Pirates of the Caribbean 3: One Last Shot
Catherine Turner was
not in a pleasant mood. While the four men sitting at the table in
the Tortugan tavern with her laughed and joked, she simply stared
sullenly into her still-full glass of liquor, occasionally swilling
it around. After recovering from a violent fit of laughter, Ryan
Evans put an arm around her waist and drew the young woman closer to
him.
"Come on, Catherine,"
he said kindly, his breath laced with the pungent smell of rum,
"don't feel bad. We'll be back in Port Royal in just a couple of
days, we'll get to see the family, work in the shop..." he
trailed off. Catherine's brown eyes were still trained on the
reddish-colored liquid in her tankard. Evans kissed her on the cheek.
"You did the right thing. It was just meant to be. He would have
died anyway."
Catherine
spoke for the first time since arriving in Tortuga the day before.
"Yes, he may have. But it didn't have to be at my
hands."
"Catherine,
you can't keep beating yourself up over this," Evans said, "Yes,
Ryan Barbossa is dead, but that's over with. We've moved on, we're
going back home, starting a new life. Maybe it would be good for you
if you did the same."
Jack
Sparrow smiled after swallowing a mouthful of rum. "Look on the
bright side, eh?" he said, "You've got young Evans here,
ready to give his life for you, and instead of having two lads to
fight over you, the decision is already made. And Evans here is
unscathed and ready to-"
At this, Will Turner cut in before
Jack could say something stupid, as he most assuredly would. "Jack
Sparrow, I insist you hold your tongue," Will ordered with a
slight grin. "You don't want to be suggesting anything about my
daughter while I'm around."
Jack
took another pull from his glass and looked up defensively. "I
was just going to state the obvious, is all."
Catherine
glared at him for a moment, a feeling in her stomach about what he
would have said. "In any case, I will be glad to get home. It
will be nice to take a load off my feet for awhile."
After
a moment's silence, Gibbs rose, picking up his now-empty beaker.
"Anyone else game fer another'n?" he asked. Evans,
Catherine, and Will shook their heads absently, but Jack took him up
on the offer.
"I'd be
happy to," Jack said, standing to join Gibbs. Taking their cups,
Gibbs and Jack departed to the bar for a refill, leaving the others
to their own thoughts.
A
moment after the pair left the three in silence, a wiry, thin aging
man stumbled over to the group, causing Catherine, who was seated
closest to the edge, to jump in alarm. Quickly, Evans put his arm
around her protectively, and the clearly inebriated old man rose. The
man had a thinning crop of silvery hair and a toothless grin. He wore
nothing other than a pair of tattered and mud stained pants and a
weather-beaten long coat, and one of his eyes was a glassy platinum
blue color. His grey beard was tangled beyond help and was stained
red in places from spilling his liquor. The man slunk over to lean on
the bench that Catherine and Evans sat upon and pointed a long,
knobby finger at the young pair.
"The
Fates," he rasped slowly and almost unintelligibly, "once
said that he who kills is killed in return, and he who would curse
bears that which he wished upon another."
Catherine
drew in closer to Evans as the man spoke, his eyes rolling about in
his head. "Wait," she asked, not understanding his meaning,
"wh-what do you mean?" But the man had left, gone as
suddenly as he had appeared.
Will turned his head
slowly to look at Catherine and Evans, a strange and concerned look
on his face. "Who was that?" he asked rhetorically, "Or
better yet, what was it?"
"I'm
just curious about what the blazes he was talking about," Evans
said, rubbing Catherine's shoulder comfortingly.
"Well,"
Catherine supplied, "the one thing i do know is that that was a
little strange."
Just then,
Gibbs and Jack reappeared, each with a full, sloshing glass of rum.
"What was strange?" Gibbs inquired, taking a seat beside
Will.
The three others looked
tentatively at one another for a moment. Will smiled sheepishly.
"Well..." he
began.
"Thank
you sir. Master Evans; let's get that sail up. Will, would you be so
kind as to take the helm for a moment? Good man," Jack's voice
echoed across the deck of the Pursuit.
It
was the next morning, and the five companions were preparing for
their departure form the port in Tortuga. The docks were alive with
the sound of hammering, shifting canvas, and the shouts of men as the
hot Caribbean sun rose steadily into the cloudless blue sky.
"Catherine!" Jack barked at the
young woman from his place across the deck. "Catherine! Are you
going to stand there all day, staring down at the waves, or are you
going to lend your sweetheart a hand with those sails?"
The
young woman, who had until then been gazing silently into space,
snapped back into reality. Walking over to join Evans, she was
immediately apologetic.
"I'm
sorry, Ryan. Really I am. I just can't get Barbossa off my mind. And
now, with what that man said last night...I can't help but think I
was wrong to kill him."
Evans
briefly hugged her, looking down into her chocolate-colored eyes, a
loving smile on his clear face. "Don't worry. We'll be home
within a day or so, and we can start a new life together. You'll see.
Everything will be set right," he said, kissing her, "I
promise."
"If you say so,"
she replied with a dubious smile. The pair set to loosing the sails
while Will and Jack steered the Pursuit out of the port and
set a course for Port Royal. The very next morning, just as the sun
was beginning its ascent into the heavens, a familiar strip of
horizon came into view.
"Land
ho!" came the shout from the rigging as Will, Catherine, and
Evans rushed to the ship's edge to see the growing shape of Port
Royal as it came closer. Soon, the Pursuit pulled into a back
dock, out of view of the main harbor. While Will and Catherine threw
ropes over the side of the ship, Evans hopped onto the dock with
Gibbs to tie them. Jack remained at the helm, staring over the
horizon.
"Erm, Jack?"
Evans posed, pausing momentarily in his work, "W - would you
mind lending me a hand?"
Jack
seemed to snap out of some reverie and turned to face the boy. "I
would, dear boy, were I not the only one looking out, ye see. Think
of this - in the event that I were to lend this hypothetical hand,
leaving no one to keep a weather eye on the goings-on in this little
harbor, what if some devilish fiend in the grand style of one former
Commodore Norrington decided to hijack our little Pursuit and
kill us all? Now, I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound like
much of a good time to me."
Evans
stood silent for a moment, one eyebrow raised at Jack, who had since
turned back to his watch. With a shake of his head, Evans went back
to his work. Gibbs chuckled.
"What's
so funny?" Evans asked, indignant.
"It's
just that ye would think that after knowin' Jack Sparrow as long as
ye have, ye would know that he ain't one to do an easy favor,"
Gibbs laughed in reply.
Evans set
his jaw, looking briefly at Gibbs out of the corner of his eye.
"Well, I'm done anyway," he muttered, tying the last of the
ropes to the dock. He caught Catherine as she hopped down onto the
dock and with Will, Jack, and Gibbs, the pair started off down the
road towards the
Turners' home.
Meanwhile,
at the Turner household, a search was on. The youngest Turners,
thirteen-year-old twins Michael and James, had been missing for
several hours, and Elizabeth was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Though she constantly reminded herself that nothing could possibly go
wrong, that they were just boys being boys, her maternal instincts
kept her wary. She had scoured the house from floor to ceiling at
least eight times to no avail.
"Victoria!"
Elizabeth called, starting to wring her hands unconsciously,
"Victoria, have you had any luck yet?"
The
Turners' other daughter, Victoria, recently turned fifteen, came
slowly down the grand staircase in their house, shaking her head.
"Mother," she said with a scowl, "They're boys.
They're bound to get out sometime. And besides, Father and Catherine
and the rest are due back any day. The way the twins idolize Jack
Sparrow and that Evans chap, it's little wonder if they were down at
the docks waiting for them."
Elizabeth
gasped, letting loose a slight sigh of relief. "Oh, that's
right. Wait - that's right! What are we doing sitting around here? We
have to get ready for when they arrive! Quick," she said,
dashing to the side of the stairway and sliding back a trick panel.
Elizabeth pulled out a bundle of clothing from the hidden compartment
and handed some of the bundle to Victoria. "Put these on. Oh, I
don't know if they'll fit - but, all the same, we can't have you
dressed as - "
Victoria unfolded the clothing her
mother had handed her as Elizabeth talked with increasing speed. She
held up a hand to halt her mother for a moment. "Wait, Mother.
First of all, why on Earth do you have shirts and breeches hidden
under the stairs?"
Elizabeth stopped
talking and stared at her daughter, panting slightly. She looked
first at the clothing Victoria was holding up, then at her daughter.
"Oh," she answered with a slight nervous chuckle, "no
reason."
