Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom

by A. C. Crispin

  And then, early one morning when they’d met at the dory in their pre-arranged meeting spot, Christophe came striding up, all smiles, to ask whether he could join the party.

  For the first time in his life, Jack had discovered he was violently jealous of another man—but he didn’t dare show it. Christophe was his friend, and Esmeralda had no idea how he felt about her. Jack had to swallow his resentment and smile.

  Esmeralda seemed delighted to have Christophe join their company, and every time she smiled at the older pirate captain, Jack had to exert self-control to keep his expression from betraying his feelings.

  For the next ten days, Christophe joined Jack and Esmeralda for nearly every foray. One good thing came out of it—Christophe was an excellent swordsman, and he began tutoring both of the younger fencers, teaching them many moves that weren’t part of classical fencing, but were designed to save one’s life during boarding, or a shipboard fray.

  After their first few outings together, Jack realized that Christophe had Esmeralda in his sights. There could be no doubt. Where Jack had been careful not touch her, not to push things, Christophe stood close to her at every opportunity. He never missed a chance to offer her a hand up when they prepared to rise after eating their repast on the beach. When he corrected her swordsmanship, he frequently stood behind her and slid his hand over hers to practice the lunges and parries he’d been demonstrating. And when he corrected her lunges, he did it in such a way that she wound up pressed against him.

  It was obvious to Jack that Christophe intended to seduce Esmeralda.

  He had no idea what to do about this realization. It wasn’t his place to say anything; he had no claim on Esmeralda. Surely the lady knew what was going on, didn’t she? A blind man could see it.

  While Jack was still stewing over whether to try to get Esmeralda alone and talk to her about what was happening, something else occurred that, at least temporarily, drove all thought of their embryonic triangle out of his mind.

  One day Esmeralda asked Jack and Christophe to be her escorts for an evening’s outing. She explained that she’d like to go to their favorite tavern, The Drunken Lady, because she’d heard them speak of it. Her grandfather, however, wouldn’t permit her to go unaccompanied. Don Rafael was no fool, so despite her expertise with sword and dagger, Esmeralda was under orders not to go wandering around alone in the lairs and warrens of Shipwreck City.

  Several times, Jack had spoken of his friend Steve, the barkeep, and his wife, Marie, and Esmeralda particularly wanted to meet the unusual pair. “I get lonely for the sound of another woman’s voice,” she commented, sounding wistful. “This Marie sounds like she would be interesting to talk to, and since she is a…respectable married woman, my grandfather wouldn’t object to her the way he would to…” she blushed slightly, as Christophe gave her a knowing smirk, “a…you know. Can’t you two take me there sometime? I get tired of staying aboard Venganza and just reading every night!”

  Jack glanced at Christophe. “If Don Rafael agrees, I’d be delighted to,” he said.

  “Et moi, ma belle!” Christophe said, with a mocking grin, ostentatiously holding out his hand to her. “I would give my all to be one of your escorts to our fair city.”

  With a little laugh at his silliness, Esmeralda held her hand out in return. Christophe took his time holding it, then took even longer kissing it. Jack had to bite the inside of his cheek.

  The following day, shortly after sunset, Jack and Christophe, dressed in their best (and Jack’s “best” was, of course, a far cry from Christophe’s brocaded splendor), presented themselves at Venganza’s dock. As the relative cool of the evening settled over the cove, and the gigantic pile of ships began to wink with lamplight and candlelight, like a thousand sparkling fireflies gathering in the gloom, Rafael solemnly squired his granddaughter out onto the deck. He kissed her at the top of the gangplank, then, fixing her aspiring swains with a jaundiced glance, he announced loudly that he expected her to return in two hours.

  Esmeralda made a face at her curfew, but she didn’t say anything. Jack and Christophe both nodded and bowed solemnly, assuring Don Rafael that they would return her, or die trying (at least, that was the way Christophe expressed it).

  As she descended the gangplank, Esmeralda looked beautiful in a gown of silvery gray silk. It was very modestly cut, and she wore no jewelry save for small silver earrings. “I didn’t want to dress up much,” she confided, breathlessly. “I mean, I don’t want to attract attention.”

  Jack thought that Esmeralda would attract men’s attention dressed in old sacks, but he nodded solemnly, understanding what she meant.

  The three made their way through the crazily winding, often uneven halls that connected the stacked vessels of Shipwreck City, until they reached The Drunken Lady. When they got there, they were able to quickly claim a table, because they were there early, and ordered wine. Esmeralda looked around with unabashed curiosity as she sipped her drink. Jack and Christophe, abstemious because of their sacred charge, confined themselves to wine, and introduced her to several of the pirate captains they knew. Knowing that she was the granddaughter of a respected and feared Pirate Lord, everyone they introduced her to was on his best behavior.

  After they’d finished their glass of wine, Jack introduced Esmeralda to Steve and Marie. The two ladies seemed to hit it off immediately, and went off to another table to chat privately and have another glass of wine. They were still talking when the evening’s regular contingent of buccaneers came shuffling, peg-legging, or striding in. Steve, in order to give his wife a night off, had hired a lad to wait on the tables. The taproom’s temperature quickly rose, and Steve had to open the windows in the hopes of letting in a breeze.

  Jack and Christophe watched Esmeralda talking to Marie, fanning first herself, then the other woman, both of them laughing and chattering. “She’s having a good time,” Jack said, smiling to see his friend enjoying herself.

  “Oui, but I could show her a better one, mon ami,” Christophe said, gazing at the two women. Catching Esmeralda’s eye, he ostentatiously raised his glass in a toast to, first, her, then to Marie. Both ladies blushed. “I could show both of them a better time,” he added, licking his lips beneath his rakish moustache. “Mon Dieu, to have a double armful of them in my bed!”

  Jack blinked at him, then realized what he was saying, and was horrified to feel his face grow hot. Quickly, he bent over to tug up his freshly cleaned and oiled right boot. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tumbled more than one wench at a time. He had. There were those twins in Tortuga…he half smiled at the memory.

  But Esmeralda and Marie…they were different. They were ladies. Thinking of them that way didn’t seem right.

  Jack glanced away from Christophe as he slowly straightened back up, hoping the color in his cheeks would be attributed to bending over. As he looked toward the back of the room, the part that overhung Shipwreck Cove, his attention was caught by a high-pitched, quavering voice, drunkenly babbling.

  “—and they’re all afraid, afraid of the devil! Old One Tooth Tommy, he’s the only one with the guts to tell what he saw that night! The night the devil drowned the Cobra!”

  Jack frowned. The Cobra…that was Barbossa’s ship.…

  He glanced over at Christophe, who had leaned over to talk to someone he knew at the next table. Esmeralda and Marie were still chatting over in the corner, under Steve’s watchful eye.

  Jack waved quickly at Christophe and stood up. “Be right back,” he mouthed. Christophe gave him a half wave in acknowledgment.

  Moving through the throng, Jack approached the big windows that stood wide open, giving a view of the cove. The moon was rising over the black water, and it touched the edges of the ripples with vermeil.

  He found the man who was talking by following the sound of his high-pitched voice. He sat all alone at a table in the otherwise crowded tavern, obviously well into his cups, an ancient bald pirate, thin as a spar, with corded muscles s
tanding out on skinny arms. His face was weathered and so wrinkled his features looked like an old treasure map. Dressed in clothing that was battered and torn even for Shipwreck City, he had a bottle of rum in front of him, but no glass. As Jack approached, he broke off his rant, then clutched his bottle to his chest. He also shut his mouth, eyeing Jack warily.

  Jack essayed his most disarming grin. “Hallo, er, Tommy. You are Tommy, aren’t you?”

  The old pirate nodded, looking Jack up and down, dubiously. He cocked his head at his visitor. “They call me One Tooth Tommy. ’Cause o’ me tooth.” He opened his mouth to demonstrate, pointing. There it was, surprisingly clean and white, looking like a slab of marble embedded in a cavern of rose quartz.

  Jack nodded. “Ah, an apt sobriquet,” he said. “May I join you for a moment?”

  One Tooth Tommy clutched his bottle harder. “Ain’t gonna share,” he warned. “But ye can sit down.” He peered nearsightedly at Jack, then his expression brightened. “I know who ye be! I seen ye walking with him, the one what keeps the Code. Right?” He nodded to himself, then took a swig of rum. “Look like him, ye do. They say he wants justice for us what was aboard Cobra. Can I trust ye?”

  Jack nodded. “Of course you can. I heard Captain Barbossa’s story.”

  “The Keeper’s the only one trying to find out who sent the Cobra to Davy Jones’s locker, along with a lot of good men,” One Tooth Tommy said. “Cap’n Barbossa said it’s against the Code for pirates to sneak up on other pirates, then shoot ’em in the back.” He swigged from the rum again. “Had a brass bow chaser, he did. Seen its like before, in India. Them Hindoos made it all fancy with carvings.”

  Jack leaned forward, conspiratorially. “Who is ‘he’?”

  “Why, he’s the devil. He’s magic, he is,” Tommy assured him. “I seen him that night, on his ship. Lookin’ for survivors, he was, in the water. Not to save ’em. To kill ’em. The smoke was so thick, it hid us. Only reason we survived. ’Cause when the devil wants ye, he takes ye. Right?”

  “Absolutely,” Jack said.

  “Saw him last night, too,” announced One Tooth Tommy, meditatively, sucking on his tooth. “He’s here.”

  Jack stared at him in shock, then recalled that the old pirate was very, very drunk. “Here? In Shipwreck Cove, mate?”

  “Aye, here. Saw him on the deck of his ship. ’Twas him all right. But he…”

  One Tooth Tommy broke off, cringing back, his eyes fixed on something past Jack’s shoulder.

  Jack turned around, to find Christophe approaching, clearly impatient. “There you are!” he said. “Esmeralda has finished her woman-talk, and asks that we take her outside for some air, Jacques.” He stopped, eyeing Jack and the old pirate. “But, of course, if you are busy, I could take her myself.…”

  “No,” Jack said, hastily, rising. “I was just going. Nice to meet you…Tom,” he said, over his shoulder, as he followed his friend back into the melee that was now the taproom of The Drunken Lady. The old pirate, bottle still clutched to his chest, gave him a tentative wave.

  Jack was so intrigued by what the old pirate had said that he decided he’d try to talk to Tommy again, after he and Christophe took Esmeralda back to Venganza by the appointed hour. Accordingly, he went back to The Drunken Lady later, alone, to search for him, but Tommy wasn’t anywhere to be found, and nobody recalled seeing him leave.

  He looked for One Tooth Tommy the next day, also to no avail. And the next night. Nobody remembered seeing him around.

  Jack began to wonder whether the old pirate had managed to get a berth on a ship that had departed. Pirate vessels went in and out of Shipwreck Cove nearly every day.

  The next night, after spending the morning with Christophe and Esmeralda, and watching Christophe’s ever-bolder advances, a tense, frustrated Jack went looking for a wench he knew, a lively brunette by the name of Melinda. He found her in one of the rowdier taverns, The Parrot’s Perch, on the arm of another pirate, a short, extraordinarily ugly man with a balding pate, hideous teeth, a pronounced paunch, and an evil leer. Melinda was looking very fine indeed that night, wearing her bottle-green gown, with her brown hair done up, baring her shoulders. Jack saw her through the crowd, and began edging his way through it to reach her.

  He stepped on a few toes, and got some dirty looks, but finally managed to get close to her. Her short, unappealing escort was grinning at her and running his grimy fingers down the sleeve of her gown. Jack was sure he glimpsed drool slicking the man’s chin. He shuddered, and raised his voice, so she could hear him over the drunken din. “Melinda, love!” he exclaimed. “Let me take you away from all this.”

  She turned at the sound of his voice, smiling broadly. One of her front teeth was missing, but Jack thought that gave her a piquant air. He leaned close enough to see the freckles that sprinkled her nose and cheeks, and gestured at her inebriated admirer. “Ditch him, darling. Come away with me.”

  Melinda regarded him speculatively, while absentmindedly fending off the groping hands of her companion. She was clearly tempted. Jack flashed his most engaging, roguish smile at her, and she shook her head. “Darling, there’s nothing I’d like better,” she slapped a filthy hand away from her bosom, “but I knows ye, Jacky, ye know I does. And a workin’ girl’s gotta eat and pay the rent. Let me see the color of your coin, Jacky.”

  Jack nodded, unfazed. Business was business, after all. Fumbling some coins from his purse, he showed them to her, but curled his fingers over his palm when Melinda reached for them.

  She gave him a coquettish smile and winked one pretty brown eye. “That’ll do, love. And you, um, Pintel. Let go of me,” she said, addressing her would-be escort. When the man protested in a slurred voice, not relinquishing his grasp, Melinda’s knee flashed swiftly upward. The short pirate’s knees sagged and he gasped. He let go.

  “Next time, when a lady says ‘let go,’ Pintel,” Melinda said, her pert nose in the air, “perhaps you’ll listen.”

  Swishing her skirt, she stepped over to Jack and took his arm. “Let’s go somewhere quieter, Jacky,” she suggested.

  “My very thought,” he replied.

  Together they traversed the corridors and warren-like passageways of Shipwreck City, until they were once more at the level of the cove. It was much quieter outside, and they began walking along the docks, looking for an unoccupied, dark place to conduct their business.

  They’d walked nearly around the little island that held Shipwreck City, all of it lined with layers of docks, passing Troubadour and Venganza midway. Finally, just as Jack was about to suggest going back to her room, he spied a place that would serve—a section of dock that lay in deep shadow cast by the nearly full moon. He steered Melinda toward it, and had just begun to strip off his coat to lay it down on the splinter-infested wood, when he heard a gasp from his companion that grew so shrill it was almost a scream.

  Whirling around, he saw her staring, eyes wide, at the water. “What is it?” he demanded.

  Wordlessly, she pointed, her hand shaking.

  Jack looked, following the angle of her finger, and saw, in the moonlight, what was floating a few feet below them. He stared, silent with shock, hearing the gentle lapping of the water—and also the soft, sodden thumps the left leg made as it drifted back and forth against the pilings.

  “Tommy,” Jack whispered. “It has to be.” The clothes were right, and the man had been bald. But he couldn’t be certain. The dead flesh was the color of seawater, and bloated.…

  Seeing also that the crabs had been at the body, Jack felt his stomach lurch. He’d seen dozens, possibly hundreds of dead men—and some of them he’d known. But most of them had been killed in battle, not drowned.

  Hastily, he handed Melinda the coins she hadn’t yet earned, and ordered her to go back to Troubadour’s berth, call out to the crewman on watch for Captain Teague, then lead the Pirate Lord back here immediately. “And then go straight home,” he said.

  “All right,” sh
e agreed, her voice a bit unsteady, as she made the coins disappear. “But what are you going to do, Jacky?”

  “I’m going to fish the poor old sot out,” Jack said, grimly, removing his waistcoat and looking around for a boat hook. “Hurry up now, love. You don’t want to see this.”

  “You’re right,” she said, and, gulping audibly, snatched up her skirts and started off at a trot.

  Jack was thoroughly wet by the time he’d managed to get a rope around the corpse and haul it up onto the dock. Clouds had moved in, and he had to conclude the last part of the nasty business in near-darkness.

  Just as he finished turning the body over so it lay face-up, he heard voices, and saw the swaying lights of lanterns approaching. Jack stood up, dripping, to find a very aggravated Captain Teague and several of his men approaching.

  “What’s going on here, boy?” the Keeper demanded, impatiently. “What have you done now, Jacky?”

  Jack forced himself not to react to the way Teague said that hated nickname. It wasn’t anything new for the Keeper to blame him for whatever went wrong.

  “Found a body in the cove,” he replied, shortly. “One of Barbossa’s crew. His name was Tommy. One Tooth Tommy.” He saw the anger in Teague’s eyes, and forced his voice to stay level. “Step over here, please, Captain,” he said, moving out of earshot of Teague’s men.

  Still angry, but beginning to be puzzled, Teague followed, motioning to his men for privacy. Jack gestured at the body and lowered his voice. “I met him two nights ago, in The Drunken Lady. The poor old sot was bloody drunk off his arse, and raving.”

  Teague started to speak, and Jack held up a hand to forestall him. “What he was going on about, Captain, was that during the battle, he’d seen the captain of the rogue ship that sank the Cobra. Said their attacker had a fancy brass bow chaser. But just before he clammed up, he told me he’d seen ‘the devil’—that’s what he called the captain—here. In the cove. Said he was standing on the deck of his ship, three nights ago.”