Wild Waters (3 page)

C
aptain 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!

I
n 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!

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!”

Jack was sorely tempted to aim his chair in the direction of her voice, but somehow he was sure she would know it was him, even in the dark. And he had no desire to meet her daggers—he’d run afoul of them quite enough as a young lad.

Something whizzed past his ear and he ducked, wondering what Grandmama was throwing now.

Who was attacking them? The enemy fought in eerie silence, melting in and out of the shadows. Every “oof!” and “OW!” Jack heard sounded as if it came from his own crew. Who were these dangerous, powerful fighters that had struck so suddenly?

Was it Benedict’s army, back again? Surely they couldn’t have caught up to the
Pearl
so quickly. Not only that, but the Royal Navy tended to be a lot noisier about their battles. Lots of clanking and pistols and yelling orders and so on.

Suddenly, Jack felt a hand clamp around his boot. Startled, he whipped his other foot around and kicked his assailant in the face with a loud crunching sound. The hand released him and he heard a thud as the person hit the floor. “Sorry,” he called over the battle sounds, hoping it wasn’t a friend he’d just whacked (he wouldn’t mind if it were family).

What if these were King Samuel’s men? Jack ducked as something else flew over his head. He danced across the table, trying to tiptoe around the food platters while knocking pirates over the head as he went. Why would King Samuel be attacking Captain Teague’s house? Perhaps he’d heard that another Pirate Lord was here and wanted to test his mettle. Jack preened for a second before realizing that didn’t make much sense—again, how would he have gotten here so quickly?

Then something tugged on Jack’s long dreadlocks, and he felt a stab of fear in his gut. Worst of all…what if they were being attacked by the Shadow Lord? He could be anywhere, anytime, as far as Jack knew, and it made sense that his army would prefer to fight in darkness. Perhaps these were his deadly shadow warriors, sent to stop Jack before he could find another vial of Shadow Gold.

Jack remembered the carnage they’d seen in Panama—the smoking town and lifeless bodies left behind after the Shadow Army attacked.

From what Alex said, it sounded as if they could appear and disappear like smoke, destroying everything in their path.

His heart hammered in his chest, and he took a careful step back to the center of the table. Whoever they were fighting, he had his own demons to fight as well. His shadow-sickness always got worse in the dark, as the shadows gathered gleefully to pull on his braids and clamber along his coat. His shoulders felt heavier and heavier, weighed down by the shadows piling onto his back. Nausea built up in his stomach, and he fought a wave of panic.

Jack took another step back, away from the fighting, and felt something solid brush against his shoulder. He jumped and flailed and nearly sliced his sword through it before he realized what it was…one of the bronze lamps hanging from the ceiling over the table.

An idea struck him. If they were fighting shadows, what better to fight them with than light? Or at least they could get a look at who they were dealing with. It would be nice to know if he was kicking his own people in the face.

Jack threw the chair in his hand out into the room, where it landed on someone who yelped in pain. He fumbled through his coat, searching for a tinderbox. He knew he had one somewhere in his pockets…no, that was his folding spyglass…a handful of gold coins…something that felt like a hairball—where had
that
come from?—and then, finally…

“Aha!” he cried in delight, whisking the tinderbox out of his pocket. Quick as a wink, a flame flared between his hands and he set the oil of the lamp ablaze. In just a few steps he was able to do the same to the other two lamps.

As light filled the room, all the battling pirates stopped fighting and shielded their eyes for a moment. Blinking, they looked around in surprise.

They were not fighting shadows after all. The fierce strangers who had burst through the windows were men—tall, muscular men with long daggers and very piratical outfits. Jack squinted. A few of them looked oddly familiar.

“Jack Sparrow?” said a voice behind him.

Jack whirled and spotted the leader of the attack. His mouth dropped open.

“Gombo!”