Conversation with a Dead Man
It was well after midnight and The Black Pearl was slipping smoothly across the gentle waves under a great golden-yellow disk of a summer moon. Alone in his cabin, Captain Jack Sparrow had been studying the charts captured from a recent prize, and enjoying the company of a bottle of finest Cognac seized in the same venture. Smooth stuff that liquor, it went down so much easier than his normal rum, so it was easy to mistake how much he'd had. He hardly noticed as his eyes grew heavy and his head began to nod.
As he slumped forward his hand relaxed, releasing the bottle and sending a slow flood of brandy across the map-strewn table. He stirred just in time to rescue the papers from the advancing sticky tide.
"Ye didn't want to be doin' that, did ye Jack?" came a soft voice from the shadows in the corner.
"Wha'?" muttered Jack. Perhaps Gibbs had come in for a bit of company.
"Not like you to be wastin' a nice bit o' drink" it was stronger now, but the voice still sounded hoarse and seemed to echo rather a lot, even in the confined space of the cabin.
"Go away, I'll see you in the morning." Bloody pirates, barging in to talk to him at all hours. Problems with the ship, with their crewmates, their girls, embarrassing diseases he didn't even want to think about let alone see. He was Captain Jack Sparrow the most fearsome pirate to roam the oceans, not some combination of priest, healer and miracle-worker. Well, one or two miracles perhaps, on special occasions, when an opportune moment presented itself
"Oh I think ye'll see me now" The voice now seemed horribly familiar, and there he was, large as life and twice as, well, decayed to be perfectly accurate, standing in the lamplight and leering. His teeth were even more horrible than Jack remembered. Big hat, mad eyes, bad skin and that scar on his cheek from a knife fight in a Tortuga tavern. The only thing missing was that stinking monkey.
"Go away" Jack muttered.
"No"
"You're just the brandy"
"I must refute your supposition" even more teeth, or at least the horrid remains of them, were exposed as the apparition saw the look of befuddlement on Jack's face. "Means 'no I'm not.'"
"You're dead"
"Jack, Jack. I've been dead for years. Why should I let a triflin' thing like that stop me?"
"But I killed you. With a pistol."
Barbossa rolled his eyes "I know Jack. I was there, and it did make a big impression. Saved the shot for ten years and everythin' you did"
"So why are you here?"
"I'm here to tell ye that I did not appreciate your efforts Jack. Downright hurt I was, at the way you treated me. But since you never had the decency to stay dead every time I thought I'd seen the back of you, I thought I could return the favour."
"What?" It was late. Lots of brandy. Maybe, just maybe, a little too much brandy.
"The Black Pearl was a ghost ship for ten years Jack. And now you have her back and your very own ghost to go with ye, wherever ye may go."
Author's Note: I tried to get that lovely rhythm that Barbossa has when he speaks. I'd be interested to know if you think I've managed it.
This works fine as a standalone thing I think - after all, maybe it is just the brandy talking. But maybe I could have fun with this... a sort of pirate version of Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased), except that this time the haunter and hauntee are definitely NOT friends!