All Hallows' Eve
In Tortuga, the autumn air is warm and humid long after the sun has set, even in late October, and wise residents move their beds to quasi-outdoor rooms called "sleeping porches", where night breezes offer some relief from the heat, if not the mosquitos. On this particular night, even Jack Sparrow had found it necessary to step outside of his favourite tavern, hoping that the sea breeze would revive him after a productive evening of recruiting crew for his next venture – a hunt for the Chest of Cortes.
As he strolled out onto the docks, Jack was disappointed to see that he had company. He had expected to steal a quiet moment alone in which to contemplate his treasure-seeking scheme and make certain all was in place. But there was one solitary figure ahead of him on the dock, a man who seemed to be singing to himself and jumping about in a kind of jubilant dance, as he took periodic swigs from a bottle in his hand. There was no avoiding him. As Jack closed the distance between them, he tilted his hat forward and tried to look past the man, to no avail.
"Hey, broddah!" said the man in a loud voice. "What a yuh duh out here? W'en all dem pretty Misses be ova deh suh?" With a raucous laugh and a rude gesture, he added, "Doan' dey do wah yuh want 'em t'do?"
Jack answered with a smile, feeling unamused, then thought of a way to rid himself of his companion. "Y'know …," he began, waving one hand, "eh.. I didn't catch the name ...?"
There was a slight pause. "Sam," the man answered.
Doesn't want to be found, thought Jack. Perfect for a pirate. Looks like a strong devil, too.
"Oh, Sam, is it?" he exclaimed with a grin. "Well, Sam, they're signin' up a crew at the Faithful Bride for a venture of legendary proportions – they're goin' after the Chest of Cortes! They know where it is."
The man smiled broadly, showing surprisingly white teeth in the darkness. His eyes glinted as he asked, "An' yuh t'ink mi should jine 'em?"
Jack nodded hopefully.
"Nah, mon," the man chuckled. Then he added, rather mysteriously, "W'at be deep in de well will come up in de bucket. Yuh hear dat wan before?"
Jack nodded. "Ay, mate. Jamaican proverb. Don't actually see what it has to do with the gold, but . . ."
"Dere be a curse dat lies wit de gold," Sam explained, tapping his forefinger on Jack's chest in a confidential manner. "Baron Samedi tell me. A curse for any wan who take de gold." He smiled with a satisfied air.
"An' who would this Baron be?" asked Jack. "An' what would he know about it?"
"Baron Samedi?" Sam was incredulous. "Yuh doan' know? Him a loa*; him face be nottin' but bones; but him got a cane an' a fine hat. Baron see bot' worlds – de livin' an' de dead. Him won' dig de grave for dem t'ieves, so dey kyan nah get to de odder world. Dey be ketched between livin' an dead."
"Voodoo spirit guide, eh?" Jack couldn't resist pursuing the conversation a little further. "And when did you hear from him? You're not a houngan are you?" he asked, feeling confident in his knowledge of voodoo practices.
"Nah, mon," Sam replied with a grin. "Baron love t' drink an' chase dem Misses. Him be in Tortuga sometimes."
"An' how would he know about this curse?" asked Jack, who was now becoming curious in spite of himself.
"Maman Brigitte tell 'im," Sam answered. At the mention of her name, a little flicker of cold wind played over the men. "Do yuh know who 'ur is?"
A wild idea suggested itself to Jack. "You don't mean Tia Dalma, do you?" he asked. "Never 'eard her called Madam wozzis." He was becoming restless to return to the tavern, and bored of Sam's superstitious ramblings.
" 'Ur be Tia Dalma to yuh. To mi, Maman Brigitte," Sam replied. "Yuh bettah t'ink 'bout what mi tell yuh," he added, before taking a last gulping swig from his bottle.
"Right. I shall do that," said Jack as he turned away. "I shall think of it the moment I get me 'ands on that swag. Cheers, mate."
He strode back along the dock to the lights and noise of the tavern.
Sam stood in the dark alone, watching Jack depart. "Ah, Jack, Jack, mi boy," he said, under his breath. "Mi warn yuh: ebery day bucket go to well, one day bottom boun' fi drop out."
He turned his eyes to the sky, where the clouds were drifting away from the moon. A beam of moonlight touched his face and made the flesh vanish, like a mist driven away by the morning sun.
Sam reached around the side of a barrel and retrieved his fine, tricorn hat and his walking stick. The Baron laughed as he placed the hat on his head, and tossed the empty rum bottle into the water. Then he stepped into the shadows, his outline becoming less and less distinct, until the dock was empty once more.
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A/N: Baron Samedi is a voodoo loa, or intermediary spirit, who is associated with magic and death, but he is also a giver of life. He is known for disruption and debauchery, and only he can "accept" an individual into the realm of the dead.
*Loa – one of the spirits of Haitian Vodou, also called the Invisibles. They intermediate between gods and men.
Houngan – a male priest in Haitian Vodou.
