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

Mister Barbossa

Chapter Four -- Mr Barbossa

After an absence of some days, Jack returned to the Pearl mightily pleased with the new crew that had signed on in Tortuga. I stared as they boarded us, thinking them a rough and dangerous lot, but trusting that under Jack's command, they would not prove utterly ungovernable.

As I watched, I heard a sudden angry squeal, and a mangy little monkey, all fangs, fur and claws, jumped over the railing. It bared its teeth in a grin of rage as if it would bite me, then turned and fled up the nearest shroud, chattering all the while. I sought out Jack at once.

"Please tell me that I only dreamt I was nearly attacked by a wild monkey just now?" I asked him.

Jack squinted, finger to his lips, trying to remember. "Aye!" he said as the light dawned. "That would be the new ship's monkey." His words were a bit slurred, and I could see that negotiations in Tortuga had involved a good amount of rum. "The crew insisted on it. We need to give him a name."

"I see. What about 'Anathema'? At once classical and expressive," I suggested, with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

"Too long; though I do see your point," Jack replied sympathetically. "Never mind, then; he'll likely stay up in the rigging. You'll not even know he's aboard, love. Belongs to our new First Mate, actually; he'll have to manage the pestiferous little . . . pest."

"The First Mate signed on and brought that little monster with him? What sort of a –," I began, but Jack put his hand over my mouth for an instant.

"Shh! That's him," he said under his breath, facing me but turning his eyes towards the rail as I followed his gaze.

Our new First Mate was just stepping on deck from the ladder. There was something so striking, so ominous in his appearance that my gaze was instantly fixated. Some sixth sense in me was alarmed, though I was not able to say why. He's come down in the world, I thought. The shirt and breeches that looked unremarkable on the rest of the crew seemed mean and shabby on his rangy frame, as if they had been part of some grander ensemble in the past, and he wore no hat over his dirty green headscarf.

Mr Barbossa was taller than any man on board the Pearl, and his bearing had a proud and magisterial air. In spite of this, his grim, scarred face, scruffily braided hair, and limping stride told of a man who had lived rough over many hard years. As he placed his hands on the rails, I noticed the numerous cuts and tar deposits that mark the seaman's hands, yet his long, discoloured nails were surely not those of a deck hand. I stood transfixed by this apparition, unable to move, until, sensing my stare, he turned his head in my direction. I quickly turned my face away, embarrassed and alarmed. Too late, I realised that he might perceive this as an insult; the damage was done.

I drew Jack away to the other side of the deck. "What made you choose that man for First Mate?" I whispered, trying to avoid being overheard. "There's some danger afoot – I can feel it! Be wary of him. Look how the other ruffians show him the respect of old cronies," I added.

"Nina, Nina, girl," Jack put an arm around my shoulders. "We're all pirates here! All rogues and ruffians! Remember? I met him over a bottle of rum in..." he waved his arm, not able to recall the tavern, "The Bag o' Nails, or The Queen's Arms, or perhaps her legs . . . one of those establishments. And of course he knows 'em – that's how he signed 'em on in no time at all! He says they're all men of good experience. And you've got to focus on this: I'm the only one who knows where we're bound. What's in it for them to do, other than pitch in? I've promised 'em all equal shares," he said grandly, "You can't say fairer than that, can you?"

"Promise me that you'll give away no information on the bearings?" I begged him. Nature was sounding every alarm in my being, and my stomach was hollow and tight.