Title: Rags and Riches
Author: Rosie Rosen
Summary: Pintel and Ragetti are awaiting their death in the dungeons of Port Royal. Something, or someone, will save both of them. But how easy is it for a pirate to adjust to being a noble?
Rating: PG... For now.
Disclaimer: Disney owns Pirates of the Caribbean and all its affiliates. I would steal Ragetti and keep him in my pants, but I'm scared of Disney's lawyers.
** * **
The jail cells of Port Royal were packed tight enough to give anyone claustrophobia. Curled tightly in damp corners, leaning against slimy, wet walls, hands reaching greedily, groping at nothing from behind the iron bars, ravenous pirates were caged in the last place they would ever call home. Two of them fought over an inedible portion of bread while another, crazed with a hunger for freedom, tried to claw his way out with his bare, broken hands. It stank of unwashed bodies, waste, and desperation.
"This is jus' disgustin'," scowled one of the prisoners, throwing his water ration against the wall. The man next to him whimpered and scurried to the spilled water, trying to scoop it up with his hands and lick it from his fingers. Crouching, vulnerable, he looked up, glaring at his cell companion with one eye.
"Ye didn' hafta' do that, Pintel!" The one-eyed man whimpered again, trying to force a last drop of water out of the empty tin cup. Pintel rolled his eyes exasperatedly.
"Shut up and quit bein' foolish. Honest, if ye were any stupider…" He trailed off as a red-coated guard marched down the stairs into the rotting jail. The pirates went silent, pressing at the bars, watching the guard with intense stares. The one-eyed buccaneer dropped the cup and it rolled away noisily. The guard gave a disgusting sneer in the direction of the prisoners and turned away to nail a parchment to the wall. Those who could read studied it eagerly through the iron bars. It could mean freedom… or death.
It was the latter. Execution dates for each of the pirate prisoners. Pintel squinted his beady eyes, trying to find his name, and the illiterate Ragetti's. He grunted expressionlessly. Ragetti looked at him hopefully.
"We ain't gonna' be sent to the gallows, righ', Pintel?" He took a look at the paper, trying to recognize his name within the meaningless letters. Pintel glowered at his partner in crime, and Ragetti shut his mouth. He kept it shut for a full two minutes, until he couldn't keep his whine in any longer. "Jus' tell me when we're gonna' die!"
"Don' know," Pintel growled, "We ain't on there." Ragetti tilted his head, confused.
"Ye mean we ain't gonna' be hanged, Pintel?" Ragetti brightened, then focused his attention on rubbing his wooden eye. Pintel smacked his hand away and Ragetti winced. "It itches," Ragetti mumbled.
"It means that we ain't on the list, you fool." Pintel rolled his eyes. "Maybe they're gonna' leave us here until we die." Ragetti's eyebrows went up in alarm. "I said maybe! We could be set free. Who knows?" Pintel put a comforting hand on Ragetti's shoulder. "We'll get outta' here somehow, Ragetti. I promise it."
** * **
The sun rose the next morning, bringing naught but a feeble light through the barred windows. Warmth was out of the question – the dark, dank cold of the cells was severe even at high noon. The atmosphere was ominous, with men who were tough as nails sniveling in the corner like little babies. To die fighting was one thing. To die alone, hung by the neck until dead, with no chance of escape…
What little fortitude the pirates had left had been stabbed and left for dead on the Dauntless. Living, as it could barely be called, the way they did, without being able to die was a tempting prospect for a pirate. With all the raping, pillaging, and plundering, it would, obviously, be impossible for them to be caught and killed, thus giving them all the freedom in the world to do what they wanted. The treasure would pile high and each man, with his lust for blood, would revel in his ability to kill without punishment.
No, instead, the life of the undead was dreadful. Nothing satisfied the cursed. The riches the men gained were useless if what was bought with them could not be consumed nor enjoyed. The blood was pretty, red and glistening on the victims' dead bodies, but the more blood spilt, the more blood wanted. Women were pretty, seductively beckoning the pirates to them with porcelain skin and ruby lips, but what use were women when the pleasure wasn't pleasurable?
But the worst of it, the part no pirate would admit, was the pain. A skeleton shouldn't be able to feel the blade running him through, nor the bullet in his skull. They felt it. Ten times more than any true man, this motley crew felt pain. They swallowed it, for the benefits of being walking dead surely overrode a jab in the stomach. For a while, anyhow. After some time dying time and again without actually dying became tedious. The consequences started to stand out in their minds. No food, no drink, no contentment in anything they did. It became a half-life, a life of all the time in the world with no rest.
Real death approached the silent men in the cell. It was creeping up on them. One shook violently, knowing his hanging was to be carried out today. The other man listed to die took a different approach. He tried to seem strong; ready to fight the guards, to make his death not one he gave in to, but one he struggled against.
The door, hidden at the top of a staircase, was flung open. More light spilled into the shadows. Three men, clearly from the Royal Navy, were silhouetted against the light.
"Michael Twigg and Thomas Nipperkin," barked one, unlocking a door. The other two marched into the cell regally, grabbing Twigg and Nipperkin. Twigg left as they wanted him to, calm and quiet. Nipperkin fought like a cat. He hissed and swung his arms around, clawing at the air, at the guard, at anything he could. He was mad the way he struggled to be free. It was in vain. The guard struck him a cruel blow to the head and Nipperkin slumped to the floor. The other pirates watched emotionlessly as he was dragged up the stairs and out the door, which swung shut with a deafening thud, locking them in again, shutting out more light.
Ragetti wanted to cry. He didn't want to be dragged outside and, to the amusement of the citizens of Port Royal, hung. He could never escape his fate. He hated himself for becoming a pirate. He bit his tongue until it bled to keep the tears from coming out. His eyes burned, but he held back. Pintel wordlessly patted Ragetti, trying to reassure him. He knew, as he always did, the way his friend felt, without a sound passing between them. Ragetti gulped and tried to swallow his fears. It would be alright. Everything would be okay. Soon.
** * **
Days passed and the pirates disappeared one by one from the jail cells. Soon, only the stout Pintel and lanky Ragetti remained, doomed, it seemed, to be in the moldy chamber forever. It had been a week since the last pirate was taken to the noose, and, still, nothing told the two what their fate would be.
"Pintel?"
"What?!" Pintel snarled, for the twentieth time that day. Ragetti winced.
"Well, I was just wonderin', y'know, since we're gonna' die in here…"
"We ain't gonna' die in here," Pintel interrupted sharply. Ragetti nodded quickly, trying to agree with Pintel to make him happy.
"I'm just sayin', if we do, ye won't f'get about me? If ye go to Heaven an' I'm not there." Pintel rolled his eyes, visibly resisting the urge to say anything to that. Ragetti continued, "Yer me best friend in the world, Pintel, y'know that? An' I think that if we don't die in here, we should always stay together, y'know?" Pintel raised an eyebrow.
"Ye'h, I guess so." His voice sounded too reluctant for Ragetti's liking. He grabbed the shorter man's shoulders.
"Promise me, Pintel! We'll always be frien's forever, righ'? Ye'll stay wif' me always." Ragetti's tone went higher; he was scared. He had never been alone. As long as he could remember, Pintel had been there at his side. This promise had been made before, but never when either of them teetered so close to the edge of death. Pintel took Ragetti's hands off his shoulders.
"Yes, I promise, Ragetti! Settle, mate!" Pintel slumped against the wall and Ragetti calmed down.
"Thank ye, Pintel."
"Quiet, fool."
** * **
Author's Note:
W00t, that took me a long time to finish.
Yes, Nipperkin is a real pirate on Barbossa's ship [check imdb.com if you don't believe me].
I promise angst in the next chapter. Lots.
That's all. ^_^