Copyright. Characters, not mine. See the Mouse. Story, mine, but I make no money. He does, but not on this.
Typing convention/ is used for thoughts. - - is used for scene change/elapsed time.
Summary: How do you cheer up a depressed Sparrow?
Beta: The great BetaGoddess Pendragginink. She's fantastic! And way too modest for her own good!
A/N: Apparently some fangirls went to Greg Ellis and asked him Groves' first name. I don't know if it was in reference for fanfics or if he even reads them, but hopefully he doesn't take offense if he does. Anyway, it's officially Theodore Groves, so any fics that I had previously done have had the name changed.
IMPORTANT NOTE: This is the sequel to "The Makings of a Pirate". If you don't read the first story, you're missing EVERYTHING, so if you haven't read it, please go do so and come back or you won't understand anything.
NOTE: I live for reviews. Being quite depressed lately about my health and missing my job, I could really use some reviews...and don't think I'm begging for cudos! I happen to love flames and constructive criticism just as much and sometimes more! Lord knows, without constructive criticism, I'd have never fixed some of the boo boos I've made!
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May the wind always be at your back
And the sun always upon your face
And the winds of destiny to carry you aloft to dance with the stars.
--Old Irish Blessing as quoted by George Jung ("Blow")
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Chapter 7 - Relentless and Renegade
Raymond put the fork back on the plate and looked at Gillette. "Probably because, as soon as Sparrow was hanged, I personally granted clemency to each of the crew and gave a Letter of Mark to Captain James. And they've held the ship's activities to that agreement quite well, attacking only Dutch, Spanish and French ships. Plus, I've set them exclusive bounties for every pirate ship that attacks British merchants."
"But for every member of this ship? That is highly irregular."
"Just so. Nevertheless! What better way to keep me alive?"
"But Turner and Miss Swann...surely you could not bribe them enough! Sparrow was a good friend of theirs."
"He was, yes, that is true, but...we discussed it at length. Sparrow is dead. Suffice it to say I'm still alive. I can be very persuasive when it is called for, believe me."
Once lunch was concluded with the serving of nuts, fresh fruits and a fine port, Gillette suggested that he and Lord Raymond adjourn to the Relentless. "After all, it's not like I would try to sink a privateer with a Letter of the Mark. Captain James, be sure you do have that letter with you or some 'glory-seeking naval captain' may try to sink you." He grinned sheepishly.
Robert smiled and pulled an envelope with the governor's seal out of a pocket. "Of course. I keep it on my person at all times." He slipped the envelope away again.
Lord Raymond remained seated. "I should actually prefer to sail in with the Black Pearl. That way, the citizenry understands that Captain James and his crew mean them no harm. I have some business to discuss with Captain James at the Mansion as well, so I do hope it acceptable to you for me to ride in on this ship? I promise to look over your lovely new flagship when my business with Captain James is concluded." Lord Raymond smiled beatifically at the Commodore, his eyes twinkling.
Gillette smiled, obviously proud of his new "toy." "Very good, milord. Oh, would you like me to send Captain Groves back over? I have noticed that he often visits the mansion when he's off-duty, and a few more hours won't be a burden on the navy if you need him."
"No, thank you, Commodore, I suspect that Captain Groves has had quite enough of my antics. And truth to tell, he has been visiting the mansion to see Estrella, the upstairs maid, and so far, he has been quite the gentleman, much to her disgust."
- -
Although he retained a cultured accent, all of the governor's usual poofish mannerisms and vocal inflections were gone. "Now, Robert, I'm not complaining at all you understand. You have outdone me by far in the number of slaves freed, but my question is HOW? With Will and Lizzy on the Pearl, I would assume that you are still down one ship. How is it that you've been capturing four times the number of slavers that I was able to do?"
Robert gave the earl a sheepish grin. "Well, Raymond, please remember that when you were 'in the business,' so to speak, you refused to refurbish the slave ships and employ them to the cause up until Anamaria talked you into keeping the Redeemer. Without a shred of compunction, I admit I have no such aversion. We train the former slaves to sail and to pilot the ships, and then add those who wish to stay with us to the fleet. The Black Pearl only attacks treasure ships and various French or Spanish ships, and lately the Dutch, plus your list of cutthroats, with the help of the Dauntless. I'm sure you will be pleased to know that Marty has renamed her 'Pearl's Big Brother'." Raymond chuckled, grinning and shaking his head at the drollery of it. "Anyway, we refurbish the guns and anything else as required in Will's forge on the Pearl, and they attack the slavers five ships to one. The fleet is now actually thriving at sixty-seven ships and growing. And with the income from the Spanish treasure ships, your payroll has not had to suffer. Point of fact, we are quite self-sufficient."
Lord Raymond was impressed. "And any former slaves that don't wish to hunt slavers go to the plantation at Montego Bay?"
"Yes, of course. That will never change."
"And what do the new crews thing of continuing to live on and use their former vehicles of captivity?"
"They actually seem to enjoy it. They take delight in gutting the ships and refitting them to handle passengers instead of 'cargo'."
"Hmm...If I were in their position, I would want it sunk. Ah well. You're doing wonderfully, Robert. Now, what bounty ships have you sunk and what do I owe?"
The two men spoke at length for several hours, and by the time they finished, it was in the wee hours, early the next morning and both of Lord Raymond's new ferrets were asleep on his lap using each the other as pillows.
As Robert stood up to leave, Raymond finally spoke what was on his mind. "Robert, thank you for rescuing us. I know Ted was getting tired of being O'Sullivan's guest, and I wasn't exactly looking forward to losing any more of me. Seven teeth and some skin off my back is quite enough in my opinion." He held his right hand up, examining it. "And I definitely like my finger right where it is."
- -
Lord Raymond pouted. "Why not? If you want me to look at the Relentless properly, I must see it in action."
"But milord, the dangers! What if we meet up with pirates? I've a duty to keep you safe!"
/I've had it up to HERE with duty! I bloody want some FUN/ "Commodore, there are few pirates left in these waters, and I promise to go hide in my cabin like a rabbit if there's any kind of trouble."
Gillette thought about it. "But your back-"
"-is healing nicely according to Dr. Johnston."
The commodore surrendered. "All right. We sail at dawn with the tide in our favor. If you don't wish to rise that early, you are welcome to board immediately and sleep in your cabin tonight."
"No need for that, Commodore, I'll see you bright and early in the morning then. I have a lot to catch up on tonight."
Bowing, Commodore Gillette left.
- -
When Lord Raymond arrived at the docks bright and chipper in the early morning hours, all eyes were upon him. He wore a quite appropriate set of clothes for sailing, but the lavender coloring of that style clothes made many of the sailors laugh. He pranced up the gangplank with a matching sack over his shoulder, a well-kept pistol in his belt, and a Turner Original at his side. He walked rather daintily into the great cabin, sat at the table and waited.
Gillette walked into the great cabin and bowed to Lord Raymond. "Milord, we are about to set sail. If you would like to observe, you may accompany me on the foredeck."
"Where shall I put my things?"
Gillette quickly helped him stow his gear and they left.
- -
The Relentless was impressive as she sailed, even to Lord Raymond's standards. Larger than the Dauntless at one hundred twelve guns ranged on three gun decks; with her new, sleek design, she was clearly as fast as the Interceptor had been. The first four days had been clear sailing, with only the occasional British merchant ship sighted. By the end of the fifth day, Lord Raymond was getting antsy; he could smell a storm brewing, but he didn't dare say anything to Gillette. Had Groves been aboard, he could have told him, but he didn't know any of the Relentless' crew. Just before sunset, the clouds had rolled in and the wind picked up, causing Captain Shores to drop anchor and furl the sails. A few minutes later, the lookout called "Sail ho!" and the captain looked through his spyglass, handing it to Gillette when he was finished. As Gillette finished, Raymond held his hand out. "May I? It sounds exciting!"
Gillette handed him the spyglass. "Not really. It appears to be another merchant ship. It's flying British colors."
Lord Raymond looked through the spyglass. Sure enough, the ship had a British flag flying. But there was something disturbingly familiar to him about the lines of the ship. Raymond kept watching, and saw the ship turn in their direction. He recognized the figurehead; it was a ship he knew well and never wanted to see again. "Commodore, the ship seems to be heading this way. Shouldn't your men get ready?"
Shores took the spyglass and looked again. "Milord, go to your cabin. I recognize that ship as the Renegade. She'd been gone for several years; I'd hoped she'd been sunk."
Raymond started to protest, then saw the look on the captain's face and keeping his word he made his way most reluctantly into the great cabin. He heard Shores calling orders and shook his head. /Bloody navy. Captain Wright will tear them apart while I sit here waiting for him to find me./ Raymond watched out the great captain's gun port as the Renegade approached.
- -
The two ships converged and engaged, the guns of both ships firing mercilessly at the other. While the Relentless fired the regulation standard cannonballs, the Renegade peppered the Relentless and her crew with grape shot and caltrops, killing and wounding whole groups of men as the flying shrapnel hit its marks, the caltrops scattered on the deck making walking and running precarious for the barefoot sailors. At last, the Renegade was able to pull close enough to the naval ship so that the pirates began boarding.
Lord Raymond peeked through the cabin door and watched in horror as the crew of the Relentless slowly fell one by one to the Revenge. Then he noticed that the helmsman was dead, draped over the wheel. Captain Shores was nowhere in his vision, and he could no longer hear ANYONE giving orders to the Relentless' crew.
Watching the one-sided carnage before him was taking its toll on Raymond. He had no love for the navy, true, but he couldn't stand by in hiding and watch good men die. He checked the cabin for more pistols. Not finding any, he drew his Turner Original and strode out the door toward the helm, cutting through several of the attackers on the way, shouting orders and rallying men as he went. There was a definite tone of command in his voice and the air of his mannerisms; none of his usual lilt or prancing was in evidence. In fact, he seemed more at home giving orders and fighting than any of the marines.
Sailors scattered before him and made ready to run. Soldiers banded together after he passed and defended each other. When several of the soldiers tried to follow Raymond to the helm to defend him, he sent them instead to find and defend Captain Shores and Commodore Gillette.
As the great ship started turning with Raymond at the wheel, the men cut away the lines as fast as they could. The Relentless pulled away with fully half of the Renegade's crew on her decks. Raymond ordered all cannons loaded with grape shot and chain shot, crossed the "T" at their bow, and fired. Two of the three masts on the Renegade fell.
The Relentless' crew cheered and began immediately mopping up the few pirates remaining on their ship, giving quarter to those who gave up, locking them securely in the brig. While he watched some soldiers carrying Captain Shores into the captain's cabin, Raymond heard something behind him and turned, bringing his sword up in defense position. He recognized the man as Timothy Lewis, quartermaster of the Renegade.
Raymond grinned savagely and attacked. Lewis was momentarily thrown off guard as the man dressed in lavender and pink before him bore down on him with the voracity of a pirate.
"Lewis, give it up! You're taken! Your men are surrendering and the Renegade will never catch us. You can't win."
"Then I'll take you to hell with me, you bloody poof!" He slashed at Raymond, who was deftly parried the blow.
"All right then, have at it." Lord Raymond growled and attacked in earnest, his heart singing as he struck Lewis in the side.
A crowd of men gathered, watching as Raymond and Lewis fought. Once, the men applauded as he tied off the wheel maintaining parries and ripostes, without even looking at Lewis; he was clearly the superior swordsman, though his tactics were not always orthodox. In fact, many of the men recognized his style as that one would expect of a well-trained, experienced pirate.
Round and round they danced, Lewis falling back as Raymond advanced, a demonic gleam in his eyes and a wide, delighted grin on his face, no longer composed and serene. A sudden, lucky thrust from Lewis pierced Raymond's shoulder, making him drop his sword positioned for the killing blow; Lord Raymond pulled his pistol from his belt with his left hand, cocking it as he drew and shot Lewis point blank in the chest. He watched calmly, the red stain from his shoulder spreading across his chest, as Lewis fell.
Soldiers and sailors alike cheered as Raymond put his pistol away and picked up his sword, wiping it off on the dead man and sheathing properly in its scabbard descending from the quarterdeck ordering, "clear away that mess and head this ship on its way back to Port Royal. If you sight black sails, run up a flag of truce and come and get me. I want Wright and his crew stopped before they can cause more trouble." One of the sailors moved immediately to the helm, unhooked the wheel and set course for Port Royal while Lord Raymond, refusing all offered assistance, carefully made his way to his cabin to rest.
- -
Click.
Raymond's eyes snapped open. Other than that, he made no movements. He knew that sound, the click of a pistol being cocked, and didn't want to frighten the wielder and startle them into doing anything stupid. Moving only his eyes, he was surprised to see Gillette standing next to the bed, several red stains on his uniform. The lilt in the governor's voice was definitely back and going strong. "Is this a new way to say 'good afternoon' to the governor of Jamaica?"
Gillette's hand didn't move. "No, milord. This is the polite way of saying 'good morning' to a pirate."
Raymond sat up slowly, holding his wounded shoulder. His eyes narrowed and his voice dropped dangerously to just above a whisper. "You obviously do not know to whom you are speaking, Commodore. Now I would suggest that you go back to your cabin and rest till the doctor gets to you and we both forget about this little act of treason."
"I don't think so, Sparrow. If either of us has committed treason, it is you, and I'll see you drawn and quartered for it."
Raymond sat up straight. "Commodore Gillette, first of all, put the pistol down before I have you arrested and stripped of rank." Gillette hesitated, but lowered the pistol so that it was no longer pointing at Lord Raymond. "Second, I am, in fact, Raymond Charles Jonathan Stewart, Lord Smythe-Douglass, Earl of Jamaica, and First Sea Lord of the Caribbean. These titles were given to me by King Charles II, and continued to be so acknowledged by King James II, William and Mary, Queen Anne, and currently by our good King George I, who has recently added to my titles by naming me Viceroy of the West Indies. I am 67th in succession for the throne of England and 37th in line for the throne of France. All of this puts me so high above your station that, on a clear day, from a mountain top, you may actually be able to see me through a spyglass, if you were intelligent enough, which I doubt, to hold it to your eye instead of your arse."
"You are Jack Sparrow, former captain of the Black Pearl and a notorious pirate."
"Which means absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things other than I am less of a threat to the king than you and half the misguided, miscreants, betrayers and rogues that currently surround him as officers of the royal court. I AM Raymond Stewart, Lord Smythe-Douglass, and what I have done as Sparrow does not concern you."
"Then you really ARE Sparrow?"
Snatching the pistol from Gillette's hand, Raymond's eyes narrowed, flashing dark fire. "You would come in here and threaten me without knowing this as fact? My dear Mr. Gillette, I do not care to even begin to think of how you ever became commodore over Ted. He has more sense in his left shoe than you have dripping out your ears! Suffice it to say, yes, I was also Jack Sparrow, and the most boring and unpleasant thing I have ever had to do was to accept these appointments from King George and hang Captain Jack Sparrow! Now go back to your cabin and wait for the doctor like the good little obedient Royal Navy toady that you are. We're on our way back to Port Royal, and I have orders for the crew to contact the Pearl at the first opportunity and send her against the Renegade, as I am NOT giving Wright the chance to make landfall and refit. Now, on another important note, how is Captain Shores?"
"He's alive, thanks to you. As is most of the crew, myself included. I do wish to thank you for that."
"And a fine thanks it is, too...shoving a pistol up my nose whilst I'm sleeping and threatening me on top of that. I should have you clapped in irons at the very least. Now, we'll need someone to pilot this ship into the harbor at Port Royal. Do you know of any still alive and qualified to do the job?"
"Just yourself, milord. Captain Shores and I are military men, not sailors. However, if need be, we can sail in close enough and send a boat to shore to bring back a pilot from the fort."
"Well, that is one thing I want to see changed. I want all officers trained and qualified as harbor pilots for emergencies just such as these."
"But milord, that is-"
"-Highly irregular. Yes, Gillette, it is. So is having your entire piloting crew killed or wounded in such a way that a naval ship is kept helplessly waiting outside of the harbor, completely useless, while pirates blast the bejesus out of a town with their nasty little cannons. So, Commodore Gillette, as long as I AM First Sea Lord of the Caribbean, all officers, from mere midshipmen to admirals shall be qualified to pilot through all the local harbors, savvy?" Raymond gave Gillette an all too familiar-looking grin, even with his perfect white teeth. "Once the doctor has seen to the rest of the crew, could you please send him in here? My shoulder can most definitely wait, but I believe it will need a couple of stitches before I have to take the helm. Now be a good lad and stop bleeding on my cabin decking and go to your own cabin and wait for the doctor?" Raymond lay back down as Gillette, confused by this peculiar turn of events, turned about face and almost ran out of the cabin.
Later that evening, the sailors of the Relentless stared in shock as Pearl's Big Brother pulled along side and Raymond explained to Captain Marty what he wanted done.
"No problem, milord. The Renegade will be at the bottom before dawn." Marty bowed and left.
- -
Raymond couldn't stop giggling. "And so George sent his letter to me, asking what I want done with the idiot!" He laughed some more.
Groves chuckled. "And he obviously thinks the king doesn't know who you are?"
Raymond handed the letter over. "Few people realize that my father, Charles Stuart, was kept from starving in Paris and freezing in the Hague while in exile through the charity of relatives, mainly William's family. I summered in Hanover until I was seven, and it was 'Uncle George' who gave me my first fencing lessons. Ah well. George wants to know what to do with the idiot. Well? Any ideas? Ted! How would you like to be a commodore?"
Ted looked aghast. "Have I done something to offend you, Raymond? I am quite happy with my present position."
The governor laughed. "Then I suppose I shall have to speak to Commodore Gillette. Could you tell him that I expect him for dinner tonight? Don't bother him with the details. But do make it clear to him that refusing the invitation is not an option." He took the letter back and put it in his pocket. Ted left.
- -
"Anthony, please give the commodore some more of that savory meat-pie." Anthony dutifully refilled Gillette's plate. "So, commodore. How do you like the food? I requested this pie made especially delicious for this occasion." He pulled out a letter with the king's royal seal on it.
Gillette took another bite of his pie. "This is quite good. The meat is a bit of a mystery though. I believe it to fowl, but it's too wild a taste for squab, and it isn't pheasant or grouse. What kind of meat is it?" He looked at Raymond, then at the letter. "A letter from the king? Good news, I hope?"
"Good news for some, I suppose. As for the meat, that's crow, commodore. When you sent your letter to the king regarding Jack Sparrow, you failed to consider that 'Uncle George' has known my identity all along. He sent me your letter, asking me what to do with you."
Gillette's face was one of horror. "M...Mi...Milord, I thought-"
"No, commodore, you did NOT. HAD you been thinking, you would have realized that had Commodore Norrington not already had proof, he would never have become what he is today. However, instead of stripping you of rank or wasting good rope hanging you, I shall give you the opportunity to redeem yourself. I have already made arrangements with Robert. You shall have the same 'voyage of discovery' training I gave him. When you return, perhaps you will not be so arrogantly 'high strung' and proper. I require loyalty, Commodore, but I do understand that such loyalty as I demand must be earned. The Black Pearl will be in port with the night tide. It sails again at dawn. Be on it or be hanged. I shall see you in a month or so."
Gillette bowed, not sure if he was relieved or not. "Thank you, milord."
Raymond grinned evilly. "We'll see when you get back whether you still think that thanks are in order. Now off with you. Shoo. Oh, and pack a very light sea-kit. You will be furnished with everything you need." Gillette left.
- -
TBC