Their audience-a brown-haired woman in the uniform of a Captain of Gov. Elaine's pirate army, nodded fractionally. "The next part I know. You sent me a note--all of three lines, I think it was. 'Dear Sis: Got married, hope to see you soon. Love: Guybrush'."
"That sounds about right" put in Elaine with a sidelong look at her husband.
"It was a little bit more than that" protested Guybrush at the same time, trying to look innocent.
Chariset Threepwood tried not to roll her eyes. "And so I came as soon as I could get away. Governor Phatt was still making trouble on Booty Island up until just recently." She had the same soft curly hair and long fingers as her twin, but her mother's shorter nose and penetrating blue eyes. I think he--or his officers--would love to annex Booty if they had the chance. But the natives won't stand for it." She showed her teeth in a brief grin. "All of their food budget would go into feeding that overweight lump, and they know it."
The two ladies went into a conversation about island politics for some time--Guybrush stayed out of it. For one, he didn't know much about politics, for two he was just pleased to see Chariset and Elaine getting along. He'd been worried about that--but from the moment she had landed on the Sea Cucumber's deck, just off the coast of Plunder Island, she and Elaine had taken a liking to one another. She was planning to stay for about a week, then she and her crew would have to return to duty around Mêlée and Booty. But in a year Elaine's term of office would be over-and Chariset's service in her army as well. Perhaps then she would go travelling with the two of them when that was done--they wanted to visit Blood Island again and maybe go exploring outside of the Caribbean. Nothing was really nailed down as yet-that made Elaine nervous, but Guybrush liked it that way. After all, he was a-
"Guybrush?" Elaine broke into his musings. It's getting dark--we should head in." It was dark--unnaturally so for this time of the afternoon--as they walked out of the captain's cabin and onto the deck. The sky was slowly clouding over and the waves had turned a flat, dull gray.
"That's odd," remarked Chariset. "This is the wrong time of year for a northerly wind..." Elaine also was casting an uneasy eye on the clouds.
There was a feeling of wrongness in the air, but Guybrush couldn't place it. "Shall we take your ship, Chariset?"
She was pleased by the offer, he could tell. "The Seahorse is ready for your use, Captain Threepwood."
In the brief time it took Guybrush to inform Haggis McMutton, his first mate, of their decision, the wind had come up. Triangular waves danced between the two ships and the sky was entirely overcast.
"Better hurry, before it breaks on us" Guybrush commented. A rumble of thunder punctuated his words. Elaine had already climbed up on the railing of the Sea Cucumber with a dangling piece of rope from the Seahorse wrapped around her hands. She grinned and waved as she pushed off-
-and the wind struck with a howling force. Elaine stiffened in surprise as the gale hit her midway through the swing, and the rope slipped through her fingers. She lost her grip entirely and disappeared into the angry waters below.
"Elaine!" Guybrush rushed to the railing; Chariset a step behind him with another length of rope in her hands. Elaine's head, hair slicked to her scalp with the water, appeared in the waves. She trod water, looking relatively calm, while Chariset tied a loop in the other end of her rope. Elaine caught it when it was thrown to her, settled the loop around herself, just under her arms, and let Guybrush and his sister pull her in through the waves. She held the rope in one hand and pushed hair off her face with the other as they brought her up towards the side of the ship.
And then the unexpected happened--the sea opened her mouth and swallowed Elaine.
An icy-blue-green whirlpool opened between the two ships--Guybrush called a warning, Elaine turned and saw the thing-and then she vanished. The rope-end disappeared into the yawning maw of the thing--Guybrush lost his grip on the rope in shock and Chariset was nearly dragged into the railing as she braced both feet and fought with all her weight to hold on. The swirling mouth of the whirlpool refused to give up the tug-of-war as her feet skidded on the wet deck, covered in the rain that was falling all around. It was black as night and still the horrible thing could be seen, glowing with some evil, icy power.
Beside her she heard her brother cry out "Elaine!!"
"Guybrush...help!" was all she could manage with the toes of her boots braced against the rail now, the rope wrapped around both her hands, her long ponytail beating against her back with the wind, straining with all her might to hold on. He came--somehow he got between her and the railing, seized the rope, together they moved backward one step, two, fighting the awful fury of that hungry mouth. She gritted her teeth and pulled even harder.
Then came a slow tearing sound--as if in slow motion, Chariset looked down and saw the rope between herself and her brother slowly coming apart. In horrified fascination she watched the fibers stretch thin and snap, working towards the center, even as she freed a hand to grab the other end-
-the rope snapped. Time resumed its normal pace as she fought against the recoil of the rope, staggered back, struggled to move forward, saw Guybrush pulled sharply into the rail, bent over it, slip over. She reached out and caught hold of one shoe, feeling herself doubled over the wooden rail as she fought to hold on in the face of the wind and the rain.
The shoe, not used to being the object of a tug-of-war, gave under the pressure. Chariset fell over backwards, tumbled head over heels across the deck, and slammed into a pile of boxes on the other side. She dimly heard the thin cry as her brother was pulled down into the whirlpool and struggled to her feet--so high with adrenaline that she didn't even feel the bruises from the boxes yet--ran across the slippery deck to the rail.
The whirlpool closed its mouth at last--it and the storm faded away at the same time--the gray waters subsided into calm stillness over the site where her brother and sister-in-law had been sucked down. But just before the foam had entirely vanished, a patch of ice appeared where the center of the maw had been--it spread out quickly, forming a rough circle to mark the location. Then it cracked and began melting almost immediately in the warm Caribbean sun.
Chariset, hands on the rail, sank to her knees. Her face felt cold and clammy and she knew she must have looked pale as death, but her system had been under so much shock that she no longer cared. Sightlessly she stared at the rail, breathing shallowly, her mind trying to make sense out of the horror she had just seen. Guybrush was just in the cabin, she thought. Elaine's on board already. They're fine. They're..
"Miss Threepwood?" The Scottish brogue came from the largest of the three men next to her-she looked up and saw her brother's crew who had come up without her noticing. He looked sad-and apologetic. "I hate ta be botherin' ya, but thar's somethin' here ye should see."
He gave her a hand up--she leaned on him for a second before turning to look out in the waters where he pointed. The circle of ice had melted away, but a shiny, rectangular block of ice bobbed in the waters still--she gave an involuntary cry when she saw that it contained her brother's face. The crew got ropes around it and hoisted it up onto the deck--she closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, then looked into it.
Inside lay her brother, eyes closed, arms folded over his chest. Like a corpse. In a coffin somewhere. The ice was clear as crystal--she could see in remorseless detail every little thing that would mark him as Guybrush Threepwood. He even still wore his simple wedding band. But his skin was a pale blue and his eyelids and fingertips were purplish. Even his hair had a bluish tint. She laid her hand on the ice--and drew it away instantly-it was too cold to touch. It was also defying the hot sun, remaining unmelted despite the tropical heat. Not even perspiration rose on it.
"Get a chisel," she heard herself said in a rough voice. The thinnest of the pirate three brought a mallet and a chisel and struck the block with a mighty blow. Not a crack appeared. There wasn't even a dent in the ice where the chisel had rested. The red-bearded giant tried as well, without success. The ice resisted the chisel better than any stone she had ever seen.
"It's no use" said Chariset at last. "LeChuck's killed him." She had no idea why she'd said that, but the moment she did, she knew it was true. The trio looked at her in surprise as she said it again "LeChuck's killed him."
She shivered-she'd never thought she'd have to confront the undead herself-but in that moment she vowed she'd have her revenge for her brother and her sister in law. And then she slowly became aware of little things--her nose itched, her entire left side ached, and her right hand was clenched so tightly it hurt. She looked down--her brother's shoe was still clutched tightly in her hand. That set her off--she curled up around the thing and sobbed.
A hand laid itself awkwardly on her shoulder--she looked up at Haggis again. "Don't cry, lass" he offered hesitantly. "There's someone on Plunder Island who might be able to help ye." She looked at her brother's frozen form without answering--he followed her gaze. "I know it looks bad, but if anyone can help, she can."
"Can you--" she swallowed. "Can you keep him someplace safe until I come back?"
"Aye,
lass. That we can. Come back with us to Plunder Island."