"Contradictions 7 - Freed" Part 2
Jul. 7th, 2005 01:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veronica_richThis is a continuation of a fic. See Part 1 for disclaimers, description, etc.
He snapped his spyglass shut. “Let’s pull ‘er over,” he decided, pocketing the glass.
“Can I ask why?”
“I s’pose you can try, but you’re not likely t’ get an answer,” Jack snapped back.
“I’m the First Mate. I have that right.”
Jack turned to look Anamaria in her pretty brown eyes. “Ability and action are often not on and th’ same,” he pointed out, an edge to his voice. “I’m of a mood. Notify th’ crew to ready.”
He thought he caught her stopping just short of rolling her eyes, but said nothing. He knew he was being a rot, but the hell of it was, he didn’t properly care. He’d been in control of so little for so long on his and Will’s little land-based adventure, and then under Francois’s oily thumb for enough time that every fighting instinct he had was roiling right now. They’d only captured a couple of prizes these past weeks since he’d been back at the Pearl’s helm, and he itched to fire, swing over, stomp around a bit, scare people into submission rather than being the helpless party for a change.
Several minutes later, he glimpsed in his peripheral vision the improbable event of Will Turner taking steps toward the helm. He was most probably annoyed, judging by his abnormally heavy footfall. Well, what else was new?
He ignored the presence not too far behind his back as he pretended to examine the logbook beyond the time he needed. Finally, a clearing of the throat and a solemn, “Captain.” He continued to ignore, until he heard a sigh, and a sharper, “Captain Sparrow!”
Jack turned, eyes cool, lips thin. “Mr. Turner?”
He was visibly grinding his jaw, put out enough to have to actually speak to Jack without the captain first prodding him. Good; Jack took a wicked satisfaction in making Will uncomfortable. “With all due respect, this raid may be an ill-advised venture.”
“You have no due respect.” Jack nearly smirked at the way the smith’s eyes flashed. “As for th’ rest of it, kindly leave the captaining of this vessel t’ me.”
Will dropped his voice, hissing. “Jack, you’re being an arse. Stop it.”
“With all due respect, son, you need t’ learn better manners with your elders.” It was Jack’s turn to narrow nearly-black eyes and adopt an edge of a snarl. “I’ve been doin’ this since before your da took a twinkle in his eye for your mum, so don’ presume to tell me what I ought an’ ought not to do.”
He saw Will’s fists curl at his sides, but the younger man closed his eyes and appeared to be letting at least some of the hostility drain from his muscles. “It’s not right, Jack. It’s a small merchant ship. Probably a family, makes their living off ferrying valuables back and forth-“
“Then this’ll teach them t’ be better armed before they run into some bastard who really means them harm,” Jack interrupted. “What part of piracy don’ you understand? We attack, we raid and pilfer, an’ take our hearts’ desire. Last I checked, ye signed th’ same Articles as ever’one else on Pearl, an’ now you’re quibbling?”
“I’m not the only one who thinks this way!” Will burst out, eyes open and hostile.
“Mutiny?” Jack lifted a brow. “I don’ think so, son. Try that little trick, an’ I’ll dump your arse off to th’ sharks faster than ye can brandish one o’ your little daggers. I don’ take kindly to bein’ cuckolded twice.”
Will shook his head, expression fierce and slightly pitying. “You’ve changed, Jack. I didn’t do anything to you of any harm in front of the Commodore, nothing that would’ve warranted such a reaction a few months ago, and you were completely unreasonable. You’re still being unreasonable, but now there’s probably innocent people’s lives at stake!”
Jack felt his face harden. “Get away from my helm,” he growled.
“If you’re angry with me, then take it out on me.” Will dropped his voice.
“Why? So you can ignore me some more?” The moment he said it, he wished he hadn’t; the words gave too much away. Will blinked, trying to assimilate, and Jack waved a bejeweled hand, turning aside. “Go away.”
“Is that-“
“I said get th’ fuck away!” Jack nearly spat.
Will drew back as though he’d been slapped, but slowly, hideously slow. The expression on his face chilled Jack, but he said no more, instead turning and heading back down to the main deck, shoulders stiff, spine straight.
Jack set his jaw, staring back out at the small ship. Truthfully, there was a deep part that hated what he was planning. That conscience had once run things for him, until it had failed him horribly with Barbossa and his mutinous crew – Jack had punished that part by shoving it down and only lending an ear when the whim suited him. The whim didn’t suit today, and Will hadn’t helped matters. He touched the worn, almost glass-smooth wood of the helm. His ship understood; she wouldn’t chastise. She knew what he did, accepted him for it.
Except … she wasn’t talking to him right now.
It was curious, that. She’d been content enough when he’d stepped aboard, fished through his mind, happily reacquainting herself with her captain much the way a favored dog leaps all over its master after being parted for a long time. When she started asking about Will, though, and Jack had drawn back, refusing to explain his rage, she’d apparently taken it as cue she wasn’t allowed to ask anything. This was just dandy – he’d given up what little virtue and self-respect he’d had to Francois to protect a man clearly contemptuous of him and his authority, and now the ship he’d worked so hard to return to had basically turned her prow up at him. Jack was just grateful he was no longer married so that at least Esther continued to communicate with him, even if it was by letters.
Per Jack’s orders, someone from the gunwale fired a warning cannon over the smaller vessel. The Green Dale proved relatively easy to board, her crew properly submissive. It made Jack cranky; he rarely trusted when things were so easy. Besides, he was spoiling for a fight and hoped to find more amusing fare than what amounted to a couple of families and minimal crew apparently relocating across the sea. He ordered the women take the few children below (after parting with their lovely finger-trinkets and other jewels, of course – normally he left the ladies their wedding bands, but he was in that shitty a mood today), and at one point, caught Will out of the corner of his eye. The blacksmith kept his usual post just behind and to the side of Jack, sword drawn and wary of potential danger, but his expression was grim and disapproving of his captain.
He’d lined up the men, harangued them, wheedled a couple while his boarding party searched the ship. Hell, he’d even found out where they were going so he could leave them enough victuals to reach their destination without starving. Not as complete a villain as he would’ve liked, then.
Jack made sure his crew were heading back to the ship with their last load before bowing toward the menfolk, never dipping his head, keeping his eyes on them, and straightened. “This is the day,” he proclaimed, raising his voice as usual with his trademark, “you will always remember ye were graced by th’ presence of Captain Jack-“
And then it happened. One of the older men, perhaps a grandfather – certainly not a member of the crew, by the lack of a sufficient tan or burn – lunged at Jack’s side. The pirate didn’t have the time to process the odd expression on his face, wonder at the “NO!” the old man hollered. One second Jack was in danger; the next, he’d drawn his pistol and fired into the man’s shoulder, felling him to his knees.
One of the young men, perhaps a little older than Turner, went to a knee beside the old man, grabbing his arms to keep him from slumping over, and aimed a hateful expression at Jack. “You blackguard!” he yelled. “He’s an old man! He was only trying to keep his granddaughter safe!”
Jack’s brow furrowed angrily, but he was interrupted by someone tugging forcibly at the back of his coat sleeve. “Over here!” Will’s voice insisted, low and urgent.
The captain glanced behind him, where a young woman knelt, her arms wrapped around a little girl of maybe two or three. Only now did Jack register the sound of the woman nattering nonsense to calm the child, who was crying, fighting her caretaker, reaching out for the thirty feet or so that separated her from the old man.
He’d been captured by more navies than anyone usually ever got to see in a lifetime, been on the scaffolds twice, locked up multiple times, marooned, and shot – but for the first time since he was a neophyte to the sea, Jack had absolutely no idea what to do. He’d always remained very careful about how he conducted himself, his raids, even going so far as to drill his crew in proper behavior and punishing or putting them off if they violated his edicts and Articles.
Goddammit! He’d thought the old man was trying to attack, to knock him down or had a hidden blade, or was planning to rob one of Jack’s own weapons off his person! Why did the girl have to be so bloody quiet? Why hadn’t she been kept below?
The anger gave Jack an anchor, something to hold to and around which to manufacture actions and decisions. “Get her out o’ here!” he barked at the woman, pointing at the girl. Unfortunately, he was still wielding his pistol. It had the desired effect of sending girl and woman below without question, but he hastily jammed it back into his sash, cursing himself for not doing so before giving the order. Jack Sparrow had not made his reputation terrorizing women and helpless children, or shooting old men.
He spun to face the few of his crew still on board. “Go get Benjamin!” he ordered Jonathan, one of the dark-skinned twins. The lad dipped his head in acknowledgement and headed off to Pearl for her resident physic. He motioned Jim, Jonathan’s twin, over while speaking to Will. “Keep a guard.” Turner didn’t move, didn’t put his sword away or lower his guard, but kept his eyes narrowed at Jack. It wasn’t difficult to divine his angry thoughts.
Jack and Jim forcibly shooed away the younger man from the older, who was paler than he’d been, but still upright on his knees. “Lie back,” Jack growled, reaching up to yank off his headscarf. He bunched and pressed the dirty red silk to the wound. It’d been one bullet, not close to the heart (and on the wrong side of the body, thank fate), so Jack held out hope for a full recovery. The biggest problem was going to be possibility of infection, for which Jack had no easy answers. He hoped to God or Whomever Benjamin had something in his paltry supply to paste it up and keep out the nasties.
The old man closed his eyes, then fluttered them open to look up at the two pirates attending him. “Can’t be dead,” he croaked, blinking rapidly.
“Aye, th’ angels are prettier than th’ likes of us,” Jack replied. He made sure he had the man’s attention, then leaned closer and dropped his voice. “’Twasn’t my intention t’ harm any of ye,” he tried to explain without looking soft in front of his crew. “I’ve ne’er yet taken delight in th’ death of the old or infirm. But why th’ bloody hell didn’ ye just say somethin’?”
More blinking. “You’re a pirate, aren’t you?” Jack glanced at Jim, and nodded. The man’s pale green eyes reflected incomprehension. “That’s what you do, kill people. My life matters less than Ellie’s.”
Jack leaned back on his heels, briefly squeezing his eyes shut. “Not all pirates,” he answered. “’S why I sent th’ children below with th’ womenfolk.”
The younger man who’d attended the old man scoffed. “As if it matters!” he snapped, apparently feeling brave before a man who’d apologized for shooting. “You’d probably just have killed us and defiled them afterwards!”
The part of Jack that was still holding onto some residual anger at the world at large made him level black eyes at the fellow as he slowly climbed to his booted feet. “We’re not off here yet,” he warned in a cold, cold tone of voice. “And seein’ as we’re armed and you are not, I’d be ver’ careful about what I said t’ me right now. Savvy?”
That shut the fellow up, though he looked no happier. Fine; Jack had no interest in controlling what people thought, so long as their actions matched what he wanted done. He caught sight of Benjamin climbing up over the rail with Jonathan, and stepped back to give the older pirate plenty of room to examine Jack’s victim. “What’s your name, old fellow?” Jack directed at the prone man.
“Arnett,” he coughed. “Silas Arnett.”
“Well, Mr. Arnett, Benjamin here’s lots of experience patchin’ up citizens from all walks o’ life. I daresay he’ll slather somethin’ on your wound that’ll make ye wish ye’d just gone on an’ perished instead.”
As one old man set to work on the other, Jack turned to face Will and cut his eyes off to the side. “A word,” he commanded, leading the way to the rail. When they were far enough from Silas and his caretakers, Jack stopped and crossed his arms. “Well, go on, then.”
“Go where?”
Jack scowled. “Don’ be disingenuous, Mr. Turner. I wasn’ born yesterday an’ neither were you.”
The lad’s nostrils flared, and Jack thought him a very pretty racehorse for it. Well, maybe a good ride, anyway. The unbidden dirty thought almost made him smile, but the situation was all wrong for the urge to last. “He could die,” Will said – and no more.
“I’m well aware,” Jack replied, all seriousness. “Any suggestions?”
“You’re asking for my opinion? Special day.” The tone, while curious, still made it clear such opinion would include disposal of Jack himself over the side of the ship.
“I can leave them here an’ let them find their own way to port,” Jack explained patiently, not really feeling it, “or I can provide some sort of escort in range of land.” Off Will’s raised eyebrow, he added, “I didn’ get where I am by shooting old folks, William. I’ve no desire t’ be talked about as such, either by me own crew or someone else’s.”
A strange expression flickered across Will’s face, interrupting the disdain momentarily. “If candor’s what you want, then I think you should give them an escort. You should also give them their possessions back.” Jack pulled a face. “Well, at least the ladies their rings and such.” Jack didn’t change his expression, and Will tightened his jaw. “That gold actually means something to them, Jack; it’s not swag.”
He sighed. Bill, I’d love to know how this one came from your issue. He’s far more honest than you and your late missus both put together. He would’ve wondered at Will’s parentage if the fellow hadn’t looked so damned much like his da, and hadn’t possessed his mum’s deep amber eyes. Jack said nothing, turning to catch the twins’ attention and motion them over. He pitched his voice low as he addressed them. “If I give ye coordinates to where th’ Pearl’s makin’ landfall and put ye an’ Benjamin on this tub to guide these people to safe port, you two think ye can get there afterward without bringin’ unwelcome company?”
Jim and Jonathan glanced at one another and nodded; they understood the reference to Navy. Jack didn’t mind if they caught a ride with some passing merchant vessel or transport, since San Rafe was, after all, hardly secluded or illegal. Besides, Pearl had a pretty little hiding place tucked into a cliff on the side of the island away from most traffic.
“Be off with ye, then.” Jack waved dismissively. “We’ll be settin’ sail in less than an hour.” Once they were gone, he glanced at Will. “Satisfied?”
Will arched a brow and cast his eyes down to rearrange his sword belt, tone casual. “Why do you care?” He didn’t wait for an answer, to Jack’s relief, but moved off toward the plank balanced across both ships’ rails to cross back to Pearl.
*****
Part 3 ...
He snapped his spyglass shut. “Let’s pull ‘er over,” he decided, pocketing the glass.
“Can I ask why?”
“I s’pose you can try, but you’re not likely t’ get an answer,” Jack snapped back.
“I’m the First Mate. I have that right.”
Jack turned to look Anamaria in her pretty brown eyes. “Ability and action are often not on and th’ same,” he pointed out, an edge to his voice. “I’m of a mood. Notify th’ crew to ready.”
He thought he caught her stopping just short of rolling her eyes, but said nothing. He knew he was being a rot, but the hell of it was, he didn’t properly care. He’d been in control of so little for so long on his and Will’s little land-based adventure, and then under Francois’s oily thumb for enough time that every fighting instinct he had was roiling right now. They’d only captured a couple of prizes these past weeks since he’d been back at the Pearl’s helm, and he itched to fire, swing over, stomp around a bit, scare people into submission rather than being the helpless party for a change.
Several minutes later, he glimpsed in his peripheral vision the improbable event of Will Turner taking steps toward the helm. He was most probably annoyed, judging by his abnormally heavy footfall. Well, what else was new?
He ignored the presence not too far behind his back as he pretended to examine the logbook beyond the time he needed. Finally, a clearing of the throat and a solemn, “Captain.” He continued to ignore, until he heard a sigh, and a sharper, “Captain Sparrow!”
Jack turned, eyes cool, lips thin. “Mr. Turner?”
He was visibly grinding his jaw, put out enough to have to actually speak to Jack without the captain first prodding him. Good; Jack took a wicked satisfaction in making Will uncomfortable. “With all due respect, this raid may be an ill-advised venture.”
“You have no due respect.” Jack nearly smirked at the way the smith’s eyes flashed. “As for th’ rest of it, kindly leave the captaining of this vessel t’ me.”
Will dropped his voice, hissing. “Jack, you’re being an arse. Stop it.”
“With all due respect, son, you need t’ learn better manners with your elders.” It was Jack’s turn to narrow nearly-black eyes and adopt an edge of a snarl. “I’ve been doin’ this since before your da took a twinkle in his eye for your mum, so don’ presume to tell me what I ought an’ ought not to do.”
He saw Will’s fists curl at his sides, but the younger man closed his eyes and appeared to be letting at least some of the hostility drain from his muscles. “It’s not right, Jack. It’s a small merchant ship. Probably a family, makes their living off ferrying valuables back and forth-“
“Then this’ll teach them t’ be better armed before they run into some bastard who really means them harm,” Jack interrupted. “What part of piracy don’ you understand? We attack, we raid and pilfer, an’ take our hearts’ desire. Last I checked, ye signed th’ same Articles as ever’one else on Pearl, an’ now you’re quibbling?”
“I’m not the only one who thinks this way!” Will burst out, eyes open and hostile.
“Mutiny?” Jack lifted a brow. “I don’ think so, son. Try that little trick, an’ I’ll dump your arse off to th’ sharks faster than ye can brandish one o’ your little daggers. I don’ take kindly to bein’ cuckolded twice.”
Will shook his head, expression fierce and slightly pitying. “You’ve changed, Jack. I didn’t do anything to you of any harm in front of the Commodore, nothing that would’ve warranted such a reaction a few months ago, and you were completely unreasonable. You’re still being unreasonable, but now there’s probably innocent people’s lives at stake!”
Jack felt his face harden. “Get away from my helm,” he growled.
“If you’re angry with me, then take it out on me.” Will dropped his voice.
“Why? So you can ignore me some more?” The moment he said it, he wished he hadn’t; the words gave too much away. Will blinked, trying to assimilate, and Jack waved a bejeweled hand, turning aside. “Go away.”
“Is that-“
“I said get th’ fuck away!” Jack nearly spat.
Will drew back as though he’d been slapped, but slowly, hideously slow. The expression on his face chilled Jack, but he said no more, instead turning and heading back down to the main deck, shoulders stiff, spine straight.
Jack set his jaw, staring back out at the small ship. Truthfully, there was a deep part that hated what he was planning. That conscience had once run things for him, until it had failed him horribly with Barbossa and his mutinous crew – Jack had punished that part by shoving it down and only lending an ear when the whim suited him. The whim didn’t suit today, and Will hadn’t helped matters. He touched the worn, almost glass-smooth wood of the helm. His ship understood; she wouldn’t chastise. She knew what he did, accepted him for it.
Except … she wasn’t talking to him right now.
It was curious, that. She’d been content enough when he’d stepped aboard, fished through his mind, happily reacquainting herself with her captain much the way a favored dog leaps all over its master after being parted for a long time. When she started asking about Will, though, and Jack had drawn back, refusing to explain his rage, she’d apparently taken it as cue she wasn’t allowed to ask anything. This was just dandy – he’d given up what little virtue and self-respect he’d had to Francois to protect a man clearly contemptuous of him and his authority, and now the ship he’d worked so hard to return to had basically turned her prow up at him. Jack was just grateful he was no longer married so that at least Esther continued to communicate with him, even if it was by letters.
Per Jack’s orders, someone from the gunwale fired a warning cannon over the smaller vessel. The Green Dale proved relatively easy to board, her crew properly submissive. It made Jack cranky; he rarely trusted when things were so easy. Besides, he was spoiling for a fight and hoped to find more amusing fare than what amounted to a couple of families and minimal crew apparently relocating across the sea. He ordered the women take the few children below (after parting with their lovely finger-trinkets and other jewels, of course – normally he left the ladies their wedding bands, but he was in that shitty a mood today), and at one point, caught Will out of the corner of his eye. The blacksmith kept his usual post just behind and to the side of Jack, sword drawn and wary of potential danger, but his expression was grim and disapproving of his captain.
He’d lined up the men, harangued them, wheedled a couple while his boarding party searched the ship. Hell, he’d even found out where they were going so he could leave them enough victuals to reach their destination without starving. Not as complete a villain as he would’ve liked, then.
Jack made sure his crew were heading back to the ship with their last load before bowing toward the menfolk, never dipping his head, keeping his eyes on them, and straightened. “This is the day,” he proclaimed, raising his voice as usual with his trademark, “you will always remember ye were graced by th’ presence of Captain Jack-“
And then it happened. One of the older men, perhaps a grandfather – certainly not a member of the crew, by the lack of a sufficient tan or burn – lunged at Jack’s side. The pirate didn’t have the time to process the odd expression on his face, wonder at the “NO!” the old man hollered. One second Jack was in danger; the next, he’d drawn his pistol and fired into the man’s shoulder, felling him to his knees.
One of the young men, perhaps a little older than Turner, went to a knee beside the old man, grabbing his arms to keep him from slumping over, and aimed a hateful expression at Jack. “You blackguard!” he yelled. “He’s an old man! He was only trying to keep his granddaughter safe!”
Jack’s brow furrowed angrily, but he was interrupted by someone tugging forcibly at the back of his coat sleeve. “Over here!” Will’s voice insisted, low and urgent.
The captain glanced behind him, where a young woman knelt, her arms wrapped around a little girl of maybe two or three. Only now did Jack register the sound of the woman nattering nonsense to calm the child, who was crying, fighting her caretaker, reaching out for the thirty feet or so that separated her from the old man.
He’d been captured by more navies than anyone usually ever got to see in a lifetime, been on the scaffolds twice, locked up multiple times, marooned, and shot – but for the first time since he was a neophyte to the sea, Jack had absolutely no idea what to do. He’d always remained very careful about how he conducted himself, his raids, even going so far as to drill his crew in proper behavior and punishing or putting them off if they violated his edicts and Articles.
Goddammit! He’d thought the old man was trying to attack, to knock him down or had a hidden blade, or was planning to rob one of Jack’s own weapons off his person! Why did the girl have to be so bloody quiet? Why hadn’t she been kept below?
The anger gave Jack an anchor, something to hold to and around which to manufacture actions and decisions. “Get her out o’ here!” he barked at the woman, pointing at the girl. Unfortunately, he was still wielding his pistol. It had the desired effect of sending girl and woman below without question, but he hastily jammed it back into his sash, cursing himself for not doing so before giving the order. Jack Sparrow had not made his reputation terrorizing women and helpless children, or shooting old men.
He spun to face the few of his crew still on board. “Go get Benjamin!” he ordered Jonathan, one of the dark-skinned twins. The lad dipped his head in acknowledgement and headed off to Pearl for her resident physic. He motioned Jim, Jonathan’s twin, over while speaking to Will. “Keep a guard.” Turner didn’t move, didn’t put his sword away or lower his guard, but kept his eyes narrowed at Jack. It wasn’t difficult to divine his angry thoughts.
Jack and Jim forcibly shooed away the younger man from the older, who was paler than he’d been, but still upright on his knees. “Lie back,” Jack growled, reaching up to yank off his headscarf. He bunched and pressed the dirty red silk to the wound. It’d been one bullet, not close to the heart (and on the wrong side of the body, thank fate), so Jack held out hope for a full recovery. The biggest problem was going to be possibility of infection, for which Jack had no easy answers. He hoped to God or Whomever Benjamin had something in his paltry supply to paste it up and keep out the nasties.
The old man closed his eyes, then fluttered them open to look up at the two pirates attending him. “Can’t be dead,” he croaked, blinking rapidly.
“Aye, th’ angels are prettier than th’ likes of us,” Jack replied. He made sure he had the man’s attention, then leaned closer and dropped his voice. “’Twasn’t my intention t’ harm any of ye,” he tried to explain without looking soft in front of his crew. “I’ve ne’er yet taken delight in th’ death of the old or infirm. But why th’ bloody hell didn’ ye just say somethin’?”
More blinking. “You’re a pirate, aren’t you?” Jack glanced at Jim, and nodded. The man’s pale green eyes reflected incomprehension. “That’s what you do, kill people. My life matters less than Ellie’s.”
Jack leaned back on his heels, briefly squeezing his eyes shut. “Not all pirates,” he answered. “’S why I sent th’ children below with th’ womenfolk.”
The younger man who’d attended the old man scoffed. “As if it matters!” he snapped, apparently feeling brave before a man who’d apologized for shooting. “You’d probably just have killed us and defiled them afterwards!”
The part of Jack that was still holding onto some residual anger at the world at large made him level black eyes at the fellow as he slowly climbed to his booted feet. “We’re not off here yet,” he warned in a cold, cold tone of voice. “And seein’ as we’re armed and you are not, I’d be ver’ careful about what I said t’ me right now. Savvy?”
That shut the fellow up, though he looked no happier. Fine; Jack had no interest in controlling what people thought, so long as their actions matched what he wanted done. He caught sight of Benjamin climbing up over the rail with Jonathan, and stepped back to give the older pirate plenty of room to examine Jack’s victim. “What’s your name, old fellow?” Jack directed at the prone man.
“Arnett,” he coughed. “Silas Arnett.”
“Well, Mr. Arnett, Benjamin here’s lots of experience patchin’ up citizens from all walks o’ life. I daresay he’ll slather somethin’ on your wound that’ll make ye wish ye’d just gone on an’ perished instead.”
As one old man set to work on the other, Jack turned to face Will and cut his eyes off to the side. “A word,” he commanded, leading the way to the rail. When they were far enough from Silas and his caretakers, Jack stopped and crossed his arms. “Well, go on, then.”
“Go where?”
Jack scowled. “Don’ be disingenuous, Mr. Turner. I wasn’ born yesterday an’ neither were you.”
The lad’s nostrils flared, and Jack thought him a very pretty racehorse for it. Well, maybe a good ride, anyway. The unbidden dirty thought almost made him smile, but the situation was all wrong for the urge to last. “He could die,” Will said – and no more.
“I’m well aware,” Jack replied, all seriousness. “Any suggestions?”
“You’re asking for my opinion? Special day.” The tone, while curious, still made it clear such opinion would include disposal of Jack himself over the side of the ship.
“I can leave them here an’ let them find their own way to port,” Jack explained patiently, not really feeling it, “or I can provide some sort of escort in range of land.” Off Will’s raised eyebrow, he added, “I didn’ get where I am by shooting old folks, William. I’ve no desire t’ be talked about as such, either by me own crew or someone else’s.”
A strange expression flickered across Will’s face, interrupting the disdain momentarily. “If candor’s what you want, then I think you should give them an escort. You should also give them their possessions back.” Jack pulled a face. “Well, at least the ladies their rings and such.” Jack didn’t change his expression, and Will tightened his jaw. “That gold actually means something to them, Jack; it’s not swag.”
He sighed. Bill, I’d love to know how this one came from your issue. He’s far more honest than you and your late missus both put together. He would’ve wondered at Will’s parentage if the fellow hadn’t looked so damned much like his da, and hadn’t possessed his mum’s deep amber eyes. Jack said nothing, turning to catch the twins’ attention and motion them over. He pitched his voice low as he addressed them. “If I give ye coordinates to where th’ Pearl’s makin’ landfall and put ye an’ Benjamin on this tub to guide these people to safe port, you two think ye can get there afterward without bringin’ unwelcome company?”
Jim and Jonathan glanced at one another and nodded; they understood the reference to Navy. Jack didn’t mind if they caught a ride with some passing merchant vessel or transport, since San Rafe was, after all, hardly secluded or illegal. Besides, Pearl had a pretty little hiding place tucked into a cliff on the side of the island away from most traffic.
“Be off with ye, then.” Jack waved dismissively. “We’ll be settin’ sail in less than an hour.” Once they were gone, he glanced at Will. “Satisfied?”
Will arched a brow and cast his eyes down to rearrange his sword belt, tone casual. “Why do you care?” He didn’t wait for an answer, to Jack’s relief, but moved off toward the plank balanced across both ships’ rails to cross back to Pearl.
*****
Part 3 ...
