DMTNT 5

Mr. Gibbs proved to be an excellent guide to this foul, fish-smelling city, and led me to a short, ancient man who had in his possession literally wardrobes full of every kind of dress, costume and suit. It was easy to find two suits of the kind and quality an English solicitor may wear. Also, we were able to procure two nondescript livery uniforms for a pair of retainers. My only hope is that the one I chose for Groves fits. I had to guess best as I could to his size. It would have been better if I could have brought him, Mr. Murtogg and Mr. Mullroy with us. However, Gibbs assured me that such a crowd would only cause distrust and shut down communication between ourselves and our potential suppliers. Having known such operations as these (mostly upon breaking them in the name of the law), I could see Mr. Gibbs' logic in this matter.

I returned to the

This was not the same, sharp-eyed, polished officer James had come to admire and respect. His curling hair was unwashed and quite greasy from sweat. His face was far from freshly shaven. His long neck, so often hidden beneath a flawless cravat showed the loss of fat from the man, markedly, by the sharp pronunciation of Adam's apple. His feet were dirty, and from what James could see of their bottoms by the idle curl of his toes, the flesh there was black.

Jonathan Groves looked up swiftly, and upon noticing who had called his name, nimbly slipped from the hammock. He put the book aside on the bedding and stood before James.

"Mr. James," he addressed him dutifully, using the name the Pearl's crew had been instructed to use.

It seemed to James that Groves' complexion darkened in the poor light of the berth hold. He looked away from James and swallowed.

James nodded in understanding. It was not an easy life on a pirate ship. James had learned that as a deck-hand. But now he led the life of so-called privilege on a pirate ship as the first mate and captain's man. It was in his power to make Groves' lot easier, but James had to wonder if it would only be a superficial gesture. The men already disliked him in their own special way. Why drag Groves down into it?

James decided to forge ahead with his plan. Putting himself at parade rest, he addressed Groves as he would have back at Fort Charles. "I have a job for you. Our mission will not be easy, and will require the utmost patience and discipline. This is why I have chosen you. You have shown me time and again that you possess the character, fortitude, and steel to face heavy odds and follow orders."

"What are my orders?" Groves asked, and it seemed to James that the man's posture had somehow slid naturally into pure military attention.

"You will accompany me on a mission of intelligence gathering," James replied. He then looked Groves over critically as he stood so still before him.

Groves breathed out in what amounted to a resigned sigh. "They say you are the captain's personal whore, if that is what you mean."

James looked at Groves who seemed deeply troubled, but not so much by the news that his former commanding officer was willingly allowing a pirate to bugger him.

Groves looked up at him with troubled eyes. "How could you know when we had to keep it so secret? We feared your knowledge most of all! Our careers, even our lives would have been over... and I would have done anything to protect my Drew...."

"Then he died on board the Dauntless," James added softly, "while I chased the pirate that eluded my reach and haunted my dreams. Folly disguised in duty."

James sighed and looked away as he felt the realization settle upon him. "You hate me as well."

"No, sir," Groves said, making James look back up into his eyes. "I will not hate you for that which you did not know. I cannot fault you for ignorance that we wished upon you."

"Then I may rely on you?" James asked carefully. "Will you follow me again as your commanding officer?"

Groves' eyes remained sad, but he stood proud before James. "Yes, you may rely on me. I hold no grudge, for I understand what it is to follow a forbidden dream. I'll not deny it from you or any man," Groves said in a quiet but dignified tone.

"Tell me that you love me!" Jack demanded in a determined growl. He nipped angrily at James' lower lip and rubbed himself wantonly against James' body.

Jack gave no quarter. His hand reached into James' shirt so that his fingers could pinch and tweak James' nipples. His mouth devoured James voraciously. His tongue tasted James repeatedly just at the pulse point on his throat and below his jaw.

"Mine," Jack growled. James would have asked what had gotten into his lover, but he was never given the opportunity. Instead, he was manhandled over to the navigation table while a hand fumbled in crazed frustration at his belt. Jack was everywhere at once, nipping at James' lips, pulling James' shirt tails from his breeches, running his fingernails lightly and slowly over James' chest and belly.

It was intoxicating the way Jack was both needy and forceful. His lust was compelling and James felt swept up in its fury. Jack sunk to his knees before James, a position that always made James weak in the knees. James grabbed the edge of the navigation table, holding on for dear life as Jack fought restlessly with fastens of James' breeches. Jack still growled; his heavy-handed conduct threatening to pull buttons from fabric. He freed James' prick which was growing heavy and solid with excitement, but Jack didn't wait. With an angry grunt, he took the shaft into his mouth.

"Jack!" James breathed out explosively as pleasure coursed through his being. He was being sucked off without mercy. Jack's growls now vibrated about his member. The sounds of Jack's obscene slurping, a sound that James might have found distasteful at another time, only drove James' lust higher.

James thighs trembled, and he lost his breath. Panting and moaning like a crazed man, James reached down with one trembling hand to touch Jack's face. Jack batted the hand away.

He released James' cock to growl a few short commands. "Tell me you love me! Again! Again!" He growled and spat the word 'again' angrier each time James complied.

Without warning, Jack nuzzled into James' bollocks. He seemed to be drinking in James' scent with each deep, ragged breath.

James shivered when he felt the wet tickle of Jack's tongue touch his sac. He held on tighter as the sensations threatened his equilibrium.

Jack grabbed his hips and forced James to turn. Now James was bent over the table, his hands splayed across the surface. He felt Jack licking upward from behind his bollocks.

"Mmmm!" came Jack's satisfied moan as he licked at the entrance to James' body. James shuddered and groaned in response.

"Mine," Jack whispered against James' tender flesh there. James could feel the scratch and tickle of Jack's whiskers.

Jack's tongue played nimbly at James' entrance, making sparks of pleasure dance along his flesh.

"Wait. Stay," Jack commanded. Then Jack was up, rushing off to their private cabin. He returned quickly holding the pot of salve they used for intercourse. Jack was swiftly back down on his knees behind James. His hot, wet tongue went back to work between James' buttocks.

Then it was Jack's fingers at his entrance, slick and smooth. They breached his tight opening and began to tease and stroke inside of James. James moved back against them wanting more, craving more.

"Sweetling!" Jack breathed against one of James' buttocks as he used two fingers, pushing in deeply. James let out a small cry as those fingers brushed that magical spot inside him that made pleasure burst like lightening all over his being. James was opened, and Jack's ministrations were not gentle, but they were thorough.

Jack stood. There was a moment of deafening anticipation that was not expressed in words but in the sounds of clothing being removed swiftly and heedlessly. Then Jack had James by the hips, the blunt end of his member pressed against James' opening. Slowly it sank in, taking James breath away as it filled him.

Jack's hands were on James' body as he moved in a steady rhythm, pushing in deeply with each thrust. Jack smoothed his hands up James' back, held his shoulders firmly for a time; then one hand slipped down James' chest, fingernails raking lightly through chest hair. His fingers tweaked at a nipple once more, and James gasped and sighed.

James took a hand off the table and put it around his own erection upon Jack's command. He began to stroke himself to the rhythm set by Jack's motion. He was lost, so very lost in the pleasure and the possession. He belonged to Jack and no other. He wanted Jack and no other. Within his pleasure, a deep fear burst forth, a seed planted and taking root. He couldn't hold it back. He couldn't quiet its voice in his mind and soul. As Jack's motions sped, as James began to recognize the beginning of the end. As his own fist pulled desperately at his aching member, the fear blossomed into sweet need that made a beautiful ache in his heart. And he cried out as he came:

Jack was coming inside him, growling like a feral animal. He shook for a moment, in the grips of his orgasm, and then fell silent, leaning against James' back as he caught his breath.

"Love you, my James," said in the softest and sweetest of whispers. "My James...."

James closed his eyes for a moment and soaked in the warmth of his lover against him. Then Jack eased off him carefully, pulling himself free from James' body. He helped James upright and pulled him into his arms. Jack took hold of the hand that James had used to pull himself off and was smeared with James' own seed. Jack licked it clean.

"Rum in my tea," Jack answered enigmatically. He then reached up to guide James down to his lips. They kissed deeply, relaxing in the intimate glow of love on fire.

"You are in a rare mood," James said softly as Jack continued to massage his scalp.

"Am I?" Jack said. "That I should want to wash my beautiful James and have my hands all over his sweet person? Sounds much like the same self-serving, wholly vulgar and self-seeking type of modus operandi of my selfish self."

Jack listened to James' rich chuckle; inside, his soul melted like butter in the Caribbean sun. But Jack only smiled his wicked, wolfish smile.

James chuckled throatily once more. "You may 'treat' me to death, Jack. I'm worn to a shadow."

"Nay, love," James replied. "I just need a moment to recover... maybe a day? A week perhaps?"

It was Jack's turn to laugh, and he made his laugh like the rumbling purr of a great cat. "We may parley on this. I could see my way to agreeing to terms, if that's what you be needin', luv."

James was smiling, his head relaxed in Jack's sure grip. "Then you have laid siege to my love. Should I run up the white flag?"

Jack nuzzled a few kisses against James' neck, just below his ear. "Are you sure it's not me who is under siege, sweetling?" he whispered against James' ear. "Consider this, sweet-James, for a year my only want was to hold you fast in me arms again. My only goal was to free you to walk the waves with me. I turned my whole life upside down to call you my own. I'd do it again.... I'd die for you."

Beckett is one big, damn, bloody liar. He is a feculent piece of vomitous offal that can, unfortunately, talk.

And mayhaps I am the fool for letting him get to me so. I always knew that my James was ashamed of what he let Beckett do to him, so I let him keep it to himself. Then, like a fool, I let Beckett play me like a jealous coquette.

I sent my beautiful James off to bed, fresh and clean and vowed not to do anything to muss him. That, mate, was not easy. But as ol' Teague always told me: patience is more than a virtue. It's also a means to an end. I shall curb my want of my sweetling. Yes, I have motives other than allowing him breath and space.

This early morn I rose with him and watched him as he went about setting himself into his disguise. He is well suited to look the clean and refined gentleman... of course he is! I've gone daft, mate. Pardon. And I haven't even had any rum yet.

Nevertheless, in that black silk suit with its long coat with gray trim, gray waist coat, perfect milk-cream cravat, and gray stockings and buckled shoes, he is lean and aristocratic beyond all belief. I was waiting for him to pull a powdered wig from the bag of effects he had bought. He did not.

"Why should I want to do such when I have you, luv?" Jack replied as he brushed imaginary dust specks from James' shoulders.

"I would not be the success I am today if I didn't know when t' recognize a fine asset," Jack replied cheerfully. He then gave James' arse a quick squeeze. James batted at the offending hand.

James pulled his men together on deck in the foggy pre-dawn gloom. They had a map that they had bought for a nominal fee from one of Sao Linjing's men. It was a sanctioned map that showed the safest route and also promised the proffered protection that was a point of honor to the still disgruntled Linjing.

Jack watched with a troubled look as James marched off down the gangplank followed by Groves, who wore an equally fine, dark suit, and Mr. Murtogg and Mr. Mullroy, who wore matching deep burgundy uniforms and carried muskets.

"T' gather intelligence," Gibbs said as he watched at Jack's side. "Too many things can go wrong when a body is snoopin' and spyin'."

"Too many things have gone wrong when a body rushes into a trap he should have snooped about firstly," Jack replied. Then his brows lowered deeper as he thought. He raised a finger. "All the same, Gibbs, have our little spy foray followed... insurance. Can never have too much insurance."

Gibbs nodded then bustled off to find Mr. Marty and Mr. Ragetti. As the two chosen men approached, Jack joined them at the top of the plank. Gesturing onward with a quick flip of his wrist he preceded them down to the dock.

Jack swiveled back to look at Gibbs blandly. "Mind the ship... don't lose it this time."

This Lord Barwell did not live far from the ruins of Beckett's Singapore home. It appears that this city is cut in sections, like so many others. And the district we were currently treading in was populated mostly by the men of means who represented foreign trade companies that saw Singapore as a natural crossroads between the edge of the outer empire in India and the far East. As we made our way, we saw well appointed homes that flew Dutch, Danish, French and Portuguese flags as well. These were all the wealthy speculators making their inroad. I imagine it shan't be long before this city is claimed in the name of some crown to further their lucrative spice trade interest.

Groves actually looks far more himself in his black coat and waistcoat. The simple brushed black felt tricorn fits well over his curls. Our liveried escorts move with much their old military posture and purpose once they were place in a uniform and given the handling of familiar weapons again. I began to feel the part, actually, long before the docks and the Black Pearl were out of sight.

"My name is Mr. Nigel James; this is my associate Mr. Jonathan Arbor. We represent the Caribbean estate of the late Lord Beckett. I fear we have forgotten to bring our cards with us, nevertheless, we have pressing business with your master, Lord Barwell."

James and Groves proceeded to follow Lord Barwell's servant while Murtogg and Mullroy took up a position just within the foyer of the home, as was customary and respectful for such private guards.

James and his companion were led through though a marbled hall and before a grand stair. To the right of that stair was what James presumed to be a morning room. The room was indeed so, with tall, elegant windows and sheer white curtains allowing in the cheerful morning sunlight coming off the front garden. The light shone on the rich wood of the floor's trim and furnishings, bringing a rosy-golden glow from the polished cherry wood. The table in the room was laid out for an early breakfast with a pristine white linen cloth, bordered with a delicate lace, silverware and fine porcelain china settings. A crystal goblet with orange juice sat next to a matching crystal decanter filled with the same.

The majordomo directed them to sit at the two chairs provided across the table from the master's chair. He then informed them that his lordship would be down directly. The servant left them in the quiet room.

"Certainly his lordship has made himself quite at home in this dirty fishing village," Groves remarked.

"Do not be deceived by Singapore's outward appearance," James cautioned. "This 'dirty fishing village' is in line to become the greatest port crossing between Bombay and Macau. The nation who places itself in the right position with the right powers stands to profit greatly. Lord Barwell has set himself up for success and a possible elevation to viceroy provided politics back home still play in his favor. That is the trick with these kinds of moves. You must metaphorically keep kettles boiling over two separate fires worlds away from each other. "

Two servants came into the room and sat out two place settings before James and Groves, and a third place was set beside the place prepared for their host. James was about to wonder outloud about who would be joining them when a young woman entered the room. She wore a vibrant blue dress that gave much credit to her petite frame. Her dark hair was coiffured in neat ringlets that spilled artfully down her right shoulder. She smiled as she gave a small curtsy to the two men already seated in the morning room. Jack and James rose to acknowledge the entrance of a lady.

"Gentlemen, my father will be down shortly," the young lady said in a small voice that James was sure would eventually grate his nerves in time if he had to endure it for too long. "I am Eva."

"Lady." James bowed with a pleasant smile to acknowledge her rank. "I am Mr. Nigel James and here is my associate, Mr. Jonathan Arbor."

"Our Mr. Teek mentioned something about the Caribbean," she said as she swept her way into the room and around to the place setting next to the head of the table. James rounded the table to pull the chair for the lady to be seated.

"We have come from Jamaica," James said as he helped the lady to settle in her chair. "The harbor of Port Royal to be exact."

"Oh?" the young lady said. "I've heard just awful things of the goings on there. Pirates and savages, and the governor and his daughter were recently killed, as was one of my father's dearest friends!"

"There have been some unpleasant happenings," James agreed. "It is of these happenings that prompted our voyage here." James went back to his place and he and Groves took their seats. They had hardly settled in when the door to the morning room opened again.

Lord Richard Barwell was a rotund man of about the same age as Weatherby Swann had been at the time of his death. He wore a freshly powdered, curling wig whose gray locks fell about his shoulders. He also wore a rich gold and red Oriental paisley print silk morning coat over his waistcoat, fine linen shirt, silk cravat, and trousers.

James and Groves both rose again. "Lord Barwell," James said as he and Jonathan bowed.

"I see you two have met my curious little gossip-box of a daughter, Eva," his lordship said with a loving and indulgent smile to the lady. He moved over to the table, taking his seat with care. His quite large person barely fit between the arms of the chair. "No doubt she has been picking your brains on the happenings in the Caribbes. The news we get is very filtered after the long voyages."

James and Jonathan sat down once more with his lordship's permission which came as a negligent wave. "One can understand the lady's concern," James said soberly. "The news out of the Caribbean territories is grave indeed. The company suffered many losses due to pirates, and the crown lost its viceroy of Jamaica. Lord Beckett and his flagship, the Endeavor, were defeated by a coalition of these brigands."

"Nasty affairs, indeed!" Barwell agree vehemently. "To lose such a bright and rising star in the company as dear Cutler. His father was one of my dearest friends and I promised him on his deathbed that I would look after Cutler as if he were my very own. From that day to this, I have always considered the boy my own son. We grieved for him...." His lordship took up a lace napkin to blot at imaginary moisture at the corners of his eyes.

James gave the man a moment with his so-called grief, but he soon continued, getting to the matters at hand. "We were surprised to find that Lord Beckett's estate here in Singapore had been burnt to the ground by an anti-Johor faction..."

"Anti-Johor?" Barwell harrumphed. "Pirate scum. They flout the current Johor government's rule. They clog the waters with their foul presence; stealing from every ship they can and selling it here in their black markets. Opium, spices, jewels, precious woods, ivory... nothing is sacred. Brigands and thieves, the lot! They burned down Lord Beckett's home in their misguided idea of justice."

"Yes," Barwell continued in a outraged tone. "As if he, a loyal British nobleman, could have wronged that lot of scum and felons."

James turned slightly to look at Jonathan who gave James a neutral yet knowing look.

"Be that as it may, my lord," James continued. "As the representative of Lord Beckett's Caribbean interest, it is my job to pull together the reminder of his late lordship's assets that are to be sent, in accordance to his will, back to his ancestral seat in England. Once there, it is to be divided between those designated in his will as his heirs."

"Then it is fortunate that Father moved most of Lord Beckett's priceless art collection to our home long before those nasty pirates set fire to his estate," Lady Eva said with a sunny smile.

Lord Barwell turned his head swiftly to his daughter with a quick and tempestuous frown. He then cleared his throat and put a much more pleasant look on his face as he looked back at James and Jonathan. "Yes, well... I had concerns about security. The house was not adequately protected in Cutler's absence... and those brigands! Well, the filthy lot cannot be trusted, as you can obviously see. Yes, it was very fortunate that I moved dear Cutler's most treasured possessions when I did, or there would have been nothing for you to inventory and return."

Of course this Barwell lubber lives not but a small walk away from Cutty's old haunt. Must have been a short trip to rob the house, to be sure. Not that Barwell lifted a finger in such manual labor.

I have a small acquaintance with Lord Barwell. He was one of the famous seven of my infamous escape, and if I recall him correctly, he is a fat, flatulent buffoon.

Nevertheless, I am a fortunate man this day. Mr. Marty has acquired us rope and grapple. The gangly Mr. Ragetti is good at scrambling up things as am I. I need only worry about his unfortunate lack of depth perception that makes him a bit more on the bungling and clumsy side.

However, to make up for this, I am in love, and with my love, apparently has come the very handy and practical faculty of being able to home in on my love wherever he may be. For, at our arrival across the road to the Barwell home, I pulled me spyglass t' look over the house-proper. And what did my eye land on after only a moment's glance?

In a second story window did I see my sweetling's un-wigged head as he moved with such easy aristocratic grace before the billowing lace curtains.

"Gentlemen," Jack spoke to Mr Marty and Ragetti who crowded the bushes next to him. "We need t' get in that room right there!"

Jack pointed to the window that he had seen his James through only a scant second before.

After watching his lordship consume a breakfast that would have split the sides of some of the heartiest men of my acquaintance, he led us up stairs to the room where he has said to have stored some of the most valuable objects that he collected from Beckett's estate.

Unfortunately, the Lady Eva chose to join us.

Lord Barwell's daughter might have been a pleasant creature if only she chose to keep her mouth closed. She lacked the mental skill to truly engage in the finer discourse of polite society and often presented herself as trifling and callow. Nothing of true consequence held her imagination, and to top off the Lady's very annoying presence were the high, grating tones that issued from her throat. Her manner is purely simpering and clinging. And I apparently hold some fascination for the poor girl. As we began our walk up the long, formal stair, she, quite uninvited, took my arm and began to prattle on about how she had heard the Caribbean was hot and barely fit for human habitation.

To add insult to injury, I believe that Groves is markedly amused by the whole affair. He keeps stifling coughs behind us. He tells us that the fish-smelling air from out of doors is not agreeing with him, but I know better! And his eyes are dancing with mirth.

There was also a selection of priceless weaponry: a six-brace of ivory handled pistols, a few ornamental daggers, and swords, scimitars, and dadaos of every description, and all of them well-crafted and graceful in form with gilded and bejeweled hilts.

"Mind you, sirs, this is not the lot of it," Lord Barwell stated as they looked about.

"Impressive," James said as he lifted a scimitar to examine it. "I had not known there were so many fine weapons."

"Fine weapons only look fine when held by a fine gentleman," the Lady Eva said pointedly, fluttering her eyelashes up at James.

James used the distraction to disentangle himself from the lady's grasp. He went to the window. "With your lordship's permission, I believe my dear fellow needs some fresh air."

James undid the latch and threw open the windows. The lace curtains billowed in the morning breeze.

"Much better. Thank you, Mr. James," Groves replied and cleared his throat once more.

"Yes, Singapore is a dirty city," Lord Barwell said with sympathy. "But it is a growing city as well. Lord Beckett and his esteemed father recognized this very early on. Now British interest has the higher hand here. The Company may yet be in a position to gain a deal of legal governance with the Johor who tend to keep to the mainland."

"The Johor's disinterest and detachment would seem to suggest that a much more forceful take-over would save the company in capital," James suggested.

"Ah!" his lordship laughed, raising a finger to emphasize the point. "You were not attentive to the lessons that guided the business hand of your late boss, Mr. James. Cutler Beckett knew that the Johor rule was flimsy and haphazard, but any attempt to force the hand would bring the full attention of not just the Johor but of their allies. That would have set us in a conflict, which would have burned more capital, in the end. It is often wise to not rock the boat, so to speak, with these savage nations."

"Forgive my temerity, my lord," James said with a small smile that was meant to be humble but may have missed the mark. He also made a deferring head bow. "I've experienced only the Caribbean where the native inhabitances are fewer and much less sophisticated."

"Is it true that the savages in the Spanish territories eat their enemies?" the Lady Eva asked with a wide-eyed fascination that was mixed with a small part of horror.

The Lady breathed out a sigh as she looked up James with a simpering expression.

"They eat their friends," James added smoothly. He then walked on to look over a collection of small statuettes that represented each of the Greek gods of the main pantheon. James picked up one of Poseidon with his trident. He was riding a beast that was quite similar in appearance to the Kraken of popular sea lore. He heard the lady make a small squeaking gasp behind him and had a moment of uncharitable satisfaction.

As he examined the statuette, he wondered why it and its small brothers and sisters were here as "precious" among the other valuable possessions. The small alabaster statuettes were certainly just curios and decorative pieces, but of no great value.

"Cutler seemed to treasure those greatly," Barwell said, walking up to James' side. "I personally see no value in them whatsoever. Nevertheless, they were a pride and joy to him. I believe he had them personally commissioned."

That was worth knowing, James thought. Beckett had the statues specially made for himself. James put the statuette down.

"He was not much a follower of the mystic," Lord Barwell continued as he walked on from James to look over much more valuable statues from the Orient that had pearls and jewels set in their forms. "But he seemed drawn to the objects generated by myths of fantastic supernatural powers. What fascination they held for him, I was never sure. Certainly they were a curiosity, and so many beautiful and priceless pieces have been the results of the belief in the mysterious forces."

"Lord Beckett was also an enthusiast of sea lore," James added. "He had actually found a way to use the legends that caused fear and superstition in the pirates that ranged the Caribbean territories. Unseen, supernatural fear can be a rather valuable deterrent."

Lord Barwell laughed. "Fear of the immaterial, Cutler called it once in a letter to myself and other company partners. These simple sailors and pirates were easy to control."

Dead Men Tell No Tales

Chapter 5