Pirates of the Caribbean: Barbossa and the King's Messenger (Book 1)

Captain Sparrow's Design

Chapter Nine -- Captain Sparrow's Design

A week after I dreamt of Bootstrap, I awoke to the welcome sound of a familiar voice in the parlour. Jumping out of bed, I threw on my boy's clothes, braided my hair into something resembling a pigtail, and rushed down the stairs. To my great delight, I found Jack Sparrow in consultation with Tia Dalma over a strange bundle of clothes that lay upon the table. They turned towards me, and Jack greeted me with a broad grin.

"Hello, darlin'! By an amazin' coincidence, we was just speakin' about you!"

Steering me towards the table, he added, "I'm quite gratified indeed to see you've settled in so nicely. Beautiful place, innit? I mean, for a phantasmagorical, grotesque, foreboding sort of place, eh? I was thinking you might be ready for a quick look round the unhaunted realm. What d' ye say – fancy stepping out for a bit with Jack?"

He grinned as he made this proposal, but I was conscious of a change in Jack since last I saw him. To my eye, he was a fine figure of a man in the prime of his life, but harder now in both appearance and manner, and, in spite of his light-hearted words, betraying some unspoken worry behind his sphinx-like eyes.

"May I?" I enquired, looking at Tia Dalma.

"By all means," she replied, smiling at Jack.

"Right, then, we're all agreed!" Jack rubbed his hands together, and hoisted the bundle onto his back. "We're off," he called out over his shoulder, as he hurried me out of the door.

"Somehow I expected a bit more conversation, a few more pleasantries!" I exclaimed as he tossed the bundle into a boat.

"No point riskin' her having a last minute change of heart," he replied as he stepped into the boat and offered me his hand.

"Where are we off to?" I asked, joining him in the little craft.

"We're going where I've got to take you, so you can help your old mate discover what he needs to know, in order to sort out what he's got to do." He gave an encouraging look as he delivered this explanation.

"Lovely to see we've got no secrets between us," I said, as we steered our boat towards the mouth of the Pantano. But in spite of my chaffing, he offered no further details.

We left the boat upon the bank of the river, and walked to the shore, where Jack set out upon a sandy path leading away from the water and up into the foothills. After we had walked some distance with no sign of civilization in sight, I halted. "Where is this taking us? Are we walking all the way to the Havana? I think I'm ready for a few more particulars."

Jack stopped and we sat for a moment at the side of the path. "I admit it seems more of a trek than I thought; but this is the shortest way," he remarked. However, I was tiring of this game.

"The shortest way to . . .?" I enquired, lifting my eyebrows.

Looking into the distance, he replied, "Santiago, darlin'; we're off to Santiago."

"And the reason would be . . .?" I began to feel as if I were trying to coax a declamation from one of Tia Dalma's crab shells.

"What we need is to be in charge of some horses," said Jack suddenly, ignoring my question and spreading both hands as if bracketing his announcement.

I frowned; nothing was making sense. "So that's it? My purpose is to procure some horses?"

He threw me a most winning smile. "Now, darlin', you don't think I'd want you travelling on foot through the mountains to Santiago, do you? Just go get us some horses and Robert's your mother's brother, savvy?" As he spoke, he gave me a stare and jerked his head sideways, and I realised that several horses were grazing in a nearby field. The only man-made structure appeared to be a dilapidated shed.