Ocean Eagle
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Gulf of Mexico, March 1776
“What does it mean?” Captain Rennick demanded of his chief mate.
“It means that the Spanish will know we are in this part of the Gulf,” said the young officer standing to the captain’s right. “It could be a sign that they have found us.”
Rennick stared at him for a moment before turning back toward the chart table, where he had been studying a report from one of his captains.
The ship’s course was not far off what it had been when first sighted by the Spaniard, but now that he knew it would be there in three days’ time—with no warning—the captain’s mind turned toward how best to avoid discovery as they passed into the straits on the north side of Cuba.
The problem with this approach lay in his lack of information about the Spanish squadron, which had only appeared six weeks earlier after months and even years of silence. There were only rumors concerning its strength or whereabouts, so Rennick was forced to consider all possibilities.
He needed more detailed reports about the disposition of the ships in order to devise his plan of action, but since those reports did not come quickly enough for his taste, he had taken matters into his own hands and ordered one of his captains to sail his ship directly toward the Spaniards while sending out a second vessel to act as an early warning system for his own ship.
It seemed the most logical choice, though it required him to make some very risky decisions if the Spanish were indeed coming.
“Do you think they’re coming here?” Rennick asked the first lieutenant, who sat next to the chief mate.
The first lieutenant shrugged, then reached down to pull at the string of beads that hung around his neck. “We won’t know until we see them.”
Rennick nodded absently, his gaze still fixed on the map.
He looked up when he heard footsteps behind him. When he saw who it was, his jaw clenched involuntarily.
“Sir.”
A tall man with thinning hair strode past, dressed in the blue coat and breeches of an ensign. He carried himself like a soldier, which was understandable considering he was one, but Rennick also noticed that he had a tendency to look down at his feet and shuffle from foot to foot whenever he stopped walking.
This is Lieutenant Davenport, Rennick realized, though he still didn’t know why he had been given command of Ocean Eagle. At least his men respected him—more than they respected any of the other officers who had served aboard during the last year. Still, Rennick wished his junior officer would try to stand taller and walk a little straighter, especially when he stood near his captain.
Rennick held out his hand. “Welcome, Mr. Davenport. Thank you for joining me.”
The officer took hold of the captain’s extended hand, though he kept his head lowered so as not to appear too proud. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’ll find everything in order below decks, I assume?”
Davenport smiled. “Yes, sir. Everything is exactly as it was left.”
“I hope you have been given an opportunity to familiarize yourself with the ship? You should at least know how to read a compass.”
Davenport straightened slightly and nodded. “I’m well versed in reading compasses, sir.”
“Good! That will help greatly with your navigation. Now, if we can just learn where our quarry is going…”
The captain glanced back toward the chart table again. “If he knows we are here, the Spaniard will have to take a different course.”
“Yes, sir.”
“In fact, he will probably change his entire strategy,” said the captain. “He’s got to think we’ve been sent by King George to hunt him down. So he may decide to move faster and farther south…and possibly head for Jamaica…”
“Or Bermuda,” added Davenport.
“Yes,” said Rennick. He leaned against the side of the table, his hands clasped together. “We will see, I suppose, but we must stay vigilant until then. We are on their home ground now and they will expect us to make a run for land once we enter the straits. They will probably have a lookout posted high up on one of the cliffs overlooking the entrance to the bay.”
Davenport frowned. “Why do they want to hide in this area if it’s such a good hiding place?”
Rennick sighed. “They’re pirates, Mr. Davenport. Pirates always seek the easiest way to get their prey.”
“But what makes them think there’s a good chance of catching the Spanish fleet? If they could find them in the open seas, they surely can find them here!”
The captain shrugged. “Perhaps the Spaniards doesn’t know that many people go through these waters every day; perhaps the Spanish don’t care that much because they figure that no one will be coming this close to their own island. And if no one comes, that means fewer enemies.
The Spanish are not stupid. They will not let us sneak up on them unawares. But if they don’t watch closely, they will be lulled into complacency.”
“What if they aren’t?”
“Then we will have caught them completely off guard—that’s the only time anyone ever gets a decent surprise,” said Rennick. He pointed toward the top of the stairs leading down to the forecastle deck. “Mr. Davenport, if you would show Mr. Rennick to the captain’s cabin.”
“Very good, sir.” Davenport bowed his head briefly before leaving the chart room.
Rennick watched the young man disappear from sight, then turned his attention back to the chart table. He studied the charts for several minutes, trying to discern some clue to help him determine whether or not the Spaniard intended to turn back northward and follow the coast around Bermuda or continue south through the Strait of Florida.
It was difficult to tell, however, because all three of the charts were identical. They showed a vast stretch of ocean, dotted with dozens of islands that stretched far inland. There appeared to be no clear path through the channel between the two large isles, though the distance seemed short enough to suggest that either one could provide a suitable haven for a ship of war.
Rennick wondered how it was that none of these maps showed any sign of human habitation in this region. Was it possible that no one even knew about it? He had assumed the Spanish knew everything there was to know about the New World since they had been living among its inhabitants for so long. Perhaps it was simply another of their many secrets.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he stared at the maps, then looked out through the port-side windows and across the water at the distant horizon. His gaze fell upon an island off in the distance: St. John’s Cay. He knew of it, though he had never visited the small, barren cay located almost due south of Tortuga.
It had been used by pirate ships to take on provisions during their raids on Spanish ships, but Rennick knew that was only part of the reason the Spaniards called it cursed. Many of those who had sailed there never returned, and others disappeared after visiting.
Some swore they had seen strange lights moving in the sky above the isle…and that those lights were not friendly. Others claimed to have encountered ghosts walking along its rocky shoreline. Rennick had heard other stories, too. The island had a dark past, and many men had died there while searching for treasure.
His thoughts drifted to Jack. Where was he right now? What was happening aboard the Pearl? Had he gotten his ship into the Caribbean yet? Did he know where the Spanish fleet was? The answers to those questions, like most others in Rennick’s mind, were unknowns.
All he could do now was wait and hope that his crew found their quarry soon and brought the treasure back safely to Port Royal.
***
It was just after sunrise the following morning when Jack, still feeling the effects of his long night of drinking, climbed out of his bunk in the quarterdeck hammock and made his way to the main deck. His head throbbed and his mouth tasted foul, and despite his best efforts, he felt sluggish.
Jack was surprised to see that the Pearl was already underway, sailing north with no apparent destination in mind. He guessed that Rennick had been unable to catch sight of the Spaniard last night and was now taking her farther away from land, hoping to increase their chances of being able to pick up their trail again once they reached the open sea.
Jack stepped over a coil of rope lying on the deck and stopped to look back at the rigging. He had spent more than two months at sea, learning all about sailmaking. He’d done all of the work himself, spending endless days hunched over the mast, working with sails.
Even though he hadn’t realized it at the time, he had come to view sailing as something sacred, something worth risking his life for—not that he was willing to actually die anytime soon.
But there were times when he was alone on deck in the early hours of a dark night when the wind was strong and the sea was smooth when his spirits lifted, and he began to believe that perhaps there might be better things in store for him than merely becoming another pirate.
At those moments he saw a future full of adventure. And he envisioned himself returning home with a chest filled with gold that would make his mother proud and secure his financial future well into his old age. Then she’d know what he’d been doing with her money, and they’d talk about it together over a bottle of rum.
She’d be happy for him, and maybe someday he would find a wife who could share his dreams. For the first time since he had left London, he allowed himself to dream of something different, something good.
As he gazed out onto the water toward a patchy fog rising from the surface, his reverie was interrupted by shouts from below decks. He turned to look and saw that a group of pirates was gathered near the aft rail. Jack squinted against the bright sun and moved closer, wondering if he should be concerned.
A large man, wearing only a shirt and a pair of breeches, stood before them, gripping the railing tightly. “The Spaniard! They’re close!” He pointed across the water to a point somewhere to the east.
Some of the pirates laughed as they glanced up at one of the tall masts that jutted out from Pearl’s stern, but Jack’s gaze remained fixed on the sailor. Something about him seemed familiar.
“What do you mean ‘the Spaniard’?” he asked.
The pirate turned to face Jack, grinning widely.
Jack shook his head, trying to clear it. “You can’t mean…that’s—” He broke off as the realization hit him, and he took a step forward, eyes widening. It couldn’t be!
But it was.
It was Spaniard!
He was standing just below the bow, leaning heavily on the rail and staring straight ahead, apparently unaware of anything else around him. Jack watched as one of the men leaned in closer to whisper something to him, but he ignored the comment completely.
Jack felt a strange mixture of emotions wash through him: excitement and fear and joy and even disappointment that they weren’t meeting under more peaceful circumstances. But mostly, he was struck with the sudden thought that if ever there was an opportunity to get rid of this particular Spaniard forever, this was it.
“Captain,” he called out to Rennick as he drew closer, ignoring the sailors who stared at him with open mouths and widened eyes.
Rennick was walking along the main deck, gazing out across the ocean ahead, his hands clasped behind his back and a smile playing on his lips. As he heard Jack’s voice, he turned to look down at him, his face betraying nothing except mild interest.
Jack stepped closer, moving past several pirates and making his way alongside Rennick until he stood directly next to the captain.
“I have a word of a Spanish ship,” Jack said.
Rennick smiled wider. “Is she near?”
Jack nodded. “She’s right here, aboard this ship.”
Rennick frowned at Jack, then glanced back out over the water. “How did you know?”
Jack shrugged and held his breath.
Rennick looked back at Jack with surprise, but then he laughed. “You’ve been listening in on my private conversations!”
Jack nodded, feeling relieved. “Yes sir, I have.”
Rennick grinned broadly and reached out to pat Jack on the shoulder, which sent a chill up Jack’s spine. Jack knew that Rennick would not have spoken so casually if he wasn’t confident that Jack would keep his promise. Jack was also sure that Rennick wouldn’t have told him anything if Jack hadn’t proven himself trustworthy over the months of their partnership.
“Well, Captain Jack, let me congratulate you again,” Rennick continued. “It seems that we will be leaving together after all.” He raised his hand and clapped Jack lightly on the shoulder as he turned away. “Perhaps when we are done killing the Spaniards we can discuss a reward!” he added as he walked off toward the quarterdeck.
Jack followed silently behind, thinking hard. It was obvious that Rennick planned on joining the fight soon, but he hadn’t mentioned it to any of the crew yet. In fact, Jack wasn’t even certain if Rennick was aware that there was a battle coming—or that it was a battle at all! If Jack was going to take advantage of this opportunity, it had to happen quickly.
He needed to convince Rennick before they were too far out to sea.
Jack hurried through the crowd, keeping an eye on Rennick as he made his way through the ship. At last, he caught sight of Rennick on the quarterdeck, talking animatedly with some other crewmen. Jack moved in closer, hoping that the captain wouldn’t notice him.
Jack listened for a moment while the conversation grew heated. “There’s no way I’m giving her over,” a man with a long black beard spat out angrily as he jabbed a finger toward the Pearl.
Rennick looked over at Jack, and Jack gave him an encouraging nod. Rennick smiled back at Jack with satisfaction and turned back to the group of men, saying something to them in a tone that seemed to defuse the dispute.
Jack smiled at the memory—he’d managed it! The plan was working! Now all he had to do was find a good time to spring it on Rennick.
Jack moved closer to Rennick as he spoke, trying to appear casual.
“I don’t think we can trust those two,” a man in a dirty brown shirt whispered as he gestured toward the Pearl. “They might have been lying.”
“No,” another replied. “It was a trick. That is why they wanted us to go down onto the beach and see what we could see.”
Another pirate laughed and pointed at Jack. “See? I told you. He was spying.”
Jack tried to ignore the insults, but it didn’t help that Rennick was smiling at him as he spoke.
“I believe we should continue to listen in,” Rennick said, turning his attention back to the men around him. “It seems that our friends from Spain aren’t quite as trustworthy as we had hoped.”
Jack leaned close to Rennick and spoke softly into his ear. “The Spaniard has been spying on our plans since the beginning of this voyage.”
“What?” Rennick exclaimed as he spun to look at Jack, his expression instantly changing from anger to confusion.
“He’s one of yours,” Jack whispered. “A spy.”
Rennick’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”
Jack nodded. “I heard him myself. But I thought you might want to know before they found out and tried to kill you.”
Rennick stared at Jack for a long moment, then began chuckling nervously as he shook his head. “You certainly have developed an uncanny ability for knowing what I need to hear!” He looked over at the Pearl with a smile. “But how did you know about that?”
“I’ve seen him before,” Jack answered, nodding toward the quarterdeck where the man had been standing. “You must have hired him from your last voyage.”
“You’re right,” Rennick agreed, still laughing as he turned back to Jack. “How did you know he was a spy?”
Jack shrugged. “Maybe because he’s not Spanish.”
Rennick burst out laughing again, slapping Jack on the shoulder. “That is priceless!” He turned toward the others and shouted, “Who else thinks we should keep our ears open and eyes open during the upcoming battle?” A resounding cheer went up from the crewmen gathered on deck. Rennick clapped his hands together loudly and shouted, “Excellent! Excellent!”
Jack waited until most of the crew had dispersed before approaching Rennick again. As he got close, Rennick put a finger to his lips, shushing Jack. Then he motioned for Jack to follow him. They walked down the main deck and climbed the steps to the forecastle. There was only a single seaman present—a sailor cleaning the ship’s wheelhouse, but he kept quiet as they stepped past him.
Rennick led Jack up onto the quarterdeck and stood at the rail, looking over the side. Jack joined him and looked down over the railing, trying to get his bearings. To their left and right the horizon stretched on forever as the sea rolled gently beneath them. The Pearl was traveling south-southeast at roughly eight o’clock, heading away from the coast.
After staring at nothing for several minutes, Rennick spoke. “So how did you figure out who the spy is?” he asked, glancing sidelong at Jack. “And how does my new shipmate know so much about spies?”
Jack smiled. “I’ve been watching you, Captain. And you are a spy. You just don’t know it yet.” He held up a hand as Rennick started to protest. “Don’t worry; I wasn’t spying on you while you were sleeping. Instead, I followed you to Spain after you escaped from prison.”
Rennick gave an annoyed sigh. “So what if I am a spy? What can I say?”
“Not even you could say that without lying,” Jack said as he leaned closer to Rennick. “Because you’re also working for someone else, aren’t you?”
A sly grin crossed Rennick’s face. “Is that what you think?”
“I wouldn’t be here now, would I?” Jack said with a grin of his own. “And that means you’re either working for yourself or you work for a man named Mr. Pinkham, who is the most dangerous spy I’ve ever met.”
Rennick shook his head and let out an angry growl. “This isn’t funny, Jack! This whole thing was your idea, wasn’t it?”
Jack nodded slowly. “Well, not all of it. But you helped me out when I first came aboard the Pearl.”
“All right,” Rennick huffed. “I admit there was something I wanted to find out once I reached Spain. Something that might explain why the King of England and Prince Philip didn’t come for my rescue.”
“It was about me, wasn’t it?” Jack pressed. “Wasn’t it?”
“Well… yes…” Rennick admitted reluctantly. He sighed and stared back out across the ocean, looking for any hint of land. “I was curious to see what became of you after your escape. So I decided to follow you.”
Jack stared at his old friend in disbelief. “You actually followed me all the way to Spain, all because you were curious about what happened to me?”
Rennick nodded. “Why else would I do such a crazy thing?”
Jack laughed, though he knew that wasn’t the real reason. After thinking for another minute, he said, “I guess curiosity did get the best of you—as it usually does when you start drinking.”
Rennick grinned, pleased with himself. “You know what I meant!”
Jack couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I know,” he replied. “But how’d you figure out who the spy is?”
Rennick turned toward Jack and frowned. “How did you figure out what?”
“The spy,” Jack said, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “Did you follow him around like I told you to?”
“Of course,” Rennick answered with a grin. “I followed him around everywhere.”
“Then how did you find out?” Jack pressed, still not convinced Rennick hadn’t somehow figured it out on his own.
Rennick looked at him for a moment then shrugged. “I saw him talking to this other person,” Rennick began. “It was one of the crew, one of the soldiers.”
“Really? Who?”
“A Spanish soldier,” Rennick repeated. “They were standing by the quarterdeck rail together. I thought that was odd, given the nature of the conversation, but it was hard to hear anything over the noise of the engines.”
Jack leaned over the rail and stared at the far end of the quarterdeck, where several men stood around the main wheel. They were all wearing full battle armor—chest plates, greaves, helmets, gauntlets, and long steel spears—which made sense if they were in the middle of a fight against another ship.
It seemed likely that one of them was a Spanish sailor, which explained why Rennick had found him standing beside the rail.
“What did they talk about?” Jack asked.
Rennick shrugged. “Something about being loyal to the crown.”
Jack shook his head and glanced back at Rennick. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” Jack urged. “There are hundreds of British sailors serving in the Spanish army. Why would a spy care what one of them said?”
Rennick scratched his head in confusion. “Why would a spy have to be concerned about one of his own men betrayed him? Isn’t that sort of the point of having spies?”
Jack shook his head. “No, it isn’t. The whole point of having spies is so you can keep track of what they’re doing, so you know whether or not to trust them. If you just tell one of your people not to worry about what anyone else says, then it becomes impossible to control what they do.”
Rennick gave him a surprised look. “You’re telling me you don’t trust any of your men?”
“Oh, I trust some of them, yes,” Jack replied. “I’ve seen their loyalty firsthand.”
He motioned toward the quarterdeck behind him and continued. “Take the Spaniard I mentioned earlier, for example. He’s been very loyal to me since we met in Cuba. He even saved my life in Havana when those Spanish soldiers were trying to kill us. In fact, he probably owes his life to me as well.”
Jack stopped short, thinking back to the last time he had seen the Spanish soldier. The day before he left for Spain, he was the only man aboard who hadn’t been captured by the Spaniards.
Jack smiled at the memory and continued, “If it wasn’t for that man, I wouldn’t be here now.”
“You seem to like him a lot,” Rennick noted, looking a little confused.
“Yes,” Jack confirmed, smiling again. “He’s a good man, and I appreciate him.”
“So if you trusted him so much, then why did you send him away?”
Jack shrugged. “I needed him, but he couldn’t go with me to Spain. He has a wife and children in Havana.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Rennick asked. “Are you going to bring him back to England?”
Jack looked at Rennick for a few seconds before responding. “Probably not,” he finally said.
Rennick raised an eyebrow, looking at him as if he was missing something important. “Why not?” he pressed.
“Well, it’s complicated,” Jack said, glancing away from Rennick and staring out at the horizon. “The truth is I haven’t decided yet.”
“That’s not really an answer,” Rennick observed.
Jack chuckled. “No, I suppose not.”
A sudden burst of wind sent a sheet of spray into Jack’s face, and he instinctively wiped it off before it could reach his eyes. Then he paused and looked up at the sky. The sun was already setting across the ocean, leaving the western sky a fiery red.
As the clouds raced past on either side of the moon, they lit up the water below, casting long shadows across the deck. It seemed almost as though the sea was boiling, and Jack could feel the heat coming off its surface.
“Captain!” Rennick called.
Jack turned back to see several officers striding down the gangway. Two of them were in uniform, while the others were dressed in long black cloaks that covered them from head to toe. Each was armed with a heavy-looking scimitar.
One of the cloaked men approached Jack and offered him his hand, which Jack took warily.
“Captain Jack Sparrow?” he asked.
Jack nodded. “How may I serve you?” he asked politely.
The man’s eyes narrowed as he examined him. “I’m afraid there won’t be many services required of you,” he replied.
Jack raised an eyebrow. “And just how is that?”
The man held his finger up to his lips, signaling silence. When no one spoke, he continued.
“This is your last warning: return to England at once.”
Jack stared at him, his mouth open slightly in surprise. “What?” he finally asked.
The cloaked man pointed to himself with one of the sword hilts and said, “I am one of the Assassins of the Brotherhood of the Seven Suns. You will obey our instructions without question.”
Jack stared at him in shock, unable to speak. Finally, he shook his head, trying to clear it.
“But…but…” Jack stuttered.
“You heard me,” the cloaked man said firmly. “It seems the king has grown tired of your insolent behavior—as have we.” He paused before continuing. “Now, Captain Jack Sparrow, I will give you until sunrise to get yourself back aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge and sail back to England. If you fail to comply, the consequences will be severe.”
Jack slowly let out a breath, looking first at the man, then over at the ship he was standing on.
“You’ll regret this,” he warned ominously, pointing his pistol straight at the man’s chest.
The Assassin of the Brotherhood of the Seven Suns smiled. “We don’t believe we will,” he assured him.
“But if you do…” Jack began.
“Don’t,” the man interrupted. “There will be no negotiation, Captain.”
Jack looked at him for a moment longer before finally nodding. “Very well,” he conceded. “I must admit, you caught me by surprise.”
“As I knew you would be,” the Assassin answered simply. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I came to meet you personally. The answer is simple. We have something very special planned for you, Jack.”
Jack looked at him curiously. “Special? What does that mean?”
The Assassin grinned wickedly. “When we say special, it means special.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing there’s no point in asking,” he muttered under his breath. “Well, you’ve convinced me, and I promise you that I won’t defy your command again.”
The Assassin nodded curtly. “Good,” he said calmly.
Then, without another word, the Assassin and his fellow Assassins spun around and walked back toward the gangway, their cloaks fluttering wildly behind them. Before they disappeared into the darkness, Jack thought he could make out someone shouting after them.
“Come back tomorrow!” he yelled. “And bring more men!”
The Assassins ignored him completely and didn’t look back.
Jack watched them go and shook his head, still not understanding what had happened. After a minute or two, he sighed and turned to see Rennick standing nearby.
“Well?” Rennick asked eagerly.
Jack shrugged helplessly. “I think they were after my ship,” he told him. “Something about ‘returning to England’ I guess.”
Rennick chuckled. “Ah! So you are back aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge, I take it.”
Jack nodded, smiling wryly as he tried to remember what was going on.
“Where’s Mr. Gibbs?” he wondered aloud. “I left him tending the sails.”
Rennick frowned thoughtfully. “You left him tending the sails?” he repeated sarcastically.
Jack sighed. “It’s the first time I’ve sailed with her, Rennick. She tends herself.”
A smile grew on Rennick’s face as he nodded. “Yes, yes, I suppose she would, wouldn’t she?” he laughed. Then, suddenly, he sobered. “So you really did come through here alone, Jack? You’re not planning on bringing any more people along?”
Jack sighed again, this time a little louder. “No, Rennick, I’m not,” he admitted. “Why would I bring anybody else down here?”
“That’s a good question, Jack,” the pirate leader said. “Let’s hope you know the answer.”
The End