Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom

by A. C. Crispin

  “You do look better,” Robby agreed. “I’ve never seen anyone so green in my life.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Jack said. “I assure you that I sincerely regret all those times I’ve laughed at lubbers who nearly turn themselves inside out, feeding the fish.”

  “It’s an awful smell,” Robby said.

  “Ships will be able to tell what we’re hauling for miles,” Jack said. He slumped forward, holding his head in his hands. “May all the forces of Hades and Hell damn Cutler Beckett for eternity, Robby,” he muttered. “May he die alone, and have no one to mourn him.”

  “Pretty strong curses, Jack,” Robby observed.

  “I hope they bloody well come true,” Jack said, in a savage undertone. “You should have seen him that day, Robby. I never fooled him. He knew I was lying about something, even if he couldn’t prove it. So he set out to grind me into the muck, just like he’d squash a bloody cockroach. Sodding little wanker.” He dropped his hands.

  Robby raised his eyebrows. “The only other man I’ve ever seen that made you this angry was Christophe, Jack.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t fantasized about running the little git through, Robby.”

  “I’d be surprised to find that he knows how to fence,” Robby said.

  “I can’t go back to work for him,” Jack said. “Even if he keeps his word and signs over the Wench, the ship’ll be…tainted for me. He’s ruined her. I took a hand steering her, and she’s lost her yar, Robby.”

  Robby sighed. “I guess we could have predicted this. You know how much he wanted to find that island. But Cutler Beckett is already rich and powerful. Why does he need more?”

  “I think wielding power and manipulating people are the only things that give him pleasure,” Jack said, “And he won’t be satisfied till I’m broken to his will.”

  “What are you going to do, Jack?”

  “I can’t let him win,” Jack said. “I can’t let him beat me and suck the life out of my ship. I just can’t, Robby.” After a moment, Jack’s bowed shoulders straightened, then he sat up, tossing his hair back from his eyes. “I can’t take those people to New Avalon, either.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Jack tapped his fingers on the tabletop for a minute, then got up and restlessly paced back and forth for many minutes. Finally he halted. “I’m going to bloody let them go, Robby.”

  “Let them go? Where? They’ll just be recaptured!”

  “Not where I’m going to release them, they won’t. I’m sailing for Kerma, Robby. It isn’t far off our course. I’ll get Amenirdis—that’s Ayisha’s real name—to talk her brother into giving the slaves…what do they call it…” He snapped his fingers. “Asylum. Yes.”

  Robby’s mouth dropped open. “But Jack, we can’t get back there! We tried the fogbank. It was awful! The ship will be lost!”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Jack said. “Amenirdis gave me this,” he held up the ring. “With this I can summon her, get her to come out and take these people to safety.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then I’m stealing my Wench and taking her back to the Caribbean. Port Royal. I hope I can get a message to Esmeralda there. I’m going to take her up on her offer.”

  “But, but, what about Teague? You said you’d be hung if you tried to go back.”

  “That was when Borya and Christophe were still alive. Now they’re dead, and at my hand. Well, I had help with Borya, but who’s going to know? Esmeralda said if I proved that I had made up for what I’d done, by killing the rogues I’d stupidly freed, that would be my way back to the cove, and acceptance and forgiveness by the Pirate Lords. Remember?”

  Jack nodded at Christophe’s sword, hanging on the wall. “Both rogues are dead. If I steal the Wench I’ll be a pirate anyway. Might as well go for the whole thing, Robby.”

  “But, but—”

  “Robby, when I get to Port Royal, I’ll release anyone in the crew that doesn’t want to go with me. I’ll pick up enough of a crew to get the Wench to Tortuga, and then I’ll be able to get a full crew. It will work. I know it will!”

  “I’m with you,” Robby said. “We can take some fine prizes with this ship, if we get her properly armed.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that, Robby!”

  Jack whirled. “Let’s get more canvas on this leaky old sow of a tub. I want me Wench back, and I’ll get her by reaching Kerma as quickly as possible. Robby, it will take a couple of weeks to get there. Talk to the crew. Feel them out. Find out who’s a possible candidate to help us. When we reach that fogbank, we’ll need armed men to keep Beckett’s people in line as we off-load the slaves. Can you do that?”

  Robby stood up. “I’m your man, Jack,” he said. “Now and always, you know that. It’s good to hear you sounding like yourself again.”

  “It’s good to feel like meself again, Robby. Hold on a moment. This calls for a toast.”

  Jack quickly poured shots of rum into a couple of battered cups for himself and his first mate. “Here’s to going back on the account, Robby. I say, to hell with the Cutler Becketts of this world, and to hell with their so-called ‘legal’ ways of doing business. Once a pirate, always a pirate. I know that now, and I swear from now on, it’s the pirate life for me!”

  “To the pirate life!” Robby echoed.

  They clashed their tin cups together, and drank the toast.

  Jack stood on the bow of the hove-to Wicked Wench, staring at the bank of fog. They were less than a league from it. Plenty close enough, he decided. Closing his eyes, he thought of Amenirdis.…

  He pictured the white flash of her teeth as she laughed. The way her hair had coiled around his finger when he played with it. The cinnamon-brown of her skin, and the way it had felt when he kissed her. The way she tasted…her scent…her eyes…

  Concentrating, Jack located his sharpest, most vivid memory of her, and focused on it, remembering the way she’d looked when she’d wrapped the sash around his waist, then looked up at him, saying solemnly, “I will pray to Apedemak each day that my weaving will be strong enough to protect you from injury, or sickness, or harm.”

  Jack held that image in his mind, lifted the ring to his mouth, and breathed on it.

  He didn’t know what he’d expected. There was no flash of communication, no answer. Jack could only trust that she’d “heard” him, and would come.

  Turning, he went down off the bow, and then to his quarters, where Robby had gathered his most loyal men. Cutler Beckett’s men didn’t need to know what was going on until Jack was sure that the Kermans would rescue the slaves. If any of Beckett’s “handlers” asked why they were hove-to, Jack was prepared to fob them off with some explanation about the ship needing some kind of repair.

  But as soon as he was sure that the slaves would indeed be freed today, Robby would open the arms locker and distribute weapons to Matthews, Banks, Trafford, de Ver, Featherstone, and the other crew that the first mate knew would prove loyal.

  After making sure everyone understood the plan, Jack dismissed the men to wait. He stood by the bow for a while, then realized he hadn’t eaten that day. Eating something would help pass the time. His new cook was, if anything, even worse than the old one had been. As soon as he was a pirate again, Jack resolved, he’d find himself a cook that could actually cook.

  After he’d eaten, Jack went back up on deck. He forced himself to keep to a leisurely stride. No sense in warning any of Beckett’s men that something was up.

  Amenirdis must be on her way, Jack thought. She might come sailing out of the fog any moment now.…

  Thinking about seeing her, touching her, made him realize that his hands were filthy, his face was dirty, and he hadn’t shaved in weeks. Repressing a yelp, Jack waved casually at Robby. “Going for a bit of a swim, mate,” he called. Shucking off his clothes, he dived off the ship. He paddled around, rubbing at his hands, his face. His fingers left streaks of clean skin.

  He didn’
t stay in long; the water was cold, and he still had to shave and get dressed.

  By the time Jack reappeared on deck, wearing his best clothes, his hair combed, freshly shaved, it had been almost two hours since he’d used the ring. What if she never appeared? What if the ring didn’t work?

  Robby came over to join him. “You look much better, Jack.”

  “Could hardly have looked worse, mate,” Jack admitted.

  “True.”

  Jack gave his friend a glance. Robby smiled innocently.

  “I’ll have to get new clothes,” Jack said, “When we get to Port Royal. Boots. Definitely boots. And a hat. A new hat.”

  “Oh, boots, yes,” Robby said. “I need a new hat, too. We’ll be a dashing pair, won’t we? Ships will be lining up to be our prizes.”

  Jack laughed, for the first time in nearly a month. Then he stopped abruptly, every muscle tense. “Look!” he pointed.

  A ship nosed out of the fogbank. It was the Heka.

  Jack rowed over in the dinghy. He scrambled up over the railing, and found Amenirdis, Tarek, and Chamba waiting for him. He’d never been so glad to see anyone in his life. He shook hands solemnly with Chamba, bobbed a bow at Tarek, and held out both hands to Amenirdis. “Hallo, love,” he said.

  She extended her hands, and took his, her grasp warm. “Hallo, Jack. I did not expect to see you again so soon.” The princess looked at him closely, then touched his freshly shaved cheek. “There is trouble,” she said. “I feel it. You carry a weight on you. You have been hurt, Jack.”

  “I have,” he confessed, and, taking a deep breath, launched into his story.

  Minutes later, the Heka came about and glided back through the illusion-fog, taking them to the pharaoh, to see if he would give permission and pledge his help to the slaves aboard the Wicked Wench.

  Amenirdis took Jack down to her cabin, and they sat on cushions, talking, sipping a little wine, as the yacht glided along. Jack heard all about the first Royal Progress the pharaoh had made around the island so his subjects would be able to see their new ruler. Chamba and Amenirdis were working with some of the best minds on Kerma to teach them English, so they would be able to go out into the world and learn the skills Shabako knew his people needed to know.

  Jack told Amenirdis that Christophe was dead. He was surprised when she merely nodded. “You knew?” he asked. “Did you have a vision or something?”

  “No,” she told him. “But I was told by someone very powerful that Christophe had only a short time to live. That very night…his time was short, indeed.”

  Jack described the events that had taken place since he’d last seen her—how Cutler Beckett was even now sending a fleet toward the bearings he’d given. “Love, they know what the illusion-fog is like,” he told her. “I believe that you will need to change the way you protect the island from detection, if that is possible. The illusion-fog might be beaten by a crew determined enough. I was able to rally my crew, shut out the bad effects to some extent, when I went back in, by concentrating on saving my ship. If I could do it, others could, too.”

  She nodded. “I have been thinking much the same. But you are the one who knows how modern ships navigate. What do you think would work best?”

  “If you can, make it so that any ship that approaches the island simply won’t see it. Affect their compasses, so they don’t read quite right. And do one of those illusions you told me you use when you want to go unobserved…make the eye slide past the island, unable to focus on it. Something of that sort. Make sure that even if ships come within, say, half a mile of the island, they’ll never realize what they’re looking at. Savvy?”

  “Yes, Jack. All good suggestions. I will speak to the high priest about it myself, tomorrow morning.”

  “Good.”

  When Heka reached the harbor, Jack saw several chariots waiting for them. He climbed into the one that Amenirdis drove and held on as she shouted a command that sent her horses into a brisk canter. She drove the team capably, her kohled eyes bright and fearless. The chariot wheels bounced as they hit a rock. Jack held on even tighter. The princess, seeing his white-knuckled grip, smiled and slowed them a bit.

  When they reached the royal palace, they were shown immediately into Shabako’s presence. Jack bowed, though he didn’t kneel to do it. “Your Majesty,” he said, “I need your help. Cutler Beckett, the man who purchased your sister, and caused the death of your former high priest, forced me to take a hold full of slaves. Two of the poor souls have died already. I want to let them go, set them free. But if I do that anywhere in Africa, or the Caribbean, they stand a good chance of being recaptured. Can you grant them asylum here, on Kerma?”

  “How many of them are there?” the Pharaoh asked.

  “Not quite two hundred.”

  Shabako beckoned to his sister. “Please give me a moment. I must confer with my Grand Vizier.”

  Jack was left alone in the private audience chamber with its tall lotus columns. The painted walls seemed to reflect Old Kerma’s ancient history, for the buildings stood in a desert landscape, near a great river, not on the green foothills of the island. That must be the Nile, Jack thought, remembering what Amenirdis had told him of her people’s past. Jack remembered that long ago day when he and Christophe had talked about sailing the Nile.…

  The pharoah and Amenirdis returned to the chamber. Jack bowed to them, then looked over at Amenirdis, wondering what the decision would be, but her impassive countenance gave him no hint of the outcome.

  Shabako regarded him gravely. “We recognize the essential goodness of your mission here, Jack Sparrow,” he said, formally. “Yes, we will grant these poor captives asylum. But this island is not large. We cannot make such a gesture again. Do you understand?”

  Jack closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said.

  Heka reemerged from the illusion-fog at the head of a flotilla of vessels from Kerma. Every yacht, every fishing boat, and even some huge outrigger canoes had been commandeered by the pharaoh’s men. Everyone who could speak pidgin would be helping to reassure the slaves and get them safely loaded.

  When Amenirdis, wearing the same clothes she’d worn to go into the labyrinth, got ready to head below with Chamba, Tarek, Shabako, and his guards, she looked at Jack. “Stay in your cabin, Jack,” she said. “You have done your part.”

  Jack nodded. “Thank you, love. I must admit I wasn’t looking forward to this.”

  The loading went fairly smoothly. Only two slaves panicked and threw themselves into the water, but were quickly fished out and placed into rescue vessels. Jack stood on the deck of the Wicked Wench, knowing that now, for good or ill, the die was cast. His old life was over…his new life, yet to begin. He felt as though he were suspended in some kind of limbo. But he felt like Captain Jack Sparrow again.

  As the first of the loaded boats began heading into the fog, Amenirdis came back aboard the Wicked Wench.

  “I believe it is going smoothly enough,” she said. “I am not needed at this point. We have a few minutes to talk, Jack.”

  Jack glanced around at the deck of the Wench, at his armed crewmen, then reached down and took her hand. “Come to my cabin, love,” he said.

  When they stood in the cabin, Amenirdis looked around, and smiled. “It is the same. We spent so many happy hours here, did we not?”

  “Well, most of them, we were asleep,” Jack said, with a faint smile.

  “But it was a happy sleep,” she reminded him. “We lay close together.”

  “Yes,” he said. Stepping over to her, he put his arms around her. “Come over to the bunk,” he said. He felt her shake her head, and start to pull away, then added, hastily, “I didn’t mean it that way, I swear. All I want to do is lie down with you and hold you, love. The way we did, those nights we were together.”

  “All right,” she whispered.

  Taking off his hat and coat, Jack slid off his shoes and lay down. The princess snuggled up next to him. Putting hi
s arms around her, pulling her close, Jack sighed, feeling himself relax completely for the first time in a month. “This is good,” he said. “I just needed to hold you. It’s been rather horrible, love.”

  “I can tell,” she said.

  He buried his face in her hair. “Listen, love, I have something to tell you. Robby and I…well, we’ve got no choice, now. Setting these people free, in the eyes of the law, we’ve stolen them. That’s piracy. So we’re taking the Wench and heading for the Caribbean.”

  “You’ll be a pirate again?”

  “Yes. It’s what I am, love.”

  “I know. Esmeralda knows, too.” She smiled faintly. “Everyone knew that but you, you stubborn man.” The princess pulled back a little and smiled at him. “Tell Esmeralda I send her my best when you see her, please. Tell her I am making the red silk dress, in my spare time. I may finish it in a year or so.”

  Jack kissed her forehead. “I wish I could see you wear it. Maybe at some point, I’ll take the Wench around the world. Always wanted to do the circumnavigation thing. Just to say I’d done it.”

  “And when you do, you’ll stop by and stay for a month on Kerma,” she said, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. “You will, won’t you?”

  “Yes, if you want me to.”

  “I will always want you to. I will always love you, Jack. That’s forever.”

  He held her very tightly for a few more minutes, then it was time to go.

  Saying good-bye gave him déjà vu. Jack held her hands and tried to smile, and Amenirdis did the same. Tears welled in her eyes, but she allowed none to fall.

  This time there were no words; neither of them spoke.

  Later, as he leaned on the rail, watching the stern of Heka vanish into the fogbank, Robby came over to stand beside him. “You could have gone with her, Jack,” he said, softly. “Aren’t you curious about Kerma and the Shining City? Wouldn’t you like to explore it? Ever think about just chucking it all and finding a home?”

  “For about one minute, Robby,” Jack said. “But what would I do on an island, with a princess?”