Chapter Five

**We're beggars and blighters and ne'er-do-well cads.

Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!**

"I thought the British Navy wouldn't dock in a Spanish port," Elizabeth said. She lowered Sparrow's spyglass and handed it to him. They were still a league out of Santiago de Cuba, the nearest port to Jamaica. Sparrow's small boat, it turned out, had fresh water, but no other provisions, forcing them to sail, hungry and grouchy, to the nearest port. She had believed that to be Port-Au-Prince, and had been startled when Sparrow had steered north, for the Spanish island of Cuba.

Sparrow frowned into the spyglass, seeing what she had seen: a Navy warship flying the British flag and a white pennant, moored safely at the Spanish docks.

"That's interesting," he commented. He continued to study the harbor, saying nothing further.

Impatient, Elizabeth turned away and took a drink of water from the butt. She was unaccustomed to going hungry. She was also unaccustomed to being cramped, dirty, and sunburned, conditions that seemed to have no affect on her companion. She was determined not to complain, but she had had to struggle to keep her temper. To make matters worse, though she had been proud of her "sea legs" since she had crossed from England as a child, in this small boat she had been regularly sick every morning they were at sea. Still, she was encouraged by the nearness of land, and she waited to hear what Sparrow planned to do.

He put the spyglass down, and rummaged in a sack. He pulled out a black cloth and handed it to her. "Put this on," he said.

Elizabeth took it, puzzled, and turned it over in her hands. It proved to be something like a shroud, and with it, a veil. "Jack," she asked, "you keep women’s clothes in a sack?"

"Disguises, lass, disguises."

"Why do I need a disguise?"

"One . . ." he said sternly, but with a glint in his eye, "because the soldiers on that ship may have been through Port Royal, and you were the belle of the ball there."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Sparrow continued.

"And two . . . because this is a Spanish town, and Spanish women wear these."

"Have you worn it? And pretended to be a woman?"

Sparrow tipped his head back and smiled at the reminiscence. "Oh, yeah," he said.

Elizabeth found the front of the garment, and slipped it on over her dress. She worked at adjusting the veil.

"Tell me," she asked.

Sparrow laughed. "Some other time," he said. "Now, let’s go get us some breakfast. And maybe," he added, "a little pilfering on the side."

II

Sparrow beached the boat up the coast from the harbor, screened by overhanging foliage that draped down from the bank. Elizabeth helped him de-mast the boat, and the two of them scrambled cautiously up to more level ground and looked around for a path. Nearby stood some dilapidated shacks such as fishmonger's wives used in Jamaica to clean and prepare the catch.

Sparrow selected his route, set his hat at a jaunty angle, and stuck out his elbow at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth took it, gingerly.

"I’m to be your wife, I take it?" she asked, dryly.

"My silent wife," he said, "unless you parlez Spanish?"

"No," she admitted. "Do you?"

"Sí," he said.

"Or," he continued, "my beautiful daughter. I’m trying to arrange a profitable marriage for you. Who shall he be? A wealthy merchant? A military officer? No, not a military man, I think." He looked sidelong at her. "A craftsman, perhaps?"

"Try that Jack, and I’ll open my mouth and blow your disguise."

"Ah, my poor mad daughter, who only babbles in what she thinks is English. Your value on the marriage market will plummet."

"Someone will understand English, and I’ll tell them I was kidnapped by this notorious pirate, and there will be a reward for my return."

"All right, all right, wife it is, then."

As they neared the town, they saw more buildings and people. Elizabeth looked with interest; she had seldom seen towns beyond Jamaica, and never a Spanish one. The architecture seemed at once more opulent and more shabby than what she was used to. The men, she observed, wore clothing more flamboyant – in fact, more like what Sparrow wore. She studied her companion and saw how easily he could pass for a Spaniard, in looks anyway.

As they began to pass people in the street, Elizabeth felt suddenly vulnerable. She couldn’t speak the language, she was completely dependant on Sparrow, and she didn’t seem to be of much help to him. She suddenly wondered why he had brought her along, and a kind of panic began to settle in her breast.

And then she smelled food. Meat, cooking. She felt the sudden tension in Sparrow's body, too. All her attention focused on food. She had had not a morsel to eat in two days, and Elizabeth didn't know how long Sparrow had gone without food before she had fed him in the jungle. Without a word, they both turned left, Sparrow swaying slightly at the sudden veer, and chose a street that opened into a market square. They homed in on the vendor selling skewers of cooked meats - fowl, beef, pork, and fish.

In moments, Elizabeth was devouring one of each. Sparrow actually paid for one for each of them, but somehow hid six more in his coat. Elizabeth resolved to ask him about that - later. Right now they both ate greedily, drifting along the edges of the square, passing other vendors from whom Sparrow casually lifted bread, bananas and pastries, and handed them off to Elizabeth. Her spirits buoyed by the simple joy of eating, Elizabeth wanted to giggle at the needless pilfering.

One side of the square was open, leading down to the harbor. Again without discussion, they meandered that way, found a large rock on the slope, sat, and observed the harbor, still eating. Most of the harbor was edged with docks, and armed Spanish soldiers sat or lounged on many of them. Elizabeth wondered if there were more guards than usual due to the foreign warship in the port.

"Pretty ship," Sparrow said, licking his fingers. "I'm glad they're here. I know how the Navy loads their supplies."

"Jack, you mean to steal supplies from the Royal Navy?"

"The Pearl needs provisioning, lass."

"You've got a pocketful of gold. You can buy provisions."

Sparrow gave her an affronted look. "Buy? I never buy what I can steal, m'dear. You may not think much of my profession, but contrasted with respectability, it is comparatively honest. Take those barrels, now …" He directed her attention to a stack of crates and barrels on the loading dock near the ship. "Those on the outside will have salt beef for the crew. But in the middle on the bottom is the good stuff. Pastries and sweetmeats for the captain's table. He'll have them there so the men don't see what they're missing. I ask you, is that honest? You'd never get away with that on a pirate ship. Equal shares for everyone."

He tipped his head, straying from the subject. "Well, the captain gets two equal shares, actually."

"But why is that ship here?" Elizabeth wondered.

"It's a puzzle, I grant you. Most of the British Navy should be hunting me in the Bahamas, by now."

"Why is that?"

"While I was in Port Royal I delivered a forged report saying the Pearl had been sighted out east."

Elizabeth considered that. "So, I take it, the Black Pearl isn't to be found in the east anywhere."

Sparrow gave her an alarmed glance, and said nothing.

"You sent the Navy to the east at the same time you got my gold to use for repairs and supplies. The Pearl is out west somewhere, isn't she? What's more, you cleared the western waters so they could safely sail somewhere to meet you."

Sparrow sighed. "Child, you know, now I have to kill you."

"Nonsense. It's your own fault for boasting. All you have to do is keep me with you, which is what you've been doing anyway. Why is that, Jack? I thought I'd have to bribe you with rum to get you to bring me along."

"You had rum?"

"If you fill that boat with provisions, there won't even be room for me. You can sail the boat by yourself; what did you bring me for? I was in no danger from the soldiers; I could have stayed behind and told them you forced me to go along as a hostage."

"All the time we were at sea, you had rum?"

"Could we stay on the subject, here?"

"Do you still have rum?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Yes, I have a bottle in my bag. You may have it if you'll tell me the truth. Why did you bring me?"

"Well, obviously lass, if my alter ego was looking for Will to direct him to the Isle de Muerte, it wouldn't be long before he thought of trying you, particularly once Will proved impossible to get. Both Norrington and Will were gone from Port Royal, so who would protect you? I even heard your father was gone."

"He was called to London to explain his failure to do anything about the pirate threat. He may even be replaced as governor."

"Ah. Ahem. Anyway, I brought you along to keep you safe."

"And two, to keep my information safe."

"It's the same thing, isn't it? Couldn't we just stick to number one?"

Before Elizabeth could retort, she spotted something that made her gasp.

"Jack!" she cried, grabbing his arm.

He arched an eyebrow at her, and looked down at her hand.

"That ship! See the afterdeck? Dolphins!"

"Aye," Sparrow replied, eyeing her with caution.

"That's the imposter ship! The survivors of George Town - their Black Pearl had dolphins on the afterdeck!" Elizabeth paused, momentarily appalled. "It's a Royal Navy ship. How could they?"

"How could they, indeed?" Sparrow asked, looking at the ship. "Their figurehead is nothing like ours, and that's what most people would notice."

Elizabeth found herself regretting her hasty conclusion. She really didn't want to believe a Navy ship could commit the atrocities that were attributed to the Black Pearl. "You think it's a coincidence? Maybe the same carpenter put dolphins on two ships?"

"Maybe," Sparrow mused, "but it's a bloody great coincidence. That ship is built just like the Pearl, and I've been curious how the imposter avoids the Navy scrutiny she stirs up against us."

"It's like a disguise," said Elizabeth. "Somehow she changes back and forth."

"Very bad luck, to change a ship's name. That should work for us." Sparrow stood. "Come on, time to appropriate some provisions."

Elizabeth joined him, looking back at the ship. "You know who they are and you're still going to steal from them?"

"All the better," Sparrow said, flashing a metallic smile. "One thing I want to know, though, love."

"What's that?" she asked as she took his proffered arm.

"When were you plannin' on tellin' me this bit of information?"

"Oh, uh, when I could find a way to leverage it, I suppose."

Sparrow nodded, and set off. "Well then, we'll figure I owe you one."

III

Elizabeth lay flat in the boat, covered with a canvas. Sparrow towed the boat along the coast, walking or swimming, as needed. As they approached the turn into the harbor, Sparrow submerged, breathing through a long straw. He slowed their progress to the speed of a drifting boat, inching almost imperceptibly toward the docks that edged the harbor. The wait seemed to take an age, to Elizabeth, but finally she felt the shadow of the dock pass over her and she dared to peer out from beneath the canvas. The tide was high, so the space between the rim of the boat and the wooden planks of the dock was barely enough for her head. Once the boat was largely out of sight, Sparrow picked up his pace, still towing the boat from underwater. Elizabeth watched the tip of his breathing straw as it bobbed ahead of the boat.

The boat halted, for no reason that Elizabeth could see. Above her, two Spanish soldiers sat talking, their shadows blocking the striped sunlight that filtered down to her. Sparrow's head appeared in the gloom ahead of her. He turned to her and winked. Then, silent and sinuous, he drifted to the edge of the dock, held himself in position with one hand on the planking, and snaked his other hand, holding a knife, up and around the side of the boards. Elizabeth held her breath, watching fearfully out across the harbor, but the port was large and busy, and few people were in position to notice Sparrow's hand. A moment later he drew his hand back down and placed a leather purse in the boat with her, its strings cut. Then he submerged again and returned to their forward progress.

They reached the pier where the Navy ship was docked, and Sparrow moved them directly underneath the pile of barrels and crates. Here the headroom was a little higher, almost enough to allow her to sit up. Above her, feet tramped and pounded, and voices called out directions, some in English, most in Spanish. Sparrow surfaced on the outboard side of the boat, draped his arms inside, and rested, waiting. Wet and dirty, he looked as comfortable as an alley cat on a garden wall.

The men above them deposited their burdens, making the pile even broader; then most of them retreated. Sparrow nodded at her. Now was the time. The tide kept the boat far too high for Sparrow to climb in without rocking it so violently that it would thump against the dock. It was her job to hold the boat still. She lay on her back as far from his side as she could, tilting his side of the boat up slightly. She reached out for a firm grip on a post, and carefully raised her feet to brace them against the underside of the dock. The ship rang five bells, and under cover of the sound, Sparrow hoisted himself into the boat and lay flat on his stomach while they listened for any indication they had been noticed.

When nothing happened, Sparrow gave her a gamine grin, rolled onto his back, and hauled the boat into slightly better position, by pulling on the slats above. She handed him the hacksaw he had stolen on their way to the boat, and he began to saw the planks. Carefully and with patience, he removed the wooden slats beneath the center of the pile. Extracting the barrels was a slow, heavy process, as each barrel removed changed the pitch of the pile above. He waited, sometimes holding a barrel or crate in place on his shoulders, until the dock workers were away, before slowly lowering his booty into the boat. Elizabeth helped as best she could, bracing the boat against his leverage. Even her part was hard work.

When he had four barrels and two crates stored side by side in the boat, Sparrow replaced the sections of the dock he had removed, placing them crosswise across the hole. Elizabeth lay on the barrels, to disguise their shape, as Sparrow covered them all with canvas. He lashed the canvas down, as if for bad weather, and placed coils of rope and other gear on top of the whole. Elizabeth found a small tear and put her mouth to it, for air.

They returned the way they had come, slowing painfully once they were clear of the dock. At every moment, Elizabeth expected to hear the alarm raised, as their laden boat appeared to drift from the harbor. The alarm never came, and finally Elizabeth heard Sparrow surface and climb ashore. She was dying to call out to him, but managed to hold her tongue. She was also drenched in perspiration and fighting claustrophobia, but she dealt as bravely as she could with that, as well.

Eons later, the boat halted, and Sparrow said softly, "All clear, love." Elizabeth emerged, her hair hanging like limp noodles in her face, and promptly leaped into the cool, murky water. Sparrow was grinning at her when she surfaced, but held a finger to his lips to quiet her exuberance. Nodding, she joined him in uncovering their gear and adding it to the boat.

Then, exhausted, they both flopped down on the muddy bank, beneath the overhang.

"What now?" Elizabeth asked. She couldn't quite believe she had just committed such an outrageous act of larceny.

"The rum."

"What?"

"Come now, this calls for celebration. Let's see that bottle."

Shaking her head, Elizabeth produced it. Sparrow admired it respectfully before opening it and drinking deeply.

"Won't they be looking for us?" she asked. It didn't seem a good time for him to be drunk.

"Maybe, maybe not. Come nightfall, we put the mast up and make our escape." He drank deeply again. "Ah, Mrs. Turner, your pirate husband would be proud." He held out the bottle to her.

"Would he?" She gave a rueful laugh, and accepted the bottle. "Oh, Jack, Will's not very piratical. He's gone off to hunt and capture you." She took a small, ceremonial swig of the vile tasting liquor and handed it back to him.

Sparrow gave her a narrow-eyed searching look. "He'll be all right, that one," he said.

"I know! I'm not worried about him," she protested.

He smiled knowingly and looked out at the horizon.

"I have to make one more venture into town before we go," he said.

"What for?"

"To visit the money-changers. I need this gold to be money. You'll have to stay here, love. The Spanish don't allow women at the money-changers."

Elizabeth frowned. "They don't?"

"It's a whole other world, lass." He tipped his head and bottle back and finished the rum. "You guard the supplies. My crew is hungry. It's my job to provide for them." He buckled on his sword, donned his coat and hat, and started up the bank.

Elizabeth regarded the empty rum bottle, from which she had taken only one small sip.

"Jack!" she called, softly.

"Aye?"

"Don’t do anything stupid."

For some reason, he found that very funny.

Chapter Six

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