The Black Buccaneer - Chapter - 39

The night was quiet in Tortuga, save for the occasional brawl outside the taverns and the drunken laughter that filled the air. The Tempest was docked securely, its crew resting after a long day of gathering information.

But in the dead of night, while the others slept, a shadow moved through the docks, heading straight for the ship.

Jack Sparrow.

He tiptoed across the wooden planks, careful not to wake the few men standing guard.

His plan was simple. Steal The Tempest, get as far away as possible, and deal with Davy Jones on his own terms.

He had two reasons.

First, Captain Black was now completely obsessed with finding Angelica, which meant he would never agree to help Jack with Davy Jones.

Second, Jack needed an escape route, and Sirius’s ship was too good to pass up.

He could deal with Sirius’s wrath later.

Jack reached the boarding plank, where Gibbs and a handful of his crew were already waiting.

“Took you long enough, Jack,” Gibbs whispered, glancing nervously around.

Jack grinned, flashing his gold teeth. “Aye, mate. Had to make sure our dear Captain Black wouldn’t notice we were leaving with his ship.”

“Are you sure about this?” asked another crewman. “Stealing from Captain Black doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

Jack scoffed. “Borrowing, mate. Borrowing. I fully intend to return it… eventually.”

Gibbs exhaled. “And what about Turner? He’ll have your head if he finds out.”

Jack shrugged. “By the time he notices, we’ll be long gone. Besides, he’s too busy thinking about Elizabeth. I’m doing him a favor, really.”

Without another word, Jack climbed aboard The Tempest.

Within minutes, the ship was unmoored and silently drifting away from Tortuga’s docks.

As the sails caught the wind, Jack stood at the helm, watching the shoreline disappear.

“Sorry, Henry. But I have my own problems to deal with.”

And with that, he sailed off into the night, leaving behind a storm of trouble in his wake.

The next morning, the sun rose over Tortuga, casting a warm glow over the bustling port.

Sirius Black woke early, his mind focused entirely on finding Blackbeard.

But as soon as he stepped onto the docks, something felt wrong.

His ship was gone.

A cold fury settled in his chest.

“Where is The Tempest?” his voice boomed across the docks, waking up the crew.

One of the dock workers stammered, “I… I don’t know, Captain! It was here last night!”

William Turner came running up, equally furious. “Jack. It has to be Jack.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. He should have known.

William shook his head. “That damn pirate. He’s probably halfway to Boston.”

Sirius exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. Jack’s betrayal wasn’t surprising.

But it was annoying.

“Let him go,” Sirius said finally. “We don’t have time to chase after him. Our focus is on Blackbeard. Angelica is alive, and I will find her.”

William hesitated. “And what about the compass? I need it to save Elizabeth.

Sirius had no time for Jack Sparrow’s games—Angelica was alive, and he would find her.

William, on the other hand, had no choice but to chase Jack—Elizabeth’s life depended on it.

Both men needed ships. Both needed crews.

Standing on the edge of the docks, Sirius pulled out two small enchanted bottles from inside his coat. Each contained a miniature ship, perfectly preserved, floating inside its glass prison.

William stared at the bottles in disbelief.

"What… is this?" he asked.

Sirius smirked, tossing one bottle to him. “Your ship. Just break it, throw it into the sea, and it’ll return to full size.”

William turned the bottle in his hands. The tiny ship inside was sleek and well-built, an English frigate, perfect for his mission.

“And the catch?” William narrowed his eyes.

“No catch, Turner. I have ships to spare.” Sirius waved the other bottle. “One for you, one for me. Now, I suggest you hire a crew before you break that thing. A ship without men is a floating coffin.”

William nodded slowly. “Fair enough. But what about you? How do I know you won’t just abandon your search and go after Jack yourself?”

Sirius’s expression darkened. “Because my fiancée is out there, and I will find her. Nothing else matters to me.”

William hesitated, then nodded. “Then let’s get started.”

Recruiting a crew in Tortuga was like picking pockets in broad daylight—you never knew if you’d end up rich or dead.

Pirates were a treacherous breed, loyal only to gold and survival.

William and Sirius split up, each walking through the crowded docks and taverns, sifting through the filth to find men they could trust.

William had never recruited a crew before. He was used to working alone, but now, he needed a ship full of men willing to follow him.

He entered the Rowdy Siren, a dark, smoky tavern, where men gambled, drank, and brawled.

A heavily scarred sailor sat at the bar, sipping cheap rum. He looked capable, but also dangerous.

William approached carefully.

“I need a crew. Strong, loyal men. Know where I can find some?”

The man laughed. “Loyal? In Tortuga? You’re better off hiring ghosts, lad.”

William pulled out a heavy coin pouch, dropping it on the table.

The room went quiet.

The sailor smirked. “Alright. You got my attention.”

Sirius had experience with men like these. He knew exactly what to look for.

He walked into The Rotten Eel, a dingy tavern known for its cutthroat clientele.

As soon as he entered, a group of pirates went silent, their eyes narrowing at the sight of him.

One of them, a grizzled old captain, leaned forward.

“You look familiar, mate. Haven’t I seen you before?”

Sirius smirked, stepping closer. “You’ve heard of me, but you’ve never seen me. Name’s Henry Creed. I’m looking for men who know how to follow orders—and who don’t fear the sea.”

The old captain eyed him carefully. “What’s the job?”

“I’m after a ghost,” Sirius said simply. “And I need men who don’t ask questions.”

The captain’s grin widened. “Aye. Sounds like my kind of trouble.”

By sunset, both men had their crews assembled.

William had a lean, well-disciplined group of sailors, former navy men turned privateers, hardened by years of war.

Sirius had a ruthless, battle-worn crew, the kind that would follow him into hell if the pay was good enough.

They stood on the docks, the bottled ships in hand, ready to set sail.

William took a deep breath, gripping the bottle.

“Good luck, Henry.”

Sirius nodded. “We’ll meet again. Try not to die.”

William smashed the bottle against a rock, and before their eyes, the ship expanded, growing larger and larger until it floated in the harbor, ready to sail.

Sirius did the same.

Two ships.

Two captains.

Two missions.

The sea breeze rolled over the deck of The Tempest, carrying the scent of salt and distant islands. The ship sailed smoothly through the Caribbean, guided by the experienced hands of Captain Jack Sparrow and his crew.

Standing at the helm, Jack twirled his compass absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

His first mate, Joshamee Gibbs, leaned on the railing, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“So, Captain... where exactly are we sailing first?” Gibbs asked, arms crossed.

Jack grinned, flashing his gold teeth.

“Havana, mate.”

Gibbs raised a brow. “Havana? That’s not where Davy Jones is.”

Jack wagged a finger at him. “Aye, but it’s where I don’t get murdered by Captain Black.”

Gibbs sighed. “You mean the same Captain Black whose ship you stole in the middle of the night? The same one who’s likely plotting all sorts of horrible ways to gut you as we speak?”

Jack shrugged. “Borrowed. Borrowed, Gibbs. And I plan on giving it back.”

Gibbs scoffed. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that? Just waltzing up to Black’s estate, leaving the ship there, and hoping he doesn’t flay you alive?”

Jack tapped his temple. “That’s exactly the plan! We sail to Havana, dock The Tempest at Henry’s estate—where, I might add, my dear Black Pearl is already waiting—then we make a clean switch. Henry gets his ship back, and we sail off into the sunset without any unfortunate stabbings.”

Gibbs sighed, rubbing his face. “Jack, that’s a terrible plan.”

Jack grinned wider. “Which means it’s bound to work!”

As The Tempest neared Havana, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the island city.

Jack stood at the bow, admiring the view.

“Ah, Havana. A fine city full of lovely people who would absolutely love to see me hanged.”

Gibbs grunted. “Aye, and let’s not forget, this is where Henry’s got his men. You know, the ones who won’t be too happy to see his ship coming in without him on it.”

Jack waved a hand. “Details, details. All we have to do is sneak into the estate, tie up the ship nice and pretty, and be on our way before anyone’s the wiser.”

As they sailed into the private harbor, Jack’s confidence waned slightly when he noticed the guard ships stationed near Henry’s estate.

“Oh.” Jack muttered. “That’s new.”

Gibbs groaned. “You didn’t think Henry would leave his estate unguarded, did you?”

“I was hoping,” Jack admitted.

A cannon fired in the distance, a warning shot. The guards had noticed them.

“Captain, we might have a problem!” one of the crew called.

Jack sighed and clapped his hands together. “Right then. Change of plans. We dock fast, run faster, and pretend none of this ever happened.”

Gibbs muttered, “We’re going to die.”

Jack grinned. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

With expert maneuvering, The Tempest was brought into the harbor, docking near Henry’s grand estate.

Jack was the first to jump off, landing on the dock without waiting for the ropes to be secured.

“Alright, lads, tie her up nice and tight! Let’s make it look like we were never here.”

As the crew scrambled to secure the ship, footsteps echoed from the direction of the estate.

“We’ve got company!” Gibbs warned.

Jack turned to see three armed guards approaching, hands on their cutlasses.

One of them, an older sailor, narrowed his eyes. “That’s not Captain Creed.”

Jack gave his best innocent smile.

“No, it is not! But! We are merely delivering Captain Creed’s ship back to its rightful place. You see, we found it abandoned at sea!”

The guards exchanged looks.

Jack leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Terrible storm, you see. But being the good men we are, we decided to return it here, safe and sound. Out of the kindness of our hearts.”

One guard glanced at The Tempest, noting the lack of visible damage.

Another pointed at Jack. “Aren’t you Jack Sparrow?”

Jack’s smile wavered.

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“The Royal Navy, for starters.”

Jack grimaced. “Ah. In that case—run.”

Jack took off like a shot, sprinting towards the hidden dock where The Black Pearl was anchored.

Gibbs and the rest of the crew scrambled behind him, dodging shouting guards.

“Captain, I hate to say it, but this was a bloody terrible idea!” Gibbs yelled.

“Which means it’s working!” Jack shot back.

They rounded a corner, and there she was—The Black Pearl, waiting in the water like a ghost in the moonlight.

The crew didn’t hesitate, leaping onto the ship as the guards chased them down the dock.

Jack stumbled aboard, turning just in time to cut a rope, sending a pile of crates crashing down onto their pursuers.

“Cast off! Cast off!” he shouted.

The sails caught the wind, and The Black Pearl glided into the open sea, leaving the chaos of Havana behind.

Jack dusted off his coat and straightened his hat.

“And that, mates, is how you return a stolen ship without getting caught.”

Gibbs huffed, catching his breath. “We nearly died three times in one night.”

Jack grinned. “Aye. But we didn’t. And that, my dear Gibbs, is what makes it a good plan.”

As The Black Pearl disappeared into the horizon, Jack finally let himself relax.

Now, with The Tempest safely returned and his own ship reclaimed, it was time to focus on his real mission—dealing with Davy Jones and that blasted compass.

And as for Captain Black?

Jack figured he’d deal with that later.

If he was lucky, Henry Creed wouldn’t even know he had been there.