Under the Blac Flag

IV. At the Sign of the Spy-Glass

The group trudged along in silence, Hands occasionally throwing a glare over his shoulder as they followed the country road towards the wharf. Beyond the treetops, Port Royal glimmered like a jewel on the water.

As they approached the harbour, echoes of music and laughter danced on the breeze. The cobbled streets began to fill with people as they made their way past Rupert's Fort and along High Street. Soon they were in the thick of Fishers Row, drunken sailors spilling out of the taverns and brothels. They followed the line of the docks until they came to a dimly lit pub with a large, brass telescope for a sign.

The tavern sagged on its timber frame, its once-white wattle stained with years of smoke and grime.

Hands pushed his way inside, weaving through the clouds of tobacco and men hunched over tables of playing cards. Morgan's presence earned her a few leering glances and she wrapped her fist firmly around the hilt of her father's sword. Will caught the wayward glances and pulled Morgan's free hand into his, keeping her close behind him.

They passed through a curtain and into a shadowy backroom where a man who could only be Long John Silver was waiting for them, his features flickering in the lamplight. Over interlaced fingers, his dark eyes glowered.

"I send seven men to kill a thieving cur and retrieve a map," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Only three return. And they seem to be accompanied by the very man who, had they done their fucking job, should be bleeding out in a ditch right now."

Morgan started as a screeching voice sounded from the shadows above: "Devil take ye! Ye bilge rat! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!"

From a perch in the rafters, a grey parrot with a crimson tail was overseeing the proceedings -- and casting judgement.

"Care to explain, Israel?" Silver demanded icily.

Hands scowled: "The wench demanded to be taken to Johnston Sterling."

Silver's eyes flashed: "The wench?"

"Aye," he muttered.

"How do you know my name, girl?" Silver asked, raising a dark brow in her direction.

Will stepped aside slightly and Morgan took a pace forward.

As Silver's hands dropped to the table, she got a better look at his face: Dark, piercing eyes, a black beard streaked with silver, ebony curls just like hers that fell about his ears.

"Well blow me down," he murmured, standing up.

He pulled a wooden crutch under his left shoulder and hopped towards her. Though his left leg was cut off close by the hip, he moved with dexterity.

"You look -- you look just like her," he said, his chest rising and falling sharply as he took her in.

"You know who I am."

"The last time I saw you, you were so small your head fit in the palm of my hand."

He held up a hand so broad that Morgan was almost certain the statement would still be mostly true.

"She wouldn't let me see you after Amara died."

Morgan did not have to ask who 'she' was. Her grandmother had cursed her father until the day she died.

"I had to pry your name out of her," she replied.

He nodded sombrely.

"You mean --" Hands' interrupted, his tone wavering between incredulity and anger. "This is your

daughter

?"

Silver did not look at him: "Aye."

"Well she destroyed the map," Hands hissed.

"I am the map," Morgan countered, glaring at him.

Silver glanced between them, his brow furrowed:"Clearly there is a tale to tell here. Sit, all of you. Topsail, see if you can scrounge up some rum."

"Yo-ho-ho! A bottle of rum!" The parrot screeched, bobbing its head excitedly.

As Charlie nodded and ducked behind the curtain, Silver noticed Will's fingers laced with Morgan's. She expected him to be angry but he merely gave a good-natured scowl.

"Ah, now I see why you're still alive," he said, his eyes twinkling.

He made his way back to his seat: "Hands and the others, they didn't sail with Flint. Me, Topsail, Starkey. We're the last of Flint's crew left now that Pew and Black Dog are dead."

"Black Dog tried to kill Will and Pew tried to kill me," Morgan said, sitting down in the chair Will had pulled out for her. "I did what needed doing."

"She killed Dirk too," Hands grumbled. "Cut his fucking head clean off! And Bones shot Vulgunner and Talib dead."

"I wouldn't have sent you all had I known," Silver said, placing a hand over his heart. "All Black Dog said was Billy Bones was holed up at a country inn. I didn't know it was the Benbow."

Then he chuckled: "Christ, I know better than to get between a Hawkins woman and her heart's fancy."

At that point, Topsail Charlie reentered the room, arms full with a bottle of rum and six pewter mugs.

"Eh, Charlie?" He called. "You remember what happened in Maracaibo?"

"Remember? Damn ye I still have the fucking scars!"

Starkey reached out for the bottle of rum and began pouring: "I don't think I've ever seen a man so fucking terrified in my life."

"To the gutless governor of Maracaibo!" Silver cried, raising his tankard. Starkey and Charlie followed, echoing his toast.

Morgan glanced at Will but he looked just as bewildered as she felt.

Hands snatched up his mug and downed its contents in a gulp before slamming it back on the table, his sour mood clearly not as easily shifted.

"Go on," Silver said, nodding at the untouched mugs in front of Will and Morgan. "I've found rum makes fast friends of even the worst enemies. And it sounds like we all need to become friends again. Don't we, Bones?"

Will set his jaw but nodded, raising his tankard in the air before upending it.

Morgan lifted her glass and held it towards Silver: "To Amara Hawkins."

"Aye!" He cried.

Charlie and Starkey followed suit with equal vigour.

"Now," Silver said, wiping his sleeve against his mouth. "What exactly happened at the old Benbow Inn this night?"

Between Morgan and Will -- and the occasional angry interjection from Hands -- they explained all that had transpired after Pew delivered the black spot.

As the bottle of rum on the table grew precariously close to empty, the sounds from beyond the curtain faded until it seemed they might be the only ones left in the tavern.

"So you're the map then, my girl?" Silver said, swirling his rum.

Morgan nodded: "And I intend to help you find this treasure isle."

Silver knocked his fist against the table, his eyes afire: "That's my girl! We have our eyes on a ship in harbour, ripe for the pickings."

"I would rather not have the navy in our wake from the moment we leave port," she said curtly. "I have friends -- Livesey and Trelawney -- between them, I'm sure they can finance the voyage."

Silver nodded: "Aye, smart as paint you are, my girl."

"They will require a share for their investment."

"Of course, of course!"

"And not a finger is to be laid on either of them, Will or myself."

Silver clapped a hand on his heart and held the other to the ceiling: "I swear it."

Morgan threw a pointed glance at Israel Hands. His upper lip curled but he nodded.

"How long will it take to muster up the rest of the crew needed?" Morgan asked.

"Not long," Silver said with a confident shrug of his shoulders.

"Especially if word gets out about the treasure," Starkey said with a chuckle.

"It better hadn't," Will interjected sharply, glaring at the men around the table. "Not unless you want every man on that ship out to slit the other's throat the first chance they get."

"Aye," Silver agreed sternly. "This must be kept between us at all costs."

Everyone around the table nodded their solemn agreement.

Just a chuckle from Silver and the mood shifted to jovial once again: "It reminds me of Malabar -- aye Starkey, you remember! When we came across the

Cassandra

she was amuck with red blood and fit to sink with gold. The poor, stupid devils!"

"Aye but they never caught Every did they?" Charlie chimed in. "The

Cassandra

was just one of his ships. Bastard's probably still living like a king in Madagascar."

"T'was the

Cassandra

what inspired the song," Silver said, leaning in conspiratorially.

Morgan raised a quizzical brow.

"Now, Barbecue, tip us a stave!" Starkey hollered.

"Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!" The parrot cackled.

"Aye, aye, mates," said Silver, and at once broke out in the words Black Dog had sung:

"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest --"

And the rest of the men bore chorus --

"Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"

Not even Will could help himself from joining in:

Drink and the devil had done for the rest,

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

Fifteen men on whole ship's list,

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist,

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

The booze flowed into the breaking hours of the morning. Morgan sipped slowly, keeping her wits about her even as the men around her got drunker and drunker. When rosy dawn finally peered in through the smoky windows, the men were strewn across the room in various positions. Propped up against a corner, Will passed out with his head in her lap, Morgan caught as much sleep as she could with one eye open.

She was awake -- just barely and wishing she could close her eyes again -- when Silver roused himself with a curse and a yawn. He stretched and pulled himself to his feet, using his crutch to rap on the table.

"Up! Up, you bunch of fleas!"

The parrot joined in the din immediately, flapping her wings and raining curses down on the men below.

"Tell 'em Watra," Silver chuckled.

Starkey's head shot up and then he groaned and buried it in his hands: "Fucking hell."

"Goin' soft, Starkey?" Silver barked cheerfully. "Hands! Charlie! On your feet, lads, by thunder!"

Hands pulled himself upright and glanced around the room. His eyes narrowed when they lit on Morgan: "Oh, so it wasn't a dream."

Morgan ran lazy fingers through Will's hair as she offered the pirate a mocking smile: "Only ever a nightmare to you."

Hands sneered and stood up, shrugging a dark coat over his shoulders.

Will turned over and glanced up at Morgan: "Morning, love."

"Morning," she murmured.

"No time for that, turtle doves," Silver said, hopping across the threshold. "We've got a ship to arrange."

Will stood up and helped Morgan to her feet.

"Livesey'll be easy enough to find," she said, dusting off her skirt. "He should be able to get word to Johnny."

"You'll need to lay low," Will cautioned. "By now, the whole wharf has probably heard about what went on at the Benbow Inn last night."

Morgan sucked her teeth: "You're right -- and that Mr. Thompson's girl has gone missing. I should have faked my death when I had the chance."

She glanced around the room: "I don't suppose any of you have a spare set of clothes lying around?"

Fifteen minutes later, six men left the Spy-Glass Tavern, led by a one-legged man and his vociferous parrot.

Morgan kept her hat pulled low, peering out from beneath the broad, black rim.

"Hands, take Starkey and Charlie, start putting the word out that Barbecue is looking to take on crew -- but, mark! Not a word about where or why," Silver said. "My name should be enough to find the kind of men we'll need for a voyage like this -- life or death and a close run. Meantime, we'll find this Livesey character."

"Aye," Hands said, leading Starkey and Charlie towards the docks with a jerk of his head.

"Follow me," Morgan muttered, abruptly turning down a narrow alley that twisted along until it intersected with Lime Street. She turned right, leading Will and Silver towards the centre of the harbour town until they came to the merchant's exchange. The street was a hub of activity -- men and women barked at each other in an ever-shifting stream of languages, dialects and accents, haggling over the prices of newly arrived goods and island-made products -- and at its midst was a burly man with ginger hair who towered over the rest of the crowd.

Morgan shouldered her way through the crowd, Will and Silver close on her heels.

Livesey was arguing vehemently with a buxom mulatta who was quite clearly holding her own against the blustering trader when Morgan rapped on his shoulder. He waved her off without looking at her. So she reached up and tapped him again.

"What?" He cried, whirling around.

He blinked a couple of times and then his eyes narrowed: "Morgan? Fuck me! Where the hell have you been? There was a bloody massacre at the Benbow last night! Johnny's been beside his self all fucking day!"

"Aye, well tell the whole market about it, would you," Silver snapped.

Livesey straightened: "And who the devil are you?"

"Livesey, meet my father," Morgan muttered. "Long John Silver, meet David Livesey."

"

Father?!

"

"We need to see Johnny," Morgan continued. "You have your cart nearby?"

"Aye, but --" He gestured towards the woman standing nearby, her arms folded across her chest as she waited expectantly.

"Trust me," Will said, leaning forward, "this will be worth your while."

Livesey sighed and tipped his hat towards the woman: "Jamila, I'm afraid we must pick this up later."

"Can't promise ye anything, David," she said, turning on her heel with a flash of her colourful skirt.

He scowled and jammed his hat firmly down on his head: "Come on then."

The trio followed Livesey, piling into his horse-drawn cart. Silver pulled himself onto the seat beside Livesey while Will and Morgan climbed into the back. The trader clicked the reins and they started up the road that led past the town limits and into the mountains.

As the cart rocked along the dirt road, Will's eyes kept drifting towards Morgan.

"What?" She asked with a chuckle.

Will licked his lips and grinned: "I'm not sure how I feel about you in those clothes. Can't wait to take them off you."

A teasing smile played across Morgan's lips when Silver suddenly heaved his crutch into the back of the cart.

"Fuck!" Will exclaimed as the wooden stick came down on his legs.

"Damn me, Bones, did that hit you?" Silver tittered. "Didn't see you there. Had to get the blasted thing out of my way."

Will rolled his eyes and rubbed his shins as Morgan stifled a laugh.

"So, how did you come to know my daughter?" Silver asked, turning to Livesey.

"I've known that little rascal since she was a babe," Livesey chuckled.

"Did you know her mother?"

"Never had the pleasure," Livesey said as he steered the horses off the main road and onto a dirt track. "But her grandmother on the other hand. Hah! Never needed to guess where the fire in that bloodline came."

"Aye, and mine were the fuel," Silver said, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a broad smile.

The parrot on his shoulder began bobbing its head: "Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!"

"That's a fine African Grey," Livesey said approvingly. "They live almost forever I hear."

"Aye and if anybody's seen more wickedness, it must be the devil himself. She's sailed with England - the pirate Cap'n England. She's been at Madagascar, and at Malabar, and Surinam, and Providence, and Portobello. She was at the fishing up of the wrecked plate ships. It's there she learned '

pieces of eight

,' and little wonder!" He said with a deep laugh. "Three hundred and fifty thousand of 'em! She's got a pirate's love for gold in her bones. Even Flint was taken with her. I think he was minded to claim her but she's loyal to a fault. Only ever loved me and Amara -- Morgan's mother."

He turned around halfways in his seat so he could see Morgan: "You know, she would follow your mother into battle? That little tail was like our red pennant."

"No quarter! No quarter! Cleave 'em to the brisket!"

Silver chortled as the parrot launched into her squawking battle cry.

"Battle?" Morgan asked, confusion plainly writ across her face.

"She was legend, her mother was," Silver said, nudging Livesey. "They called her 'Shipbreaker'."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let me guess, your granny spun you a different yarn?" He scoffed over his shoulder. "Your mother just a simple country girl and me the bad man who corrupted her?"

Morgan nodded.

"Lies and slander!" He cried. "Does your mother's memory a disservice, it does. I'd never seen anything like that woman, haven't since nor ever will again!"

He stared wistfully at the sky: "It was love at first sight -- even if she had a knife at my throat. I'd never met a prettier thief. I think Port Royal might have breathed a sigh of relief when she disappeared from Fishers Row but it was short lived. She was an even greater terror on the high seas."

"Hang on one bloody moment - you're saying my mother was a pirate?"

"One of the bloodthirstiest wenches that ever sailed and the only one of which Flint was afeared," he said with a nod. "She had to come back when she fell pregnant with you. I didn't want to leave her but time and tide waits for no man..."

He trailed off and then, with a roll of his shoulders, seemed to shake off the sadness as quickly as it had come upon him.

"If she could see us now! I tell you I think this whole business has the look of Fate about it --"

"Aye, and speaking of which," Livesey interrupted, "I'm damned anxious to learn what exactly this business is."

"Patience, Livesey," Morgan said. "Johnny needs to hear this too."

The cart rocked to a stop outside the manor that served as both Dr. Trelawney's home and practice. Perhaps small and plain compared to the mansion he would have been able to afford had he stayed on in London, it was nevertheless well-appointed and meticulously maintained. Morgan had always felt out of place visiting Johnny at his home and she felt the discomfort all the more keenly now that she was dressed as a man and flanked by pirates.

Johnny was just finishing up with a patient when Livesey led the trio through the main door.

"Keep it clean -- the most important thing is to change those bandages every day," he was saying to a white-haired man as he led him into the main hall. "Alright, Mrs. Ruth will see you out."

As the elderly man shuffled into a nearby room to pay his fee, Johnny's eyes lit on his newest guests.

"Will!" He exclaimed. "Thank God! Where's Morgan? I could hardly sleep last night thinking --"

His voice trailed off as he caught Morgan's eye.

"Morgan?" He cried. "Is that you? What on earth are you wearing? Who the hell is this? What in damnation is going on?"

Morgan pushed to the front of the group and grabbed Johnny's arm: "Come on, let's go into the library before all of Jamaica hears your bawling."

Johnny threw an angry glance at the men trailing behind as Morgan pulled him along.

They filed into the library and Johnny fell into one of the chairs, his arms folded across his chest.

"So you got dragged into this too, eh Livesey?" the young doctor grumbled.

Livesey took a seat near to the window and lit up his pipe. He took a deep inhale of the heady tobacco as he nodded.

"Aye," he said, breathing out spirals of smoke. "This lot of ruffians accosted me at the market. And just as I was about to make a very favourable deal with Jamila, I might add."

He took another long pull of his pipe as the others settled into their seats, except for Morgan who stayed on her feet, leaning against the tall chair Will had chosen.

"So, we're all here," Livesey continued, gesturing around the room. "

Now

will you tell us why they had to cart four dead bodies from the Admiral Benbow Inn this morning?"

"And why the hell you're dressed as a man?" Johnny interjected.

Morgan was succinct as she could be: "Will used to sail with the men who attacked the inn last night. They were pirates acting on orders to kill him and retrieve a treasure map revealing the location of Captain Flint's trove."