SUMMARY: So, who could love someone like Barbossa? And is Barbossa even capable of loving? This story shows a new facet of his personality, unseen to Jack and gives a a somewhat shaky explanation of how a man could be so evil. After all, he's not all bad.
Madeleine Feverte, Barbossa's Creole mistress discovers a new (uncursed) treasure of famed (imagined) pirate Thomas Cooke and works her way into piracy for years to finish what Barbossa left unfinished. Unfortunately, the map is on the Isle de Muerta and the only one who knows the Isle's location is a pirate Captain (guess who) who is about to be executed. Madeleine works to break Jack Sparrow out--lots of complex plot twists and witty, albeit confusing, dialogue. Good luck.
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My dearest Madeleine,
I don't know how long we've been at sea. The sunrises and sunsets have blurred into one another. Rushes of reds and blues that fade into one another. Marks of time kept by men for centuries. I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, the brush flesh doesn't satisfy. The only thing that keeps me going is the thought that one day I may be able to see you again. The empty sky is a constant mockery of my love for you. The dark wild night, your rush of hair. I loved that hair, thick and rough, smelling of your perfume. There are times when I think that I can smell it and for a moment, I expect to see you. Your dark skin and exotic eyes, your body. Oh your body, Michelangelo could not have carved anything more perfect than you.
But when I turn, I see nothing. Just the waves, the caps, the sails and grotesque faces of the crew. I've been around masculine company for so long that one could almost turn to the less than savory company of the women that haunt these ports. But I can't, I refuse, nothing can pacify this starvation except for you. I miss you. Your scent, your taste, your arms wrapping around me and brushing my hair in that manner that you always do. I would give anything to see you again. And when we finish here, I will go back to you and you shall have everything that you wished for. Oh Madeliene, you shall have all that and more. In our constant returns to the Isle, I have discovered a map to the treasure of Thomas Cooke, a treasure of dreams. Spanish, French, English golds and silvers. Ma cheri, when this is done, I will come back to you and you shall live your life in a luxury that you can only wish for.
There are times when I fear that we may not succeed, that we shall live forever like this. Starving to death without the hope and salvation of death to save us. I fear that we shall remain forever this way and I that I shall never see you again. If that happens then I shall be forced to tell you that I love you now, in this letter. I love you, more than life itself, more than the dream of death that haunts my mind. I would give the world to please you and I will. I swear it, ma cheri. I will give you the world.
In mind, body and spirit,
Captain David Barbossa
Madeleine Feverte, Barbossa's Creole mistress discovers a new (uncursed) treasure of famed (imagined) pirate Thomas Cooke and works her way into piracy for years to finish what Barbossa left unfinished. Unfortunately, the map is on the Isle de Muerta and the only one who knows the Isle's location is a pirate Captain (guess who) who is about to be executed. Madeleine works to break Jack Sparrow out--lots of complex plot twists and witty, albeit confusing, dialogue. Good luck.
~~~
My dearest Madeleine,
I don't know how long we've been at sea. The sunrises and sunsets have blurred into one another. Rushes of reds and blues that fade into one another. Marks of time kept by men for centuries. I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, the brush flesh doesn't satisfy. The only thing that keeps me going is the thought that one day I may be able to see you again. The empty sky is a constant mockery of my love for you. The dark wild night, your rush of hair. I loved that hair, thick and rough, smelling of your perfume. There are times when I think that I can smell it and for a moment, I expect to see you. Your dark skin and exotic eyes, your body. Oh your body, Michelangelo could not have carved anything more perfect than you.
But when I turn, I see nothing. Just the waves, the caps, the sails and grotesque faces of the crew. I've been around masculine company for so long that one could almost turn to the less than savory company of the women that haunt these ports. But I can't, I refuse, nothing can pacify this starvation except for you. I miss you. Your scent, your taste, your arms wrapping around me and brushing my hair in that manner that you always do. I would give anything to see you again. And when we finish here, I will go back to you and you shall have everything that you wished for. Oh Madeliene, you shall have all that and more. In our constant returns to the Isle, I have discovered a map to the treasure of Thomas Cooke, a treasure of dreams. Spanish, French, English golds and silvers. Ma cheri, when this is done, I will come back to you and you shall live your life in a luxury that you can only wish for.
There are times when I fear that we may not succeed, that we shall live forever like this. Starving to death without the hope and salvation of death to save us. I fear that we shall remain forever this way and I that I shall never see you again. If that happens then I shall be forced to tell you that I love you now, in this letter. I love you, more than life itself, more than the dream of death that haunts my mind. I would give the world to please you and I will. I swear it, ma cheri. I will give you the world.
In mind, body and spirit,
Captain David Barbossa