CHAPTER EIGHT

The Devil in the Deep Blue Sea

JACK SPARROW LAY SPRAWLED ON HIS BUNK in the darkness of his captain’s cabin, sweating, wondering whether a few swigs of rum would help him go back to sleep. It was mid-July, and the Wicked Wench had been sailing south past the bulge of Africa for almost two weeks. From their current position, the equator was less than a week’s sail away.

It was hot and muggy in the cabin, even with the windows open all the way. Usually, Jack was tired enough at the end of a day to sleep straight through till dawn, but for some reason he’d awakened, and was unable to fall back asleep. Not long ago he’d heard the ship’s bell ring eight times. Eight bells of the middle watch; just a couple of hours to go until dawn.

He lay there, trying to relax, eyes closed, for several minutes more, before he sat up with a muttered curse. Heading over to his captain’s pantry, he pulled the door open and located the bottle of EITC-issued rum by feel. Why waste the good stuff when all he wanted was a couple of jolts to make him sleepy again?

As he stood there, the bottle in his hand, the other hand on the cork, he felt a wayward breeze brush his body from the stern window, and it felt very good. He realized where he wanted to be wasn’t back in his bunk, but up on deck, feeling the wind, beneath the stars.

Jack put the unopened bottle of rum back into the pantry and closed the door. There was no moon, and the inside of his cabin was very dark, but he knew every inch, so he didn’t light a lantern. Heading over to the chair where he’d hung his clothes, he pulled on his britches, then his loose-sleeved shirt. He didn’t button the shirt or tuck it in; it would be cooler hanging loose around him. He didn’t bother to put on shoes, or tie up his hair, only raked it back from his face with his fingers.

The door to his cabin swung open with barely a sound, and then he was walking forward, out from under the overhang. He made his way along the weather deck until he was standing forward of the mainmast, and then looked up, checking the Wench’s mains’ls. They were set as he’d ordered, to run before the wind, and were properly taut, he noted with satisfaction. He glanced forward to the bow, then back all the way to the taffrail, seeing that the ship’s running lanterns were lit, casting small pools of light on the decks, like spatters of molten gold.

Turning, he headed aft, and when he reached the ladder leading up to the quarterdeck, mounted the steps quickly, his bare feet knowing every dip and groove. As he set foot on the deck, he spoke softly, so as not to startle Roger Prescott, the helmsman on watch. “Ahoy, mate,” he said. “I see we’re making good speed.”

The helmsman swung his head quickly toward him, then nodded. “Aye, we’re running nicely before the wind, Cap’n. Is everything all right?”

“Let’s just check,” Jack said, walking over to peer at the binnacle, with its lantern illuminating the face of the big compass, to check their heading, then glancing at the traverse board with its movable pegs showing the progress of their course during the watch.

“Everything’s fine,” Jack reassured Prescott.

“Surprise inspection, Cap’n?” Prescott asked, with a touch of humor.

Jack chuckled softly. “Do I look like I’m here for an inspection?” he asked, dryly.

“Frankly, no, Cap’n.”

“Just couldn’t sleep, so I decided to nip up here and enjoy a bit of fresh air.” He walked over to stand beside Roger for a moment, feeling the light wind of the Wench’s passage on his face and half-bared torso like a benediction. “Ahhhhhhh…” he sighed. “That feels very good indeed. It’s like a midday swamp in my cabin.”

“That draft does feel good, Cap’n,” Prescott agreed. “Still, when I finish me watch, I know I’ll sleep like a babe.”

Jack had a thought, and smiled. “Tell you what, Mr. Prescott, why don’t you take yourself off and get a bit of extra shut-eye? I’ll take the rest of your watch.”

Prescott didn’t have to be asked twice. “Why, thankee, Cap’n, that’d be most kind of ye. I’ll just nip off to me hammock, then.”

“Sleep well,” Jack said, envying the old sailor a bit, but when he took the big ship’s wheel in his hands, he changed his mind. Sleep was overrated. He savored the feel of his ship beneath his bare feet, the spokes of the ship’s wheel feeling alive against his palms, the touch of the night breeze cooling his damp flesh.

Jack looked down at the sea, checking the angles of the waves, then up again, to confirm that the amount of luff in the main tops’l was the way he wanted it to be. Yes, all was right; the Wench was rigged correctly for the speed and direction of the wind.

His duty done, Jack then threw his head back and looked way up, past the sails and the spars of the mainmast. The bright star he’d been expecting to see winked at him. Fomalhaut…the Southern Fish. To his right, the Milky Way was sinking into the west, a bright swath of stars containing Sagittarius. Jack glanced to his left, knowing that Achernar was rising in the southeast, but the sails hid it from his view.

He sighed with contentment, thinking that life held nothing better than the feel of a good ship running before the wind, with a sky full of stars to guide her.

For a while he was content simply to savor the moment, enjoying this private time with his ship. The coast of western Africa lay to Jack’s left, he knew, though he couldn’t see it. As he stood there, automatically steering the ship, his mind drifted back in time, to another sleepless night, and the day that had followed it. That endless night, followed by the day when everything had changed.…

After finding One Tooth Tommy’s body, Jack had wandered around Shipwreck Cove, tired, but too keyed up to sleep. For a while he’d considered going off to find Melinda, but he’d given her the last of his money as payment for fetching Teague and his men. He hadn’t a penny to his name at the moment.

In the end he’d wound up sitting on the dock, leaning against a mooring post, feet dangling over the night-colored water, thinking about what both Barbossa and Tommy had said about the sinking of their ship. Their words created images that chased themselves round and round in his mind, like a ship caught by a maelstrom.

At some point Jack dozed off, waking with a start when sunlight crept over the peaks of the caldera to touch his face. He yawned, stretched, and rubbed his eyes, seeing the bright rays turn the water of the cove to indigo. A few puffy clouds, still tinged pink, hovered low in the sky.

Jack looked down at the water, placidly lapping against the mooring post, remembering Old Tommy’s body bumping against that same post last night. The conviction that the old pirate’s death hadn’t been, as Teague had claimed, an accident, made him set his jaw with determination. He climbed to his feet. Teague can sit around and wait for more things to happen, but there’s nothing says I have to. It’s time to get to the bottom of this, if only to prove to the All-Powerful Keeper of the Code that things really are going on under his very nose.

Realizing he hadn’t eaten the night before, Jack headed for Troubadour, where, as a sometime member of her crew, he could claim breakfast. He moved quietly through the sleeping ship like a ghost, getting his clean shirt out of his sea chest, along with his sliver of soap and his comb. He went back up to the weather deck to commandeer a bucket, then filled it with fresh water for his ablutions. He wound up scrubbing his hands several times. It was probably his imagination, but he could have sworn they were still slimy from poking and prodding the corpse last night.

After washing up, Jack shaved, changed his shirt and combed his hair, then tied his old bandanna around his head to protect it from the sun. Since Troubadour was in port, the cook wasn’t up yet, but he knew every inch of the vessel, and had no trouble foraging in the tiny galley.

Nodding to the pirate on watch, Jack headed back down the gangplank and walked purposefully along the docks, heading south. One of the docks ended only a short distance from the wall of the rocky caldera enclosing the water of the cove. Strung between the dock and the narrow strip of beach was a rickety rope footbridge. Jack strode casually along the thick cable of rope, barely bothering with the thinner, waist-high rope serving as a handrail. When he reached the end, he jumped down, boots sinking into the sand, and headed left, in the direction of the tunnel ships used to enter Shipwreck Cove.

He walked for about fifteen minutes until he reached a section of the rocky wall that jutted out slightly, concealing a rift in the rock. A narrow channel of water flowed between the cliff walls. Jack turned right, watching his step, and staying close to the rocky wall. The opening was quite narrow, only about ten feet across from wall to wall. After the first forty or fifty feet it opened up, and the water channel widened to reveal a small, hidden inlet running back into the mountain. Jack had discovered this inlet, plus several similar ones scattered around the cove, when he was a boy. He’d never shown them to anyone, until Esmeralda had been looking for a place to tie up the little dory she’d borrowed from Don Rafael, the one they used to row out through the tunnel and around the perimeter of Shipwreck Island in search of places to swim.

Jack walked along on the narrow strip of sand and rock running beside the water of the inlet. Far overhead, sunlight filtered through the rocky rift in the mountain. Straggly brush and long beach grass brushed his boots. The channel widened out until it was nearly forty feet across. The opening didn’t go all the way out to the sea, like the tunnel pirate ships navigated to enter Shipwreck Cove, but dead-ended in a perilous cliff half a mile from the entrance to the cove.

When Jack had first shown Esmeralda his secret inlet, suggesting she moor her dory there, he’d neglected to mention to her his primary reason for keeping their meetings secret. He’d been too embarrassed to admit that Teague had ordered him not to see her, because he, Jack Sparrow, wasn’t good enough for a Pirate Lord’s granddaughter. Instead, he’d merely suggested they’d have more freedom if they met secretly. Esmeralda had been delighted with the idea, and, until Christophe had followed them that fateful day, they’d enjoyed making the inlet into their private rendezvous. They’d spent a couple of mornings collecting driftwood and using it to build a makeshift platform to serve as a dock to moor the dory.

Reaching the little boat, Jack climbed into it, stowed his spyglass carefully, and untied the painter from the iron ring he’d hammered into the biggest and sturdiest of the logs. Unshipping the oars, he began to row. He’d gone only about fifty feet when he heard a cry and looked up. “Jack! Jack! Wait!”

A small figure was running down the little beach, her booted feet sinking into the sand. Esmeralda was dressed similarly to Jack, in a loose shirt, britches, and waistcoat. She carried a leather satchel over her shoulder. Beneath her hat, her long black hair was pulled up and tied at the back of her head. It waved behind her as she ran, like a black plume, or a spirited horse’s tail. Jack’s grim expression brightened. “Esmeralda!” He stopped rowing. The dory continued to glide.

She reached the small dock that extended out over the water. “Turn that boat around, and come back here,” she called. “I am coming with you, Jack Sparrow. You’re not going swimming without me!”

Jack cupped his hands around his mouth. “Not going swimming. Going rowing around the cove. It’ll be hot and dull, señorita.”

Esmeralda put her hands on her hips and stood there, her expression perplexed. After a moment, she shrugged. “I don’t care what you’re doing, or why,” she shouted back. “Come back here and toss me that painter, so I can climb in.”

Jack shrugged, turned the dory, and rowed back. As he neared their makeshift dock, he tossed her the line. Quickly, Esmeralda pulled the little boat over to her. After lowering the leather satchel in, she followed, climbing in carefully, settling onto the seat facing him. Shoving them away from the little dock, she quickly coiled the painter. “I brought food,” she said, indicating the bag.

Jack nodded, and began rowing along the inlet, heading for the cove. After a moment, he looked up at her. “It’s still early,” he observed. “What brought you down here at this hour?”

Esmeralda hesitated, biting her lower lip. “Well…”

“Yes?” he urged.

“I was coming down here to move the dory to one of the other inlets you showed me.”

Jack blinked at her. “Move it? Why?” He thought of what it would have been like to come here and find the little boat gone. That seemed a clear message, all right. He scowled at her, hurt. “You didn’t want to go swimming with me again?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “That’s not it at all!”

He regarded her inquiringly, but didn’t speak. After another minute, she sighed, then ducked her head, intently studying the toes of her boots. “I was planning to hide it elsewhere, then either find you or leave you a message to meet me, so we could go there together,” she admitted.

Jack cocked his head at her as he drew back on the oars. “Why?” he asked, finally. There was only one reason he could think of for her to do what she’d described—but he could hardly believe he was correct.

Esmeralda shrugged. “I…I didn’t want Christophe coming along,” she murmured.

I was right! Jack’s heart leaped, but he worked to keep his expression neutral. “Why, Esmeralda?”

She was staring at her boots again. “He…well, lately, he…he made me…uneasy.” After a moment, she raised her head and stared at him, her dark eyes stormy. “Jack, he pushes. You must have noticed. Lately, he never misses a chance to…touch…me.”

Jack, thinking of how those “touches” had infuriated him, nodded. “I’ve noticed.”

“Anyway, I didn’t like it. He’s too forward. And,” she drew a deep breath, “while the three of us were together, I never got a chance to talk to you.” She bit her lip, her voice going so soft he could barely hear her. “Jack, I’ve missed you.”

Hearing this, he couldn’t repress a rather foolish grin. “Oh,” he said, pulling back on the oars. As he leaned forward again, his eyes met hers, then they both looked down. What should I do? he wondered, holding the oars suspended, letting the dory glide toward the narrow part of the inlet, and the entrance to Shipwreck Cove. I don’t want to push, obviously. But she’s confiding in me. Just as a friend? He looked back up and she was still sitting there, leaning forward, her expression part anxious, part wary.

Dammit, in for a penny, in for a pound, Jack decided, and abruptly ceased rowing and unshipped the oars. “Esmeralda,” he said, meeting her eyes. Reaching forward, he took both of her hands in his. “I’ve missed you, too. You have no idea how much.”

“You did?” Color touched her cheeks, visible even beneath her tan.

“I did,” he said. “Every day. Hardly an hour went by that I didn’t think about you.”

Esmeralda smiled a little, then lowered her eyes to regard their clasped hands. A strand of black hair had come free, swinging down to touch her cheek. Slowly, she interlaced her fingers with his, then squeezed Jack’s hands slightly. “I’m glad you missed me,” she whispered. “For a while there, you were so…distant. I thought you’d changed your mind, and didn’t like me anymore.”

“Oh, no,” Jack said, softly. “Nothing could be further from the truth.” He took a deep breath. It felt strange, telling the complete truth. But Esmeralda had been honest with him, he could tell. She deserved nothing less from him. “I thought you fancied Christophe, love. So I steered clear.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise. “No,” she said, finally, shaking her head. “Oh, Jack, no.”

Jack smiled at her, then, greatly daring, he lifted her right hand up and bent forward. Gently, he kissed the back of her hand, letting his mouth linger on her skin, then pressed her palm to his cheek. He heard her draw in a breath, and felt her tremble a little. When he raised his head, he found she was still leaning toward him. Her cheeks were flushed, and her dark eyes were soft, full of promise.

Their faces were only inches apart.

Did he lean forward, or did she? Jack didn’t know. All he knew was that he could smell her faint perfume, mixed with the scent of her skin, and a hint of clean sweat. It was a warm, seductive scent that sent his head spinning and his heart racing. If she turned her head just a little…

If he turned his head just a little…

Her mouth was warm, her lips soft beneath his. As he kissed her, her lips parted slightly, but Jack reminded himself to hold back. He didn’t want to push. Besides, this kiss was sweet and perfect just as it was.

He didn’t want it to end, but he felt the pressure of her mouth ease, just a fraction, so he sat back. They regarded each other for a long moment. Esmeralda smiled shyly. “Now what?”

Jack smiled bemusedly back at her. Now I turn this dory around and row back to the beach, and we climb out and walk hand-in-hand a little farther on, until we find a nice cushiony patch of beach grass behind a screen of brush. While I spread our waistcoats and my shirt over that patch of grass, you uncork a bottle of wine. And then I unlace your—

“You said we were going rowing in the cove,” she said, breaking into his fantasy. When he blinked at her uncomprehendingly, she cocked her head at him, then, laughing a little, pulled her hands free of his. Reaching over, Esmeralda gave him a little push on his shoulder. “Wake up, Jack! What is it you English say…has the kitty pulled out your tongue?”

“Huh?” Jack blinked at her, startled. When he realized what she’d said, and why, he began to laugh. After a moment, she joined him.

Their shared hilarity grounded him, made him realize that his fantasy of finding that patch of beach grass wasn’t bloody likely. At least, not today, and probably not any time soon…Which was as it should be. Esmeralda was a lady, and one perforce spent more time romancing a lady.

Running through a quick mental tally of his acquaintances, Jack wondered which of them might lend him a bit of money. I am definitely going to go find Melinda tonight…

When he could speak again, Jack said, “Esmeralda, the expression you want goes, ‘Has the cat got your tongue.’”

“Oh!” she gasped, wiping her eyes. “My English is good, but not perfect.”

“It’s ruddy good. Better than my Spanish,” Jack reassured her. He took a deep breath, sobering. “And as to going rowing in the cove…I have something I should tell you.”

“What is it?” Her smile vanished. “Something is wrong.”

He nodded, then gave her an edited version of his time for the past two days, saying he’d been looking for the old sailor she’d seen him talking to that night in The Drunken Lady, but hadn’t found him. “So finally I gave up searching, and went for a walk out on the docks. While I was there, I saw something…someone…floating. You can guess who it turned out to be.”

“It was this man Tommy? Tommy of the One Tooth?” Esmeralda was concerned, but not alarmed. Jack could tell she hadn’t put the whole picture together yet. “That’s too bad. Poor old man.”

“Tell me, Esmeralda, did you ever talk to him? Did you meet Barbossa’s crew members after your grandfather picked them up to transport them here, to Shipwreck Cove?”

Her dark brows drew together as she thought. “No, I just saw them in passing during the voyage. I think Captain Barbossa must have warned them away from approaching me.”

Recalling that hideous little homunculus Pintel, Jack could understand that. He nodded. “It’s my guess that by the time I found him, Old Tommy had been dead for at least two days,” he said. “I examined his body after I fished him out of the water, and sent for Teague so he’d know what had happened. He dismissed it all as an accident. A drunken old sot falling off the dock and drowning.”

“Why would you examine Old Tommy’s body?” Now he had her full attention. “What happened to him? How did he die?”

“Teague was probably right. Tommy most likely drowned. But I don’t think it was an accident.”

Her dark eyes widened. “Murder?” she whispered.

Jack nodded. Shipping his oars, he started rowing again, aiming for the narrow channel that led into Shipwreck Cove. “I think so,” he said. “There were no signs of foul play on his body, so Teague decided he just fell in and drowned. I think he’s wrong. I think someone filled Old Tommy full of so much rum that he passed out, then chucked him into the cove, maybe held him under to make sure.”

Esmeralda shook her head, frowning. “But…but why?”

Shipwreck Cove had its violent side, there was no doubt about it. But actual murder was quite rare—especially the kind of clandestine crime Jack was describing. Pirates were given to more direct means of expressing their dislike or disapproval—such as running each other through in swordfights, or shooting a cheating card or dice player at point-blank range.

“Esmeralda, love, you didn’t hear what Tommy was saying to me that night, but it’s clear to me that someone in The Drunken Lady heard him ranting about what happened the night Cobra sank. I believe that person, or persons, killed him before he could tell more people about it.”

“What was he saying that could make someone want to kill him?”

“Tommy told me that he saw the captain of the attacking rogue ship that night Cobra was sunk.”

“He saw the rogue captain that night?” Esmeralda said. Jack nodded. “You mean he was saying he would recognize him?”

Jack leaned back, pulling the oars. “Yep. But here’s the most important part. Tommy told me he not only saw the rogue captain the night Cobra was sunk,” he paused for emphasis, “but he also said he’d seen him here. In Shipwreck Cove. Just a few days ago. Standing on the deck of that same sloop.”

Esmeralda put her hand to her mouth. “He was saying one of the rogues is here?” As she spoke, the dory emerged from the narrow channel, into the wide expanse of the cove, blue-green and tranquil in the early morning sun.

Esmeralda and Jack regarded the pirate hideaway in silence. Quickly, Jack counted all of the ships he could see on this side of the cove, then doubled the number. There were at least fifty pirate vessels moored at the docks, or anchored in the cove. He heard his companion counting in Spanish under her breath. “And you think one of these vessels…” she gestured at the ships as she trailed off.

“Sank the Cobra. Yes.”

“Dios mio!” she muttered.

“Yep,” Jack said. “Now you savvy, love.”

“Jack, there are—I don’t know—a dozen sloops here. More.”

“Ah, but I’m betting only one is Bermuda-rigged and has that brass bow chaser Captain Barbossa described, love,” Jack said. “Keep a sharp eye while I row.”

He bent to his task, and the little dory threaded its way up and down the ranks of moored vessels on the eastern side of Shipwreck City. It took them at least half an hour to finish checking all the sloops on that side.

“That’s half of them,” Jack muttered, as he turned the dory and headed for the other side of the small center island. “Now for the other side.”

When he reached the docks on the western side of the cove, Jack unshipped the oars to take a breather. He’d been rowing steadily for half an hour, and the tropical heat was rising. “Here, you must be thirsty,” Esmeralda said, uncorking one of the bottles of wine she’d brought. Jack gulped eagerly, then handed the bottle back to her.

She took a few sips, then recorked the bottle and stowed it away. “Let me row for a while,” she said. “Switch seats with me.”

“Wouldn’t look right, letting a lady row,” Jack protested.

“Jack,” she said, nettled, “I’m not a lady, I’m a pirate, just like you. I can row a boat as well as you can. Now hurry up and switch seats with me.”

Jack opened his mouth to remonstrate further, then closed it with a snap, as he remembered just how close one had to come to another person in order to successfully change seats in a small dory without capsizing it. He shrugged. “Who am I to argue, love?”

Keeping their center of gravity low, they wriggled past each other, until they’d reversed their positions. By the time he sat down again, Jack was still breathing fast, but for a far different—and much more pleasant—reason. He was pleased to note that Esmeralda’s cheeks were flushed from more than heat and exertion.

She began rowing along the docks, maneuvering the dory so they could get close to all of the sloops. “Barbossa said Bermuda-rigged,” Jack said. “But we’d better check them all. They might have changed the rigging.”

“If the rogue pirate captain has any sense, he’s rid himself of that bow chaser,” she said.

“Blimey! Wait a moment, love!” Jack exclaimed, suddenly. He was surveying the anchored ships through his spyglass. “There’s a sloop over there, and there’s something shiny on her bow. I can see the sun glinting off it.”

“We’ll get closer,” she said. “But not too close. We don’t want the captain seeing us and deciding we’re a threat.”

“Too right, love.”

Esmeralda began rowing for the northern end of the cove, and Jack, to make things look good, took out some bread and cheese, and the bottle of wine. She unshipped the oars, and they drifted, sharing the food and wine, for all the world like a couple of pirate lads out rowing about on a lark.

Jack took out his spyglass and swept it around, staring up at the cliffs, then back at the docks, at the towering piled derelict hulks of Shipwreck City, and then at several ships anchored in the cove. He allowed himself only a few moments to look at the sloop in question—but it was enough to accomplish his purpose. He lowered the spyglass and closed his eyes. If he’d been alone, he might have cursed a blue streak, but he wasn’t, so he confined himself to just shaking his head and muttering, “Damn. Oh no…”

“What is it?” Esmeralda asked, still rowing. “I want to see, too.”

“Wait till we’re past them,” Jack said. “We don’t want him to figure out who we are and what we’re doing.” He shook his head again. “We really don’t want that.”

She peered at him from beneath the brim of her hat. “Jack, what’s going on? You…are you all right? You look sick.” As she leaned forward, she examined his face more intently. “You look like you’ve gotten too much sun.”

“Esmeralda,” Jack said quietly, “That ship…she’s a sloop, Bermuda-rigged, just as Hector Barbossa described. And she’s got a brass bow chaser, all right. Foreign work, and it looks to be India work to my eyes. But darlin’…I know that ship. That’s Koldunya. Borya’s sloop.”

“What?” she was so taken aback she lost her grip on one of the oars, and only Jack’s quick grab saved it from slithering out of the oarlock. Esmeralda was nearly stammering. “But—but—Borya…you can’t mean the man I met! The Pirate Lord? It can’t be!”

Jack nodded grimly. “It is. I’ve sailed aboard her. I’ve rigged and reefed her sails, and gotten drunk with her crew—and her captain, too. That’s Koldunya—means ‘witch’ in Russian—and she belongs to Boris Palachnik, the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea. Borya’s our rogue pirate captain.”

Esmeralda bit her lip and rowed steadily for several minutes, until she’d reached a spot on the other side of the sloop, not too close. “Hand me that spyglass.”

“Look all around,” Jack cautioned her. “Not just at Koldunya.”

She nodded abstractedly, as she went through much the same charade as Jack had, until she finally allowed herself to focus on the sloop for a few moments. A minute later, she lowered the telescope and handed it to Jack. “Today we have seen at least eight other Bermuda-rigged sloops. It is not inconceivable that another captain captured a bow chaser of this type. So this could be just…” she snapped her fingers impatiently, searching for a word. “You know…happenchance? Is that it?”

“Happenstance,” Jack corrected. “Means coincidence. Do you really believe that, love?”

She sighed, worrying her lower lip for a moment. “No,” she said, finally. “Perhaps I might, if Tommy of the One Tooth was still alive. But if he was talking about seeing this captain, and then he is dead…” She turned her hands palm up. “Then no. It can’t be coincidence. That is not believable.”

They stared at each other for a moment. “So now what, Jack? What do we do? Who should we tell?”

Jack thought fast. “You should tell Don Rafael. And get him to tell Teague. As for me”—he leaned toward her—“switch places with me again. I’m going to row back to Shipwreck City and find Barbossa and get him to look at Koldunya’s bow.”

Esmeralda didn’t argue. They changed seats, and Jack began rowing them back toward the city with all possible speed, though he took a route that would keep several anchored ships between the dory and Borya’s vessel for most of their route.

No sooner had they tied the dory to the mooring post than Jack leaped out and gave Esmeralda a hand up onto the dock. “Head straight back to Venganza. If you find Captain Barbossa there, tell him to come to Shipwreck City and wait for me in The Drunken Lady. Otherwise, just explain to Don Rafael what we saw while we were rowing around, looking for a good spot to have our picnic, savvy?”

She nodded, and they headed off in opposite directions.

Jack plunged into the hodgepodge that was Shipwreck City. He raced up crooked flights of stairs, down narrow hallways, and leaped over uneven footing. He was surprised to discover that it wasn’t even noon yet—waking up that morning out on the dock seemed to have happened half a lifetime ago.

Shipwreck City never really slept; there were always places open where a pirate could get a drink, or a wench, or buy a weapon. But it did tend to be at its lowest ebb before noon, because of all the roistering that went on by candlelight. Jack’s boots thudded loudly as he ran along a corridor, causing several denizens to poke their unkempt heads out of doors, demanding to know where the fire was.

Jack shouted, “Sorry, mate!” back a time or two, then quit bothering, saving his breath for running. He yanked open the door to every tavern, drinking hall, gaming den, and bordello he passed, shouting, “Captain Barbossa!” and giving a quick glance inside.

The most polite response he received was, “Who?” Usually it was some variation on that theme, accompanied by various curses and suggestions that were anatomically unlikely, if not downright impossible.

He was nearly to the top of the towering hulk of derelict vessels when he found him. Jack flung open the door to Fanny’s brothel, gave a quick, abstracted “G’morning, love,” to Fanny herself, who was sitting in her parlor, alone, wrapped in a flouncy negligee and eating an apple. She looked up in surprise, rouge smeared, hair hanging in her eyes, but said nothing as he thrust aside the rug hanging over the next door as a token privacy screen, and ducked to enter a narrow corridor. Tiny rooms opened off it. Jack began opening them, sticking his head into each one, and then pulling it back out with a quick, “Sorry, wrong room.”

Most of the male occupants didn’t even wake up.

Jack opened the door to the last chamber but one, stuck his head in, then, with a pleased “Ah!” inserted the rest of himself. He’d recognized the enormous old cartwheel of a battered hat from the tangle of clothing dumped beside the bed. “Captain Barbossa!” he cried, verifying the identity of his sleeping quarry. “Wake up!”

Barbossa’s plump, copper-haired bedmate sat up, squeaking in surprise, then began fumbling to pull the sheet up over her ample charms, thus effectively diverting Jack’s attention for a crucial moment. He didn’t realize the bed’s other occupant had roused until the tip of a sword blade touched his Adam’s apple and a gravelly West Country accent growled, “I’m Barbossa, and I don’t think ye’ll be the one givin’ the orders here, boy. Not if ye want to keep breathin’. Now who are ye, boy?”

Jack swallowed reflexively, trying not to move his throat much, and rolled his eyes away from the captain’s bedmate—who had finally succeeded in yanking up the sheet—to the man before him. He essayed a tentative smile. “Good morning, Captain Barbossa. I’m Jack Sparrow. We met last month, remember? I…I have important news for you.”

“Ye do, do ye?” The tip of the blade didn’t move so much as an inch, as Hector Barbossa sat up in the bed.

Jack couldn’t nod, because of the sword tip, so he said, in his most earnest tones, “Yes, I do, Captain. Very important. You need to hear this. Quickly.”

“Jack Sparrow…” Barbossa’s weathered features, beneath his grizzled, graying hair, frowned slightly. “I remember ye now. They say Captain Teague is yer—”

“Yes,” Jack interrupted hastily, “Captain Teague commands Troubadour; it’s his ship I serve on.” Greatly daring, he put up a finger, and very lightly touched the edge of the blade. “I’m unarmed, Captain. So, if you wouldn’t mind…” He mimed pushing the sword aside. He didn’t want a split finger.

Barbossa growled, low in his throat, but grudgingly moved the blade to one side a crucial few inches.

A plump, good-natured face, topped by fetching coils of copper hair, appeared over the captain’s shoulder. “Oh, Jack, it’s you. I almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes…” She broke off, giggling. “Good morning, love.”

“I’d forgotten how delectable you look in the morning, Sophie,” Jack said, gallantly. He kissed two fingers at her, sending her off into another fit of good-natured giggles.

Barbossa ostentatiously cleared his throat. “So why were ye looking for me, Jack Sparrow?”

“Captain.” Jack made as if to lean closer, then mimed pushing the blade aside again. When he was closer to Barbossa’s ear, he breathed, “I believe I’ve found the vessel that sank Cobra. I’d like you to come with me and see if you can identify her.”

Barbossa’s reddened eyes widened. With a curse that sounded more like an animal’s snarl, he began donning his clothes. Within moments he was stamping his feet into his tall boots with their folded-over cuffs, while clapping his huge old hat onto his head. Tossing a few coins over his shoulder at Sophie, he strode out of the tiny room without a backward glance, Jack at his heels.

Barbossa paused in the corridor. “What’s the fastest way out of here?” he demanded.

“Follow me, Captain,” Jack said, leading the way.

When they reached The Drunken Lady, Jack motioned the captain to follow him in. “We might be able to see her from here…ah! There!” he pointed out the window, open to catch the morning breeze. “She’s the sloop farthest to port.”

Barbossa stared at Koldunya, eyes narrowed. “I see her…Bermuda-rigged sloop…yes. And I can see something bright on her bow…catches the sun…” He blinked, then shook his head. “Me eyes aren’t what they used to be, Jack. Looks like the same ship, but I can’t be sure. Have ye a spyglass?”

“I do,” Jack said, eagerly, then his face fell. “I left it in the dory,” he admitted. “But we can be there in just a few minutes.”

“Aye, let’s hurry.”

Jack took to his heels, racing past Steve and Marie, who were standing behind the bar, gazing at them, their mouths open with astonishment to see two pirates enter their establishment and not order anything to drink.

Barbossa thudded after Jack as the younger man ran through the crowded warrens of Shipwreck City, down, down…until they emerged outside one of the entrances.

Jack didn’t want to call attention to their mission, so he slowed down and headed for the dock at a brisk walk. When they reached the dory, he was relieved to see the leather satchel was still shoved beneath the seat, and, beneath it was the brass cylinder of his spyglass. He yanked it up, then dodged back and forth on the dock until he had a clear line of sight to Koldunya. Placing the eyepiece to his eye, he located the ship, then turned the barrel to bring the bow into focus. The brass cannon sprang into his view.

“There she is,” Jack said, pointing, handing the spyglass to Barbossa. “Sight right past that schooner there.”

Barbossa fixed the spyglass to his eye, and moved it slightly, searching to bring the sloop into view. His fingers moved on the barrel, focusing it…focusing…

Jack blinked as he saw the sun flash off something on Koldunya’s bow. What was that? he wondered, instantly alert.

Barbossa had finally focused in on the sloop. “Aye,” he said. “Riggin’s the same. Looks like the same ship…and on her bow…”

Jack saw the flash again and suddenly realized what it was. Someone on Koldunya’s bow was looking at them through a spyglass!

“Damn and blast!” exclaimed Barbossa. “I’d just started to get a look at that brass bow chaser, t’see if it was the same one, but now it’s gone!” He added a string of more colorful terms, one or two in languages Jack didn’t recognize.

Jack grabbed the spyglass, and, after refocusing it, he cursed, too. “There’s something dark covering it now,” he reported. “They’ve hidden it. While you were examining the ship, I saw a flash from a spyglass. Someone aboard the sloop saw us watching them.”

“Didn’t see the bow chaser clear enough to be sure,” Barbossa said. “But that sloop is a dead ringer for the one what sunk me ship Cobra—and killed me little Polly. What son of Hades owns that hell-begotten ship?”

Jack grimaced. “That’s Koldunya,” he said. “It belongs to Borya Palachnik. The Pirate Lord.”

Barbossa’s eyes widened. “Borya? Can’t be! I’ve known him for years! I’ve gambled with him, gotten drunk with him more times than I can count. He wouldn’t…would he?” Barbossa hesitated for a moment, then slammed his hand down onto the hilt of his sword. “Damn me for a simpleton,” he muttered, half to himself. “The little butcher always did love gold,” he added. “The soulless little blackguard.”

Unable to think of anything to say, Jack merely shrugged.

“Borya favored sloops. Liked vessels that didn’t draw much, and could sail rings around bigger ships. So it all fits, in a way.” He glared at the distant sloop.

“What fits?” an all-too-familiar voice asked.

Jack looked up to see Captain Teague standing there, with Don Rafael just behind him. Esmeralda was standing behind her grandfather.

Barbossa began to explain, and Jack was happy to let him summarize the situation. Teague would certainly believe Barbossa, an experienced pirate and a captain, long before he’d believe Jack.

When Barbossa reached the end of the comparison between Koldunya and the ship that had attacked him, Teague said, “This isn’t proof of Borya’s guilt. Just having a Bermuda-rigged sloop—even one with a brass bow chaser—proves nothing. It could be coincidence.”

Jack, who had stepped back, and was standing behind Barbossa, glanced over at Esmeralda and rolled his eyes.

“Seems like a farfetched set of coincidences t’ me,” Barbossa said. “I’d like to look Borya in the eye and ask him whether he attacked and sank me ship.”

“And do not forget Old Tommy of the One Tooth,” Esmeralda said.

“What happened to One Tooth Tommy?” Barbossa barked. “He was part of me crew.”

“Jacky boy found him floating in the cove last night,” Teague replied. “Face down. He thinks his death wasn’t accidental.”

Barbossa turned and regarded Jack with eyes that seemed to bore right into him. “Poor old Tommy. He never did get over that night Cobra went down. Sent him right round the bend, it did. He was always babbling about having seen the devil aboard that sloop. Is that what he told ye?”

“Yes,” Jack replied. “He was drunk, of course.”

“Old Tommy was always drunk,” Barbossa said. “The man could climb riggin’ and reef canvas in a blow when he was three sheets to the wind. Never saw him sober.”

“He told me he’d seen the devil that night Cobra sank,” Jack said. “But then he announced that he’d also seen him here, in Shipwreck Cove. That’s why I started looking for a Bermuda-rigged sloop.” He took a deep breath. “I think someone heard him talking about what he’d seen, and killed him to silence him, later that same night.”

Barbossa and Don Rafael traded glances. “Captain Teague,” Don Rafael said, “I believe what we’ve heard just now justifies a search of Borya’s ship.”

Teague’s seamed, normally impassive features tightened slightly. He glanced at Jack. “What made you decide to go out rowing around the cove today, looking at sloops, boy?” he asked. “And how did you wind up with Don Rafael’s dory?”

Jack took a deep breath, trying to think fast, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“I loaned Jack my dory, Captain Teague,” Esmeralda said. “And when he told me why he wanted to row around, I decided I wanted to go with him. I’m glad I did. Jack wasn’t the only one to get a good look at that brass bow chaser. I saw it, too. I think Captain Barbossa has the right to ask some very pointed questions.”

Teague’s glance flicked to Jack quickly, letting him know he wasn’t off the hook, but when he spoke, he merely said, “Very well. Don Rafael, Captain Barbossa…I would like you to accompany me.”

A short time later, Jack stood with Esmeralda, watching as Teague’s heavily armed men rowed a longboat out to Koldunya. “I wonder what they will find,” Esmeralda said.

“I’ll wager the contents of me sea chest that there won’t be a brass bow chaser aboard that sloop,” Jack replied, glumly.

Passing the spyglass back and forth, Jack and Esmeralda took turns following the progress of the longboat. When it reached the sloop, Teague stood up in the bow, and, within a minute or two, was addressing Borya. Shortly after, the three captains climbed up the ship’s ladder and went aboard.

They were gone for a considerable time. At length they reappeared, and climbed back down the ladder into the longboat. But this time, they had added another man to their party.

“Borya’s with them!” Jack said, looking through the spyglass. “They’re bringing him back here.”

“Let me see!”

While she peered at the longboat, Jack studied the sky, then licked his finger and held it up. “Wind’s changed. It’s picking up. Big storm coming,”

The longboat glided quickly through the water. Seeing that the longboat’s destination was several docks away from the one where they’d tied the dory, Jack and Esmeralda ran to get closer. By the time they reached their destination, Teague and the others had already tied up and debarked. The Keeper gave low-voiced instructions to his men, who scattered. Another armed contingent of Teague’s men climbed into the longboat and began rowing out to the sloop. Jack guessed Teague had dispatched them to make sure Koldunya did not weigh anchor and attempt to flee.

Teague led the other captains toward Shipwreck City. By now they’d collected an ever-growing crowd of curious onlookers. Jack and Esmeralda followed the crowd, trying to get closer, listening.

“Teague’s apparently called for an official court of inquiry,” Jack said to Esmeralda, low-voiced. “Evidence will be presented to the Pirate Lords here at Shipwreck Cove.”

By now it was early afternoon. Jack and Esmeralda followed the crowd inside Shipwreck City. Teague led the way. “He’s heading for the Great Chamber,” Jack said, when they stayed on the first level of the warren. “Here, I know a shortcut.”

Grabbing her hand, he led her off down an alley so narrow they had to squeeze sideways, then down several empty corridors. Finally, he reached a door. Two of Teague’s men were already there, standing guard. Jack nodded to them, and they opened the doors, admitting the young pirate scions into a large, oval chamber that held a raised dais at one end. In the middle of the dais stood a battered “lectern” made from half a ship’s door, mounted on a thick chunk of a mast at the proper height for a speaker. Several long benches, perhaps liberated from churches, stood in rows on each side of the dais.

The chamber was obviously the hollowed-out holds of two large vessels placed side by side. Overhead, one could still see the curved ribs that had been supports for the old planking and decks. Huge old masts, sawed in half, served as pillars to hold up the ceiling.

Ancient benches and chairs filled the rest of the chamber, randomly scattered, leaving a broad aisle running up the middle. Jack guided Esmeralda over to the side of the second row. “We should be out of the way, here, but still get a good view,” he said.

“Do you think you’ll have to give testimony?” she asked.

Jack shrugged. “Not if Teague has anything to say about it.” Hearing an edge of bitterness in his own voice, Jack shrugged and laughed, lightening the moment. “Who knows?”

As they waited for the Pirate Lords to assemble, Jack and Esmeralda shared some bread and cheese from her satchel, and uncorked the bottle of wine.

Within a few minutes, the chamber started to fill. Pirates, tavern wenches—anyone and everyone was admitted to the chamber, though no weapons were permitted. Pirate society was democratic, though it did have its own form of “aristocracy,” evidenced by the Pirate Lords, who entered with their guards. The guards were unarmed, too, but each of them was a bruiser that Jack wouldn’t have cared to meet in an alley—or on the heaving deck of a ship during a battle.

Mistress Ching, Pirate Lord of the Pacific, Villanueva, Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea, and Don Rafael, Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, entered the chamber. Captain Teague, who was Pirate Lord of Madagascar, as well as Keeper of the Code, entered last, with Borya Palachnik. Two guards flanked the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, though Borya wasn’t under restraint.

Teague took his place behind the lectern, and nodded to the burly guard accompanying him. With a grunt, the guard hefted a huge old book, the size of a small hatch cover, onto the top of the lectern. Dust drifted into the air when the book thudded into place.

Then Teague gave a low whistle.

“Why did he do that?” Esmeralda whispered to Jack.

Jack smiled and held a finger to his lips. “Wait,” he whispered.

A minute or so later, a dust-colored mongrel came trotting down the central aisle, holding a ring of jingling keys in its mouth.

Esmeralda looked at Jack, shrugging and turning her hands up in a very Latin gesture of incomprehension. Jack chuckled. “That’s Teague’s prison dog,” he murmured, into her ear, enjoying the brush of silken hair against his nose. “He keeps the keys to everything, including the dungeons, for Teague. I grew up with that mutt…it was one of my chores to feed him. Dog has a taste for rum—but only the good stuff.”

“You grew up with—” Esmeralda looked from Jack to the dog and shook her head. “How old is that dog?”

Jack breathed a laugh. “I was gone for several years when I was in my teens,” he said. “Teague must have gotten a new dog during that time. But I swear, this one looks and acts exactly the same as the mutt he had when I was a just a little shaver.”

Esmeralda obviously didn’t know whether to laugh or not.

The prison dog trotted up to his master, and reared up against the lectern, presenting the keys. Gravely, Teague removed the ring from the dog’s mouth and unlocked the massive book. Then he handed the ring back to the dog.

“That book is the Pirate’s Code,” Jack said. “Some of it goes way back.”

Teague solemnly knocked a small cannonball against the top of the lectern. Silence fell immediately in the chamber. “The question has been raised,” he said, “regarding whether the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea has broken the Code by knowingly targeting and sinking other pirate ships. This inquiry will hear evidence to discover the truth. I call as first witness—Captain Hector Barbossa.”

Barbossa stood up from his seat in the first row, and approached the dais. Mounting the step up, he stood and gave Borya a long, searching glance, then turned his back on the little pirate to address the Pirate Lords and the assembly. The captain summarized the story of what had happened to him and his ship, then spoke of how his memory of the attacking vessel exactly matched the ship Borya called Koldunya. He mentioned being told of the brass bow chaser, and seeing something shining on the bow of Borya’s ship, then added that he was unable to confirm it was the same weapon that had caused such destruction to his Cobra.

Barbossa went on to say that, although he, Don Rafael, and Captain Teague had searched the sloop from the bilges on up, they’d found no sign of any brass weapons. “She did have a bow chaser, right enough,” the captain concluded. “But it were a regular iron nine-pounder, painted black.”

Jack watched Borya as he sat on the opposite side of the dais, between the two guards. The undernourished little pirate appeared the same as always, with his wispy gray hair and beard, spectacles hanging around his neck, and his odd clothing. He listened to what was being said with interest, but he did not appear in the least worried or concerned. He looked so normal that Jack found himself wondering whether it was all just coincidence. Maybe Borya was innocent?

When Barbossa had finished with his testimony, Teague nodded to him, and he returned to his seat. “I call as second witness—Jack Sparrow.”

Jack was relieved to know that Teague wasn’t going to just dismiss Old Tommy’s death as unrelated. Still, it was strange to mount that dais in front of all those eyes. When he reached the spot opposite Teague, the Keeper of the Code nodded at him to begin.

Looking out over the crowd would only add to his unease, and Jack didn’t want to look at Teague, of course. Or Borya, either. He couldn’t help remembering all the times he’d spent with the Russian pirate aboard his assorted Koldunyas, picking up pocket money by doing chores. Borya would always ruffle his hair and praise him for being a smart boy. Jack hadn’t received much in the way of approval while he was a lad, and those words had stayed with him.

Taking a deep breath, Jack fixed his eyes on Esmeralda. Looking at her made him feel as though he could get through this, and that he’d be fine. He launched into his account of running into Old One Tooth Tommy, realizing who he was, then actually listening to what the drunken old pirate was ranting on about.

Then he told of how he’d looked for Tommy the next day—and the next—without finding him, or finding anyone who had seen him. Finally, he finished by recounting how he’d seen the body floating in the black water of the cove—and of the conclusions he’d reached after pulling the corpse out and examining it.

When he’d finished, Teague said, “Can anyone confirm your account that you met and spoke with One Tooth Tommy?”

“Yes,” Jack responded, steadily. “Captain Christophe de Rapièr of La Vipère came to the back of the room to get me when it was time to escort Lady Esmeralda Maria Consuela Anna de Sevilla back to her grandfather’s vessel, Venganza. The Lady Esmeralda was present, and saw me speaking to old Tommy.”

Teague looked out across the crowd. “Is Captain de Rapièr present?” he called, raising his voice so it carried.

“I don’t see him, Captain Teague,” Jack said.

“Very well. Lady Esmeralda,” Teague turned to where she was sitting on the side of the chamber. “Is his account accurate?”

She rose in her place. “I could not hear what was being said,” she spoke steadily, “but I saw Jack Sparrow sitting with Old Tommy of the One Tooth, talking, just as he reported.”

“Thank you, Lady Esmeralda,” Teague said. He turned back to Jack, and Jack suddenly realized what he was about to ask. Damn Teague! He’d do anything he could to make me look bad in Esmeralda’s eyes. He bloody well knows who I was with! She came to get him last night!

“Can anyone confirm what you reported regarding finding Tommy’s body?” Teague asked.

Jack took a long breath. “Yes,” he said, keeping his voice steady and free of anger with an effort. He realized he was clenching his fists, and forced himself to uncurl his fingers. “Melinda was with me when I found the body.”

“Melinda?”

“She works for Granny Martha,” Jack replied. He was afraid to look at Esmeralda, so he unfocused his eyes and stared at nothing.

“Is Melinda present?” Teague called out.

There was a rustle several rows back, and then Jack saw Melinda standing there. The trollop curtsied low to Captain Teague. He was, after all, the equivalent of pirate royalty. “I’m Melinda, sir.”

“Was this account correct?”

“Aye, ’tis, sir. Jacky found the body floatin’ just as he says he did. Horrible sight, it were, sir.”

“Very well.” Teague inclined his head to Jack. “Now, describe the events of today.”

Jack reported how he’d gone out rowing in the dory with Esmeralda, looking for evidence that Tommy had actually seen “the devil’s ship” anchored in Shipwreck Cove. He finished by confirming that he’d clearly seen the brass bow chaser.

Teague again asked Lady Esmeralda whether Jack’s account was accurate. Jack was afraid to look at her when she stood up, but as she began to speak, he forced himself to meet her eyes across the chamber. “Yes, Captain Teague,” she said, steadily, “Jack Sparrow reported exactly what happened today. I looked through the spyglass too, and I clearly saw a brass bow chaser on Koldunya’s bow.”

When she finished speaking, she gave Jack a faint smile. He smiled back, light-headed with relief. Teague nodded curtly at Jack when she finished. “You may step down.”

Jack went back to his seat. As he settled in beside her, he looked at her and whispered, “I…I thought you might be…angry…”

She met his gaze. “Jack, you keep forgetting. I’m a pirate. I know pirates. Now hush. I want to listen!”

Teague was speaking to the assembled crowd. “Is there anyone present who saw or spoke to One Tooth Tommy after he left The Drunken Lady on the night in question?”

There was a shuffling in the back of the chamber, and then a tall, skinny, ferret-faced man wearing a black eye patch was standing there. “I saw him, I did,” he said. “I knowed it was Old One Tooth Tommy, seein’ as how we was shipmates, you know.”

Jack, who had turned around in his seat, like the rest of the assembly, narrowed his eyes as he took in the man sitting next to the speaker. It was that repugnant manikin…what had Melinda called him? Pintel, that was it.

“State your name,” Teague commanded.

“Ragetti, sir,” the pirate said. “I sails with Cap’n Barbossa.”

“What did you see, Ragetti?” Teague asked.

“I seen Old One Tooth, I did. I was lookin’ for me friend, Pintel—” he looked down at the bald pirate next to him, who gave him an excited glance and grinned broadly. “And I seen him. Tommy was walking…well, more like lurchin’ y’know, behind someone. They was headed down the corridor, the one what leads out of Shipwreck City to the docks.”

“Who was with him?”

“Dunno, mate,” said Ragetti, then at a glance from Teague, the one-eyed pirate swallowed and amended, “Uh, sir. He was ahead of Old Tommy, mostly through the door when I seen ’em. I didn’t get a good look. Tall as me, I think. He were wearing a hat, and it was night, so I couldn’t see his face. What I mostly saw was his coat sleeve as he held the door for Tommy to follow him. Pretty color. Turquoise, they calls it. Like a lagoon. Ladies, they like to wear that color.” He giggled. “’Cept of course, this was a man’s coat. Sir.”

Jack rolled his eyes. Great. In the country of blind fools, the one-eyed idiot is king.

“Thank you; you may be seated,” Teague said. He turned to Borya. “You have heard the evidence presented. What do you have to say?”

Borya stood up. He shook his head regretfully. “I say I am innocent, Captain Teague. I am victim here, not Barbossa. Victim of malice and lies. Those two,” he indicated Jack and Esmeralda, “are lying, da? Why, I know not. Perhaps boy took girl off to make loving with her. Afterward she is afraid to be caught by Don Rafael, so they lie about why they are out rowing in dory. I only know I have no brass bow chaser aboard my vessel, never had, never, no matter what young bastard and pretty strumpet claim.”

A murmur ran through the assembly. Up on the dais, Don Rafael tried to lunge to his feet, only to be pulled back down by Villanueva and Mistress Ching. Jack felt himself coloring—especially when he remembered what he’d been thinking that morning after he and Esmeralda had kissed. But, dammit, they hadn’t done anything! He glared up at the little Pirate Lord, wishing he had his pistol. Borya, you sodding liar!

Esmeralda didn’t blush. She went pale with fury, right down to her lips, which were pressed tightly together.

Teague banged the cannonball for quiet. As soon as it was restored, Borya spoke again. “As for this Old Tommy…hah! Ridiculous! Old drunk falls into cove and drowns. Is not first time, will not be last time. And anyone here who wishes to call Borya Palachnik tall, that person may borrow my spectacles, da?” He took off his specs and waved them in the air.

A murmur of laughter ran through the chamber. Jack and Esmeralda didn’t join in, nor did the Pirate Lords.

Borya continued, as soon as it died down. “You say Borya is evil rogue pirate because he has Bermuda-rigged sloop, da? Hah! How many Bermuda-rigged sloops in this world, I ask you? Hundreds…maybe thousands, Captain Teague, Keeper of Code. You know this. So do I. As for Captain Barbossa…Hector, you have been my friend many years. I am sorry you lost Cobra. Sorrow, they say, can affect the mind. Loss of your beloved vessel has made your mind…what do they say…unhinged. Sorry I am for your suffering, Hector, my friend. But is not my doing.”

Borya sat back down on his bench, crossing his arms on his chest, to all appearances completely relaxed, even bored, by the proceedings.

Silence reigned.

For once Teague seemed uncertain of what to do next. He stared down at the Code of the Brethren book, as if it might give him some answer, but he did not open it. Finally, the Keeper turned to the Pirate Lords. “What say you?” he asked.

Don Rafael rose to his feet. “We must get to the truth of this,” he said. “The reputation of the Brethren Court—and my granddaughter—depends on our finding the truth and dealing with those who have flouted the Code. I believe extreme measures are called for. There is one who will know the truth. We must summon him.”

Jack looked questioningly at Esmeralda, and she returned the glance. After a moment they both shrugged.

Teague regarded Don Rafael for a long moment. “There is precedent,” he allowed.

Mistress Ching said, forcefully, “The first Brethren Court made the alliance with Captain Jones, and that right has been passed down through the ages, to the assembled Pirate Lords. I was present when Jones was summoned, many years ago. It is not something we should do lightly. Does this situation warrant a summoning?”

“I believe it does,” Don Rafael said, stoutly. “These rogue pirates threaten our freedom, our way of life. They have brazenly defied the Code. We must act.”

Jack glanced at Borya and saw that the little Pirate Lord was sitting there, still expressionless, but now he could see tension bunching the muscles in his jaw and the cords in his neck. He was pale, and his face shone greasily in the light of the lamps. He’s sweating, Jack realized.

Teague regarded the other Pirate Lords. “Let the majority rule. Don Rafael votes aye. What say you, Mistress Ching? Villanueva?”

Villanueva wiped his face on his sleeve. “He could give us the answer, there is no doubt,” he said. “But to call him here…” He trailed off, and shuddered.

Don Rafael leaned over and said something to him privately. Villanueva looked unhappy, but then said, steadily enough, “Upon reflection, I vote aye.”

Mistress Ching pursed her lips. “Perhaps it is because I have experienced his presence before, as Villanueva has not, or perhaps it is because I cannot see him…” She smiled grimly. “But I believe that if one of us has broken the Code, we must know. I vote aye.”

Teague nodded. “I agree, and also vote aye. We will summon Davy Jones. But to do so, we must reconvene aboard Troubadour. He cannot set foot on dry land, save for once every ten years.” The captain turned to his guards. “Bring Captain Palachnik.” Then he addressed the assembly. “All witnesses, you are ordered to accompany us. The rest of you, remain behind.”

Jack and Esmeralda fell in at the end of the procession that left the Great Chamber, behind Melinda and the one-eyed Ragetti. As they made their way through the corridors, Esmeralda grabbed Jack’s arm, and he could feel her nails even through the fabric of his shirtsleeve. Her voice was harsh, filled with apprehension, though she kept it low. “Dios mio! I can hardly believe what I just heard in there, Jack. Davy Jones? Have they all gone mad?”

“They sounded sane to me,” Jack said, dryly. “But, then, I believe in Davy Jones.”

“You do?” she was amazed. “Have you seen him? You are saying that there is a real Davy Jones, that he is not just a sailor’s legend? Not merely a…what is the English term…a figure of speech?”

“I’ve never seen him, but he’s real,” Jack replied softly. “I’ve heard too many sailors talk about seeing his ship in bad storms. But I have no idea why they want him to testify, or why he’s in some kind of agreement with the Pirate Lords.”

Esmeralda’s dark eyes were wide. “Davy Jones…is real?”

Jack nodded. “He is. He sails on some kind of ghost ship. The Flying Dutchman.”

She thought for a moment. “But Davy Jones…that is not a Dutch name.”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe he stole the ship? Your guess is as good as mine.”

As they stepped out of Shipwreck City, into the open air, Jack realized that his prediction of a storm rising was coming true. Cool wind gusted against him, and when he glanced at the water in the cove, it was white-capped.

By the time the group reached Troubadour, rain was beginning to spatter. Teague led them up the gangplank, then down the ladder to the relative shelter of his gun deck. Even though the gun ports were open, the sky had grown so dark they could barely see to make their way down. Teague’s men quickly lit lanterns, hanging them on hooks. Even anchored, the ship was rocking back and forth. Outside, cold rain began pelting down, occasionally blowing in through the open gun ports. Jack and Esmeralda sat down on the barrel of one of the portside cannons, out of the way. In the center of the deck, Teague gestured for the Pirate Lords to form a circle. Jack repressed a shiver as he recalled some of the conjuring rites he’d seen Tia Dalma perform. What would this bit of magic be like? He listened intently.

“Are we ready?” Teague said, and each Pirate Lord nodded assent. “Begin.” In the flickering lamplight of the swaying deck, the four Pirate Lords spoke quietly, in unison, “Davy Jones…we, the Pirate Lords of the Brethren Court, call you. By our alliance giving us power over the sea, binding the queen in her bones, we entreat you. Come to us, Davy Jones. We summon you. We summon you. We summon you.”

Through the open gun port to Jack’s left came an eye-searing flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by a huge clap of thunder. Esmeralda started. Jack blinked—

—and when he opened his eyes again, Davy Jones was present, standing in a pool of shadow between gun ports. It was as though he’d always been there.

Jack heard Esmeralda gasp, then felt her tremble. He put his arm around her, drawing her against him. The gesture was made in all innocence; seeking only to give, and receive, simple human comfort, in the presence of something monstrous.

Davy Jones was monstrous.

Jack had seen some pretty weird manifestations in his life, mythical beings, ghosts, and eldritch creatures that seemed to have come from realms no human had ever trod. But none of them had prepared him for Davy Jones.

That face…it was a face out of some opium eater’s worst nightmare. It was as though a man had stretched the skin of a squid and thrust his face into it so deeply that the human features—eyes, nose, mouth—were molded through the sea-creature’s flesh. Tube-like tentacles writhed down from the lower half of his face, in a bizarre parody of a man’s beard. He wore a hat, and ragged, once elegant, clothing, but the garments could not disguise the fact that Jones’s limbs were as distorted as his face. His right leg and left arm terminated in claws, like those of a lobster. His right arm ended in, not a hand, but a writhing mass of tentacles. Only his booted left leg seemed human-shaped.

There was no sound on the gun deck save for the crash and boom of the storm outside.

Jones stepped forward, into the light of the lantern, his human foot thumping in its heavy boot, his claw landing with a click. Esmeralda pressed her hand to her mouth, but made no sound. Someone—Jack thought it must have been Villanueva—moaned softly. The tall, skinny Ragetti gibbered quietly. In a sudden rustle of skirts, Melinda fainted, collapsing onto the deck.

The monster spoke. “I am here.” Jack listened to the voice with amazement. It was human. Jones spoke with a thick accent. Scots, Jack realized.

Teague moved a step or two forward. “Thank you for honoring our summons, Captain Jones,” he said. “We Pirate Lords face possible treason in our numbers. You are lord of the sea, so we know you will be able to tell us”—the Keeper of the Code waved a hand at Borya, who was restrained from bolting by the guards’ hold—“whether this man, Borya Palachnik, has been committing wanton slaughter on the seas…sending you many souls.”

Jones moved over to face Borya…thump, click…thump, click…thump, click. He halted, leaning forward, tentacles writhing, barely a foot away from Borya, who cringed backward. Pale-faced, the brawny guards held him fast.

Several of Davy Jones’s facial tentacles stretched out toward the scrawny Pirate Lord, as if somehow they could scent him. Jones abruptly nodded. “Yes,” he said, turning back to Teague. “He is the one. He has sent me many dead for more than a year now. He commands others. There are seven captains under his command, and they all send me souls. Mercy is something they know not. Their ships bring only death.”

Don Rafael stepped forward. “We thank you for your assistance, Captain Jones. Borya has broken the Code, and yet he dared to dock his ship in the cove. We will send him to join you, and soon.”

“Good,” said Jones, biting off the word as though the thought was a tasty treat.

Jack had no idea that he’d even moved until he found himself on his feet, only a few feet away from Davy Jones’s back. In some ways, the back was as bad as the front, because the hood of the squid lay flopped over Jones’s collar, pulsing gruesomely. Jack cleared his throat. “Excuse me, um, Captain Jones. What about the brass bow chaser?” he heard himself saying. “What did Borya do with it?”

Jones whirled around—he moved fast for such a huge, towering figure. His eyes focused on Jack in a burning glare. Jack forced himself to remain still, feeling as though his soul was laid bare for those eyes to examine—and sneer at. “Who are you?” Jones demanded.

“I’m Jack Sparrow,” Jack replied, amazed that his voice emerged almost normally. “I was—am—a witness in this matter. Captain Jones, you know what happened to that cannon, I’m sure, because you know everything that happens in your domain.”

Jones nodded, almost grudgingly, still studying Jack, seeming surprised that the young man had the nerve to stand there and ask him a question. “You are correct, young Sparrow,” Jones said, after a second. “Captain Palachnik’s brass bow chaser now lies at the bottom of Shipwreck Cove.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jack said, finally allowing himself to back away. He almost stepped on Melinda, who was beginning to stir, so he crouched down, helping her to sit up. She took one look at Jones, then buried her face in her hands and didn’t move.

Don Rafael spoke up again. “We all thank you, Captain Jones, for coming to us today, to help us find the Code-breaker and traitor among us. We will deal with him, and seek out the others who operate under his command.”

“They are to be found on many seas, dealing death,” Jones said. “Except for the other one who is currently present here, in Shipwreck Cove.”

“Another Code-breaker? In Shipwreck Cove?” Even Teague betrayed emotion—surprise and dismay.

“Aye,” Jones said. “That one sent me the one you call Tommy, two nights ago.”

“What is his name, Captain Jones?” Don Rafael asked.

“He is not present,” Jones said. “If he were, I could tell you his name. I know only the ship he sails, when he sends me dead. A fine brigantine.”

Jack looked up at Davy Jones, his breath catching in his throat. A brigantine? La Vipère was a brigantine, and a fine ship she was. But she was just one of perhaps half a dozen such vessels currently moored or anchored in Shipwreck Cove. Jones can’t mean Christophe, he reassured himself, and glanced over at Esmeralda, seeing his own thoughts reflected in her expression.

Jack looked back at Davy Jones, just as the monstrous figure turned away from the humans. It took one stride. Thump, click.

Then, between one moment and the next, Jones was, simply…not there anymore. Vanished. Gone.

Teague turned to face Borya. “Boris Palachnik,” he said. “This Court of Inquiry finds that you and your crew have broken the Code of the Brethren. The Code is the law. The penalty for all of you is death.” The Keeper of the Code paused for a second, then said, “This Court of Inquiry is concluded.”

Jack stood up, then motioned to the trembling Ragetti to assist Melinda to her feet. Walking back over to Esmeralda, he stood beside her. Neither of them spoke. He looked out the open gun port, seeing that the sky was growing lighter. The rumble of thunder was now muted by distance. The storm was in retreat.…

A gust of cool wind caressed Jack’s face. He blinked, realizing he’d been standing there, steering the Wicked Wench, lost in memory. Looking to his left, he saw a faint lightening in the eastern horizon, and was reminded again of that time on Troubadour’s gun deck.

For a moment he could almost feel the way Esmeralda had openly clutched his hand, still so shaken that she hadn’t cared who saw her doing it. Don Rafael had seemed to understand, because he’d stopped and spoken to his granddaughter. “I am sorry you had to see this, corazón.”

“I am all right,” Esmeralda had replied, her voice, steady. “I am glad we now know the truth.”

Don Rafael had then turned to Jack. “Señor Sparrow…Teague dismisses you as a mere boy,” he’d said, gazing at him thoughtfully. “But I disagree. Only a man could have stood his ground and heard Davy Jones speak his name.” He’d inclined his head to Jack in a gesture of genuine respect, and then walked away.

Jack sighed. So many memories…some good, some bad, and so many that were bittersweet. He glanced east again. Dawn was on its way.

The remainder of the trip back to Calabar was uneventful. Jack continued to train his crew, so they’d be prepared in case of a pirate attack. The constant drilling of the gun crews was paying off in faster loading and better aim. And the entire crew practiced several times a week with hand weapons, so they could load and fire pistols, as well as handle a cutlass. They still fought like merchant sailors, not trained soldiers, but they were improving. Lucius Featherstone and Etienne de Ver, who had both seen action while in their respective armies, proved very useful to Jack’s efforts, once he enlisted them as instructors—as long as he was careful to keep them far enough apart that they didn’t wind up dueling with each other over some fancied slur, something that happened more than once.

The unrelenting heat continued as the ship rounded the bulge of Africa and turned east. Several times, Jack wound up hanging a hammock on deck and sleeping in it. On the afternoon of their last full day of sailing, as they came within spyglass view of the coastline, Jack suddenly decided there was no need to rush into Calabar Harbor after dark. He gave the order to reef sails and drop anchor.

He and Robby stood there, watching the crew busy themselves with the anchor and the sails. The Wicked Wench came to a halt, and the crew climbed down from the rigging.

“We’ll anchor out tonight,” Jack said. “Give the men a chance to rest up, then sail into Calabar tomorrow morning, when everyone’s fresh and it’s not so bloody hot.”

“Don’t count on it being any better tomorrow,” Robby said, loosening his neckcloth. Removing his tricorne, he fanned himself vigorously with it. “I hope we can get loaded and back out to sea quickly. Calabar town is going to feel like a stewpot, with us as the solid bits.”

Jack laughed. “I fear you’re right, Robby. But for now…captain’s privilege. I’m declaring myself on leave, and I’m going to cool off.” He walked purposefully over to the railing, where he began shucking his clothes.

Robby followed him. “You’re going in?”

“Yes. Lower a ladder and post an armed watch, in case anyone spots any bloody sharks. I haven’t had a good swim in two months, and I’m spoiling for it.” Unbuttoning his sweat-damp shirt, he pulled it off and dropped it onto the growing pile of clothes, as Robby gave the order.

Jack waited until the ladder was dropped and the crewman posted with a musket, before he stripped off the rest of his clothes and climbed up onto the railing. “Besides,” he added, over his shoulder, “maybe this will save me from having to take another bloody bath, if Mr. Beckett takes it into his head to invite me to lunch again.”

With a swift, graceful motion, he dived off the rail.

Jack hit the blessed coolness of the water and it was a benediction. Tossing his hair out of his eyes, he waved up at his crew. “It’s great!” he shouted. “Come on!”

Few of his crew could swim, but several of the men, including Robby, did climb down the ladder. Jack was pleased to see Chamba paddling around, with Robby and Second Mate Connery coaching him on how to move his arms and avoid getting water up his nose.

Jack swam a little distance away, his strokes strong and powerful. Following an impulse he hardly questioned, he surface-dived, stroking down into the water, feeling it grow colder the farther he swam from the sun. It was a different world, he thought, opening his eyes, and peering down. Down there, it was cold, and the pressure could pop a man’s eardrums—or even his lungs, if he were foolish enough to dive too deep.

This was Davy Jones’s realm. Jack remembered that face, and those words the Pirate Lords had spoken. The legends said that if a man were dying out here, on the water, that Captain Jones would come to him, and speak his name…just before death.

Jack shuddered suddenly, realizing the blood was pounding in his ears, and that the sunlit surface seemed far away.

Quickly, he reversed direction, and began stroking back for the surface. His head broke the water, and he inhaled a huge gulp of air, feeling his lungs move, his heart pound. He’d never felt more alive than he did in the water—except perhaps when he was with a woman.

“Captain! Jack!” a voice shouted, sounding a bit frantic. He whipped his head around, to see Robby waving at him. He’d managed to swim farther away than he’d thought, and clearly, Robby was getting nervous.

Jack turned around, waved back, then began swimming back to the Wicked Wench.