auspicious circumstances. If it's the man I think it is then he's been known to keep some very undesirable company."
"Do he now? Who might that undesirable party be?"
Jack looked back towards the inn but the alley was empty, the landlord was still elsewhere, he took another swig of rum before he answered,
"Beckett. Well, Beckett second, the late lamented Commodore to begin with."
There was a sound of spluttering, and Jack turned to look at Gibbs with a half smile.
"Norrington and Beckett are ye sure?" Gibbs was wide eyed with shock, for he had never thought to hear those names again.
Jack's eyes returned to the alley, fingers playing thoughtfully with a bead in his beard is mind going back over events he knew that he would rather forget,
"Ay. Sure enough. Saw him on the Dauntless when we went after Barbossa, all shiny wig and polished braid, he was, Navy through and through. Didn't seem to be the flog and hanging type though, got more than one sympathetic look from him truth be told. But he was there with Beckett on the Endeavour when Sao Feng so kindly arranged that visit to me old friend, all tricked out in a new and fancy company uniform but it was the same man. Not sure of his name though, Greaves, or Graves or some such I think."

Gibbs frowned in surprise,
"Navy man then?"
"Would seem so, was then at least; which makes his presence in Tortuga all the more interesting wouldn't you say?"
"Aye that I would."
"Wonder what it was that he wanted me for."
Gibbs snorted,
"Tis clear enough to me, to take up where Norrington left off. Make his name in hanging ye."
Jack frowned into the darkness,
"Maybe, then again maybe not. Navy man is here and Barbossa comes back thinking that the navy might have taken me? Co-incidence or not?"
Gibbs considered that,
"I'd say not."
"Yet how would Barbossa know? Unless he's had a run in with the Navy, and it put them into his mind."
"Or someone else did."
Jack nodded slowly,
"Or someone else did. More than possible, though less than clear why she should."
He stretched his stiff neck and sighed,
"But then little of this is clear." he muttered too low for Gibbs to hear.

There was a sound of splashing and the outline of the landlord appeared through the rain, Jack turned and went back to his seat on the straw bales, he waved the bottle in Gibbs direction,
"That can wait. Third party is gone and Elanor may be waiting. Time to think about getting back to meet her. We've an appointment with a fountain to keep."

***

The Navy ship, if that was what it had been, was gone by the time the Dawn Chaser arrived back at the entrance to their target bay on Tortuga. The scanners told them that its course was probably Jamaica but no more than that. Not that Elanor cared, just that they were gone and far enough for her not to need to worry about being sighted.

The worst of the storm was over now, at least here, and the winds had veered west leaving this bay choppy but nothing that presented any problems; her only real concern was that fishing boats might be putting to sea now that things were calmer. Jack had told her that this was not a bay frequented by fishing vessels because the currents tended to draw the shoals further west towards the main port and the cliffs made landing a catch here a wearying business. While she was sure that he knew his business she was still uneasy being this close to inhabited land, though there was another storm at their back and that might keep people occupied.

It had been early evening when they dropped anchor and she had not expected any sign of Jack or Gibbs, but as the night crawled by it was clear that no signal was coming.
"So what do I do now?" she demanded of Ariadne.
"I cannot make that decision. Captain Sparrow would look for us if he were here to do so and therefore it seems clear that he is not here. The options are straightforward, either we leave and abandon him and his quest or we wait until tomorrow and see if he seeks us then, or you must risk going ashore and discovering why he is not here and if he is expected to return."
Elanor sighed,
"In other words, crunch time."
"You could put it that way. Certainly we have reached a point where you must decide how much trust you intend to put in Captain Sparrow and how much you are committed to this search of his."
"If I abandon him what else do I do?"
"That is a separate but related issue. If you leave him here then you must survive alone in this place until we can escape it. All the earlier considerations we discussed still hold true if that is your choice, for practical purposes we know little about this time and we cannot even be sure that it is a direct forerunner of our own. If it is not then the history banks may prove to be misleading or worse, and we have not learned enough to reduce that possibility to any great degree. Captain Sparrow has the advantage of knowing this world intimately and being very practised at surviving within it. On the other hand he appears to be a risk taker,seems to be driven by his recent experiences, whatever they may have been, and he understands little of the consequences of us being found and possibly does not care. That brings its own dangers. Leave him and we may die, or worse, as a result. But go after him and the same may follow."

"Analysis of the relative outcomes Ariadne?"
"It depends upon how careful you are in finding him and the degree to which you are willing to restrain him if you find him and he stays aboard."
"I see." She replied wearily,
"That does not factor in your emotional reaction to leaving him of course," Ariadne went on blandly, " nor your reaction to the loss of the one person who may understand the pressures you are facing, and will face for as long as we remain here. While I can assist with the stresses you faced on the original voyage this situation has passed well beyond that and I can no longer consider myself competent to be the only balancing factor."
Elanor thought about that for a moment.
"I hadn't considered that, but you are right of course. The guardianship of my sanity has passed beyond anything that was envisaged when I began this." She gave a mirthless laugh, "seems I really do need Jack as much as he needs me. Just don't ever let him discover that. So I go looking for him?"
"That is your decision, however I can take care of the ship and make sure it is undiscovered provided that you are not away too long."
She rubbed her head wearily,
"Very well, so I go and find out what the hell is going on. But I'm still not climbing those cliffs. Find that path Ariadne, and let me know how soon I can get at it."