Chapter Six

We're rascals, scoundrels, villains and knaves. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

The Tarantula docked in Santiago de Cuba amid much grumbling from the men. As usual, talk stopped when Will approached, but he heard enough to gather that the crew resented the Commodore sending them there, particularly since they were not to be granted any shore leave. Apparently most of the crew had money in their pockets and were eager to spend it, which surprised Will, since he understood he was not to be paid until his tour of duty ended, and that's how he had always heard that pay was disbursed in the Navy. Captain Stanley seemed to command a high degree of loyalty from his crew, and perhaps he accomplished it by changing some of the Navy's standard operating procedures. That was the only explanation Will could think of.

But, grumbling men or not, no British soldiers or sailors were to have shore leave in this Spanish port. Relations between their two nations were strained, and Stanley would risk neither losing his men to the civil authorities and foreign courts, nor antagonizing the Spanish with a strong military presence. The only men who saw anything beyond the docks were the soldiers who accompanied Captain Stanley on his visit to General Rodriguez.

These men were surrounded by their crewmates and peppered with questions, coarse and ribald, as soon as they were back on deck and released from their shore duty. Will, too, was curious to hear what they had seen in the town, but he kept his distance, knowing from experience that his presence would break up the talk. Too far away to hear much, he still noticed when one of the men who had been ashore slapped the other, playfully, open-palmed. The man who had been slapped reeled around, over-dramatically, and cried "I didn't deserve that!" The crowd of men laughed appreciatively, and the two play-actors grinned at each other, clearly not rancorous.

Will froze, in shock, his thoughts spinning. Then he was pushing his way through the press of men to stand before the one who had done the slapping. "Who . . . What was that? Where did you see that?" he demanded.

The men stood back, scowling at Will, and the man he addressed also gave him an angry look. "What is the problem, Turner?"

"Who said that? Where did you hear it?"

"On the street, just now. The man spoke in English. What's it to you?"

"Was it a woman who slapped him?"

The man nodded, now looking bemused. The others also started to give Will amused glances.

"What did he look like?"

"Why?"

"Just tell me! Did he have beads in his hair and beard? Kohl around his eyes?"

The man looked a little startled and exchanged glances with his comrade. "That's the man," he confirmed.

"Jack Sparrow! That's Jack Sparrow! Where, man? Where was he?"

"By the whorehouses and the money-changers. Just up that street, there." The man pointed, but his expression showed no concern, only skepticism about Will's sanity.

Will bounded away, leaping over hatches and up stairs, to reach the Mate. "Lieutenant! The men saw Sparrow in the town. They didn't know him, but I do. I know it was Sparrow. Let me go into town and look for him!"

The Mate regarded him levelly. "Mr. Turner, you are not, under any circumstances, to leave this ship. Desertion is punishable by death. Do you understand?"

Somewhat taken aback, Will blinked. "Yes, sir. But Sparrow! Don't you care that he's here, in this town? I can identify him."

"If true, it is interesting, to be sure. If the pirate is here, it might explain our missing supplies."

"What?"

"Didn't you hear? Someone stole six of our casks by cutting the dock beneath them and spiriting them away. I believe the Captain intends to mention that to General Rodriguez, as well, while they are talking."

"No sir, I didn't hear. No one tells me anything. Do you need more proof? Let's capture him, before he gets away!"

The Mate looked out to sea with a disinterested shrug. "We have no jurisdiction to pour British soldiers into the streets searching the town. We'd start another war with Spain, right here."

Will couldn't believe how unconcerned the man appeared. "Isn't that what we're here for? To capture Jack Sparrow and stop the Black Pearl's attacks?"

Now the Mate's expression turned dark. He was a big man, and not averse to using his strength to intimidate. He bared his teeth as he said, "You forget yourself, Seaman. You don't lecture me about our mission. I will apprise the captain when he returns. You return to your duties, now, or by God, you will be flogged."

Shocked and furious, Will turned away.

"Mr. Turner," said the Mate.

Will looked back.

The man gave him an evil smile and said, "I wouldn't be so eager to capture Sparrow, if I were you. If we had him, we wouldn't need you anymore."

It was an odd thing to say, and Will didn’t quite know how to take it. Certainly his role as "special advisor" would be unnecessary once Jack was caught. Perhaps that was what the man meant.

Will put thoughts of the Mate out of his mind, and concentrated on Sparrow. For some reason Jack was here, in this town, and he had stolen some of their supplies. Will guessed he planned to provision the Black Pearl with them, which meant the Black Pearl wasn’t far away. If only he had Stanley or the Commodore to talk to!

The thought that Jack could even now be escaping – either by sea or to somewhere else on the long island of Cuba – made Will feel sick with desperation to pursue him. He couldn’t believe his superiors would punish him if he returned with the pirate his prisoner. Or – he forced himself to face squarely this possibility – if he returned with Jack’s corpse.

Dodging the watch commander’s notice, Will ducked into the forecastle and buckled on his sword. Then he slid around the edge of the cabin and threw down the rope ladder. In seconds he was in the murky water of the harbor, a deserter from the Royal Navy.

He swam submerged as far as he could toward the opposite side of the harbor, surfaced once for air, praying he would not be noticed, submerged again, and then climbed out on the bank, just past where the docks ended. He was seen by a couple of dockhands who called to him in Spanish. Will gave them a cheery wave and headed past them, into the town. They looked after him with astonished expressions.

Were this a British port, he reasoned, the brothels and money-houses wouldn’t be far from the docks. And the crewman had pointed up this street ...

Will slowed his pace, the better to study the faces of the men on the street. He didn't have much time to find Sparrow, he guessed, before either the Spanish authorities or his own shipmates would come after him. Where would Jack be? Will had clearly found the vice area of town; brazen whores, their faces veiled but their bosoms all but uncovered, preened outside the brothels. At least one of them must have known Jack, but Will was at a loss as to how to question them. It had been about a half an hour since the crewman had seen a woman here slap Jack.

Will heard singing down an alley. A tavern! He turned down the alley just in time to see his prayers answered. Not only was there a tavern at the end of the alley, its front no doubt opening onto another street, but slipping out its back door, holding two bottles of rum, came Jack Sparrow!

"Jack!" Will called out, involuntarily.

Jack looked up, and the expression of astonishment on his face was almost comical. "Turner?" he asked, incredulously. "You're on that ship?"

Will drew his sword, exulting inside. At last he could atone in some small measure for his poor judgment in trusting a vicious pirate. "I'm taking you in, Jack," he said, advancing.

"Lad," said Jack, as he carefully placed the rum bottles on a low wall and made "you stay here" motions at them, "I'm not the man you want. You can ask your lovely wife."

All his senses on high alert, Will sized the man up. Jack was still damp from a recent swim, though not as wet as was Will. Still, it took gunpowder days to dry in their part of the world, so Will was confident that Jack could not fire his pistol.

Will continued to advance. "How like a pirate to threaten my wife. How many women and children did you kill in George Town, Jack? You butcher! And to think I trusted you!"

Jack had stood his ground, not drawing his sword, but now, apparently convinced of Will's sincerity, he slid his sword free of its sheath and leapt nimbly onto the low wall behind him.

"Will, I can just outrun you," he said, darting glances around at the alley.

"Can you? You've seen how I can throw this sword."

"You'd stab me in the back?" Jack seemed genuinely appalled.

"I wouldn't if you were a 'good man,' but you're not."

Will decided not to waste any more time in talk. He lunged, and Jack parried, but Will had expected Jack's success, seeing as the pirate had a height advantage on the wall, and he used momentum from the parry to try to sweep out Jack's legs.

Jack danced over Will's sword, then beat it aside and stabbed Will's wrist. Will yielded in time to keep the thrust from penetrating, but the pain was so acute he almost released his sword. He backed off a few steps to let his hand recover.

"Listen, Will," said Jack. "That Navy ship you're on has been pretending to be the Pearl. They're the real villains. Haven't you seen anything funny on board? Black sails, at least?"

Will bounded onto the wall, reminding himself that Sparrow might sway and veer drunkenly in his normal course, but in swordplay the pirate was precise, quick, and crafty. "I do not think I ought to listen to you," Will said.

They engaged, as they had once before, on a narrow surface, moving forward and back. On one backward step, Will kicked over a bottle of rum, which tumbled off the wall and broke open upon the cobblestones.

"Ah, see now . . ." complained Jack. Jack ceased his press so Will didn't need to step back again, where the second bottle stood. Will seized his opportunity and renewed his attack, but, to his frustration, Jack parried all his blows.

"Your heart's not in this, lad," Jack said. "Lets have us a drink and talk about this."

For the first time, Will noticed they were drawing a crowd.

Jack, too, became aware of the men and boys sliding into the alley. He said something to the crowd in Spanish and their audience laughed. Will had a strong feeling that Jack had just made another eunuch joke. He lunged again, but Jack jumped off the wall, easily avoiding his blade.

"Will, do ya notice we have company?" he asked. The growing crowd was ringing them and placing bets.

Will followed him off the wall. "I don’t care who catches you," he said, "so long as you're stopped."

"It wasn't me, you bloody fool," Jack said, backpedaling as he parried, and finally sounding like he believed himself to be trapped.

It was that faintly desperate note in Jack's voice that gave Will pause. He stopped advancing and glowered at the pirate, but he allowed the man's words to have meaning for him.

Jack should have taken Will's hesitation as an opportunity and pressed in, but instead he also stopped and regarded his opponent earnestly. The crowd made irritated sounds.

"Who else could it be?" Will asked.

"I'm telling you, it's that ship you're on. Haven't they asked you yet where the Isle de Muerte is?"

This question made no sense to Will, and he told himself sternly to lift his sword and attack again, but some other part of him objected. The part that remembered Captain Jack Sparrow as an ally and a good man. A friend, even.

And then there were voices and tramping feet, and contrary to what Stanley and the Chief Mate had insisted upon, a force of British soldiers came up the street and turned in the alley. The ring of civilians broke and faded before them. To Will's astonishment, rather than seizing Jack, they laid violent hands on Will, and, the Chief Mate commanding them, leveled muskets at him.

Even Jack looked surprised, and then he tried to join the audience of civilians who were fast disappearing from the alley.

Will struggled against the hands holding him. "Sparrow! That's Jack Sparrow!" he yelled.

Almost as an afterthought, the Mate nodded and ordered, "Seize that man!" sending half a dozen red-coated soldiers who grabbed Sparrow before he got very far.

The detachment returned promptly to the docks, accompanied by an equal force of Spanish soldiers that materialized around them and escorted them down the street and to the gangplank of the ship. Will protested his own treatment until a vicious blow from the Mate silenced him.

"You're a deserter, Turner," the man hissed.

His head ringing, Will decided to hold his tongue until he could see Captain Stanley.

Once on board, the soldiers hauled both Will and Jack down the hatch and into steerage, which Will had never seen. One part of this level had bars and a door, to serve as a brig. Into this, Will was shoved and the door locked. Jack they took down even further, into the hold.