Wild Waters

by Rob Kidd

  “Who, you mean the Pirate Lord of the Atlantic Ocean?” Billy said, evidently completely missing the point of Jack’s lowered voice.

  A hiss swept through the crowd, and suddenly the pirates looked ten times more hostile than before, which Jack wouldn’t have thought possible.

  “What!” he said in an exaggeratedly loud voice. “Who? Never heard of him! No! Certainly not! Couldn’t care less about the fellow!” He winked hugely at Billy, hoping his old friend would interpret correctly.

  Unfortunately for Jack, Billy was used to seeing Jack do lots of peculiar things, so he had long since given up on figuring out the meaning of any of them.

  “But I thought you wanted us to find him,” Billy said blankly. “That’s the whole reason we’re here, isn’t it?”

  Now the pirates of Libertalia were practically growling. Jack slapped his forehead and looked pained.

  “See, this is the problem with pirates,” he said.

  “Not great communicators, I’m afraid. With the notable exception of myself, of course.”

  “You’ll not find that bloody Pirate Lord here!” shouted a one-legged man in the crowd.

  “If we caught a whiff of ’im near Libertalia, we’d skin him alive and play music with his bones!” yelled another pirate.

  “And cut off his toes!” bellowed a third.

  “And feed his flesh to our cattle!”

  Jack wrinkled his nose. “First of all, what kind of self-respecting pirates have cattle? And secondly, while I applaud your creativity when it comes to violence, I do have to wonder why any pirate wouldn’t be welcome in a pirate utopia?”

  “King Samuel is a liar and a traitor!” snarled an African pirate with two gold teeth and a long scar along his well-muscled shoulder.

  “King Samuel,” Jack muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Billy. “Remember that.” He turned back to the pirate who had spoken.

  “A liar and a traitor, eh? Sounds horribly like…a pirate.” He widened his eyes thoughtfully.

  “But this one doesn’t honor the Code!” The scarred pirate slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. “He’s made underhanded deals with the Dutch and the Portuguese to let their slave ships through. He’s been selling people—prisoners he captures, warriors he defeats, even his own people!—as slaves. He calls himself a king…but the truth is, he is nothing but filth.” The man spat in the dirt.

  Jack frowned. He himself had some fairly strong feelings about selling people—namely, that it was utterly wrong. Not to mention unworthy of a pirate. But he had no choice; he needed to find this King Samuel to retrieve his vial of Shadow Gold.

  And yet, how could he Parlay with a man like that? Accepting hospitality from Sri Sumbhajee was one thing; this was quite another. Clearly this would be a very different kind of mission from the first few.

  “That’s horrible!” Carolina gasped. Jack realized she and Diego had come down from the ship and were standing behind him. “Jack,” she said, “we shouldn’t have anything to do with a dishonorable pirate like that. He won’t help us against the Shadow Lord—nor would we want his help!”

  “Shadow Lord?” Teague echoed curiously.

  “You might be right,” Jack said to Carolina, “but that’s not the only business we have with the Pirate Lord, remember?” He gave her a significant look, and unlike Billy, she got the hint and stopped talking.

  “Well, as you can see, Jackie, you’ll not find much love for King Samuel around these parts,” Teague observed. He glanced slyly at the Black Pearl. “Perhaps if you told me what you were looking for…”

  “No,” Jack said stoutly. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “Hmmm,” Teague said, narrowing his eyes. After a long pause he continued, “Very well. To the mansion, then…Grandmama awaits.” He grinned crookedly and turned with a flourish of his red coat.

  Jack shuddered. The truth was, he would much rather do battle with King Samuel, or even face the Shadow Lord all by himself, then go home with Teague to have dinner with his grandmother.

  But he had no choice. Lifting his chin, he led his motley crew through the crowd as the Libertalia pirates parted respectfully for Captain Teague.

  He just hoped they wouldn’t be serving that disgusting cod soup he remembered from his childhood.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Captain Teague lived in the largest house in Libertalia—a three-story mansion built of mahogany and other strong jungle woods. The polished dark brown walls and bronze accents gleamed in the long rays of the sunset. Jack eyed the windows suspiciously as he approached. He was sure there were family members lurking behind each of them, watching him walk up with his crew and probably planning something sinister.

  One family member wasn’t bothering to hide. She sat in an ebony rocking chair on the large veranda that ran around the front of the house. Her sharp black eyes glared out from a spiderweb of deep wrinkles. The chair went thump-thump on the boards of the veranda as she rocked vigorously back and forth. A bright red bandanna covered her thick gray curls, and Jack knew that the false teeth she wore included two of gold and one with a small ruby set in it. As a child, that ruby had given him nightmares. To him, it always looked as if she had a spot of blood on her teeth, left there after she ate her enemies.

  “Grandmama,” Jack said, lifting his hat to her at the foot of the porch stairs. “Looking well as always. Better than I expected. Rather surprised to see you still alive, in fact.”

  His grandmother snorted. “Not as surprised as I am to see you still alive,” she snapped. “You must be as lucky as you are stupid.”

  Barbossa snickered, then quickly put on a bland expression when Jack turned to glare at him.

  Grandmama’s voice was as strong and husky as ever. She had been eighty-two when Jack left home as a teenager. Several years had passed since then, and she didn’t look a day older. Jack’s eyes went to the wrinkled hands that clutched her gleaming wooden cane. He knew from painful experience that there was a very sharp sword hidden inside that cane, not to mention the daggers she kept tucked away in various pockets of her attire.

  “Why don’t you introduce us to your crew?” Teague interceded smoothly.

  “Right,” Jack said. “This is my first mate, Hector Barbossa—bit of an odd duck. Has a thing for feathers, as you can see. Don’t mind the dreadful hat.”

  “I can hear you,” Barbossa growled at him.

  “I quite like the hat,” Grandmama said, giving Barbossa a suggestive smile. He squinted off at the setting sun, pretending not to notice.

  “Jean Magliore, my Creole friend from my Barnacle days,” Jack went on, waving his hand at the redheaded sailor. “His cousin Marcella, and our star-crossed lovers, Diego de Leon and Princess Carolina of Spain. I, of course, am the captain. Everyone may address me as Captain Jack.”

  “Very impressive, Jackie,” Teague said, and Jack frowned at him. Carolina and Diego both turned red and avoided each other’s eyes.

  “HEY,” Marcella said loudly. “I’m a star-crossed lover, too! It’s me and Diego, not him and Carolina! Get your facts straight, Sparrow!”

  Grandmama’s eyebrows went up, and her chair thumped faster on the porch floorboards. “You let your crew talk to you like that?” she sneered at Jack.

  “I’m not part of his crew!” Marcella shouted before Jack could answer. She tossed her lanky blond hair back. “I’m not a pirate! I’m a lady! A—an honored guest! Taken against my will!”

  Carolina rolled her eyes, and Grandmama chuckled in a faintly sinister way. “That is how we get most of our honored guests,” the old lady mused.

  “Shall we go in to supper?” Teague suggested. He held the door open and shepherded the guests inside. Grandmama heaved herself to her feet and followed, thumping pointedly with her cane. Jack barely managed to dodge it before she brought it down on his toes.

  The front door opened into a surprisingly grand hall, open all the way to the roof, with a vast staircase spiraling around the
walls to the upper two stories. Rich Oriental carpets woven in deep reds and browns and gold—no doubt plundered from some treasure-laden trading vessel—were spread across the floors and stairs.

  Teague ushered them to the left, into a dining room with tall windows along two sides. Through them, the pirates could see that night had fallen outside. Several closed doors along the third wall led to other parts of the house. Candles flickered on the long table and shining bronze lamps hung down from the ceiling, casting a warm glow.

  “Ooooooooooh,” Marcella said, clasping her hands together at the sight of the white damask tablecloth. “Linen! Silverware! It’s so civilized!”

  “Yes,” Jack said. “Very civilized stolen tablecloths and plundered forks.”

  Marcella ignored him. It had been long enough since she saw a properly laid table that she was willing to ignore where it all came from. “This is much nicer than sitting on the floor to eat your dinner, I must say,” she said rapturously, feeling the tablecloth between her fingers. “Plus there aren’t any horrible monkeys to steal your jewelry.”

  Teague gave Jack a questioning look.

  “Nothing,” Jack said quickly. He spun his finger by his temple meaningfully. “Raving, she is. Quite sad, really.”

  “Sitting on the floor,” Grandmama muttered, stomping over to the large chair at the nearest end of the table. “Monkeys.” She sat down and pointed her cane at Jack. “You’ve been to Sri Sumbhajee’s palace.”

  Diego’s jaw dropped. How had she guessed? Jack looked disgruntled.

  “Ah. Visiting Pirate Lords, are you?” Teague said, stroking his beard. He sat down at the other end of the table and motioned for Jack to sit to his right. The others pulled out chairs and sat down, jostling each other as they fought silently not to get stuck next to Grandmama. In the end, Carolina sat on one side of her with Barbossa on the other. Diego was across from Jack, with Marcella between him and Carolina, and Jean sat between Jack and Barbossa.

  “What do you want with the Pirate Lords, Jackie?” Teague asked. He rang a small silver bell that was beside him on the table.

  “Just seeing the world,” Jack said airily. “Visiting old acquaintances. Making some new ones. Are those new salt shakers?” Trying to distract Teague from the subject of his travels, he picked up one of the egg-shaped silver things on the table and nearly poured pepper in his eye as he examined it. A pair of servants appeared through one of the doors and began laying out platters of food—including roast beef, yams, and several intriguing and unfamiliar vegetables. Jean’s stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Here you go, Jackie,” Teague said, pouring a thick white liquid from a tureen into a bowl and setting it in front of him. “Cod soup! Your favorite!”

  Jack poked the soup glumly with his spoon.

  “Huh,” Grandmama snorted again. She pointed at Jack. “You know, the Brethren Court has gone way downhill since my day.”

  “Your day?” Carolina said. “Did you know earlier Pirate Lords of the Brethren Court?”

  “KNOW THEM?” Grandmama bellowed, her face turning purple with anger. “I WAS a Pirate Lord of the Brethren Court, you ignorant hussy!”

  “You were?” Carolina breathed. Female pirate captains were her heroes. She’d nearly died of excitement when she met Mistress Ching, Pirate Lord of the Pacific. She couldn’t believe she’d sailed with Jack all this time and he’d never mentioned that he had a famous pirate grandmother. “That’s amazing!”

  Carolina’s expression of genuine awe seemed to mollify Grandmama a bit. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Pirate Lord of the whole Atlantic Ocean, me. I was present for the second meeting of the court, where Morgan and Bartholomew set out the Pirate Code. Youngest Pirate Lord ever, I was. And the prettiest.”

  “Until me,” Jack observed as he speared a chunk of beef onto his plate.

  Grandmama gave him a steely glare. “I am still prettier than you. And a much better pirate.”

  Jack waggled his fork at her. “Ah, but being that I am the one in possession of a ship and crew, and not only that but the finest and fastest ship in all the world, I think the question of superior piratical skills might be up for debate.”

  “So what were Morgan and Bartholomew like?” Diego said quickly, hoping to stave off that particular “debate,” especially since it seemed likely to involve Grandmama flinging tankards and possibly knives.

  “Oh, don’t get her started,” Jack moaned, but it was too late.

  “Bartholomew was everything a pirate should be,” Grandmama said wistfully. “Fierce, quick to anger, violent, conniving, the whole package. He used to stick burning brands in his long black beard when he fought, so it looked like his whole head was smoking. Scared the devil out of the cowards he attacked. He was as tall as a house with shoulders as wide as four trees and the thickest, blackest eyebrows the world has ever seen. I never saw him smile, not once. Now there was a real pirate.” She gave Jack a look that clearly said “unlike you.”

  “Morgan, on the other hand, was a pretty useless pirate,” she went on, loading her plate with yams. “Kept losing his charts or dropping his compass over the side by accident, that sort of thing. But he had a flair for words. He’s the one that gave the Code its character. And rumor had it that he used that brain of his for some pretty nasty plans here and there, at least until he settled down to be governor of Jamaica, the lazy sot. Ah, well. I’m the only one from that court who’s still alive.” She cackled. “Outlasted all the old goats, I did.”

  “Well, it helps that you’ve retired to a pirate utopia,” Jack pointed out. “There’s not too many folks here trying to poke you with sharp, pointy things, are there?”

  Quick as a flash, Grandmama seized her steak knife and hurled it at Jack’s head. He just managed to dodge out of the way, nearly falling out of his chair in the process.

  “Now, Grandmama,” Teague said calmly. “No violence until after the soup course, please.”

  She scowled at Jack. “I’m still planning to go out fighting, with a sword in my hand. See if I don’t!” she snapped.

  “I would much rather not be there to see that,” Jack said sincerely. “Since I imagine I’ll be the one you’re trying to stick with it.”

  “You better believe it,” Grandmama grumbled, stabbing her peas viciously.

  “I want to know everything,” Carolina said, her eyes shining. “What was your ship called? Where did you sail? Did you—”

  But Carolina’s questions were not to be answered—for at that very moment, the sound of shattering glass suddenly filled the room. Figures in dark clothes crashed through the windows, brandishing long swords and deadly looking cutlasses. Jack only caught a glimpse of malevolent eyes bearing down on him before the wind from outside swept through the room, blowing out the candles and lamps.

  They were under attack—and they were fighting in pitch darkness!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  In one fluid movement, Jack drew his sword with one hand and seized his chair with the other, whipping it around in front of him like a shield. He heard a loud OOF ! as someone stumbled into one of the chair legs. He shoved the chair into the person’s chest, and whirled his sword around—but stopped short. What if he was slashing at the wrong person? What if he accidentally stabbed Barbossa or Diego instead of one of their attackers?

  Eh, no big loss, he thought.

  He stood still for a moment, listening to the crashes and shouts echoing around him in the darkness and trying to gauge how many attackers there were. They made very little noise as they fought—certainly not as much as Jack’s crew. Clearly, Captain Teague had no qualms about who he might hit; Jack could hear the all-too-familiar sound of Teague’s huge sword clanging against others and the deep chuckle Teague always let out when he struck flesh.

  On the other side of the table, Diego jumped to his feet as the lights went out. He reached wildly around him, only one thought flashing through his head. Carolina! I must get her to safety!

&nbs
p; Long hair brushed through his fingers. He seized her shoulders and she let out a yelp of surprise.

  “Don’t argue with me!” he whispered. “Quickly! We must hide!”

  He felt her start to pull away, so he wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, and carried her over to the doors in the opposite wall. Clanging swords crashed close to his head and he stumbled, banging his shin on a tipped-over chair. The girl in his arms nearly struggled loose, but he managed to grip her wrist and yank her after him through the first door his groping hand found. He slammed it behind them before he realized it led to a closet, small and dark. But that didn’t matter—at least they were safe! To his surprise, he felt Carolina throw her arms around his neck gratefully, and his lips met hers in the dark.

  Out in the pirate-filled dining room, Barbossa fought with canny instinct, sensing each attack and darting out of the way. He wondered where Jack was in the dark room. A thought crossed his mind: if Jack somehow ended up on the wrong end of a sword…In this darkness, nobody need know who did it. And then the Pearl would be his! He began to move stealthily around the table to where he thought he’d last seen his captain.

  Meanwhile, Jack reached into the dark with his sword hand and felt the edge of the table beside him. He quickly clambered onto it, slipping a little on the sheer tablecloth. He winced as his boots landed on someone’s plate and yams squished underfoot. But it couldn’t be helped—being up on the table would give him a position of strength. And besides, this was an excellent opportunity to get rid of the cod soup. He calculated carefully, and then aimed a ferocious kick at the soup tureen. It went flying off the table and someone hollered unhappily as soup splashed all over them.

  Pleased, Jack heaved his chair up after him and began whacking it from side to side. He could hear grunts of pain as it connected with pirate heads on either side of the table.

  “YEE-HAAAA!” Jack heard Grandmama shriek with excitement. “Take that, you scoundrels! Break into my house, will you? Think an old lady can’t defend herself? How do you like the taste of that dagger, eh? I’ve got ten more! Come and get ’em!”