I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, as I am obviously NOT Disney. Ido own the poem contained in the text, entitled The Ballad of the Envy. I worked very hard on it…please don't steal!
R&R, also, but please make them at least remotely intelligent. No "Wow, UR cool!" or "UR stewpid, LOL."
Somewhere in the depths of Tortuga…
Light spilled out onto the cobblestones as a cloaked man swung open the door of the inn. A raucous crowd parted infinitesimally to let the newcomer through; drops of ale glistened in the air before plunging to Earth like so many golden raindrops. The visitor brushed some of those droplets from his dark cloak and shoved his way through to one of the few unoccupied chairs; this was, after all, Tortuga, where every day was a holiday.
The stranger declined to order a drink, drawing angry glances from the drunk bartender. His anger was quickly forgotten as the man extracted tattered bag from his cloak. It clinked happily as it fell to the table, telling of a great many coins that it must contain. "I'll buy next round," he said, tossing the bag to the bartender, who gave a toothless grin.
"Next round on the gentlemen in the corner!" he called. The bar erupted into yells of joy. This was the second most popular drinking establishment in all of the island; this meant that half of Tortuga's residents were there. No man had bought a full round almost…well, never.
This fact drew the attention of the tavern's resident bard. He approached the man who had procured enough gold to buy drinks for almost ten-score people, his short musician traipsing along behind him. The pair was quite a sight; the tall, lanky bard with handsome features and warm smile and the squat, ill-favored lute guitarist with bulging muscles and gruff expression. The cloaked man's mouth twitched into a smile; it reminded him of a pair from his past…a wily sea captain and his harsh first mate…but that was long gone now. That captain would be long dead, deserted on one of the Caribbean's many uncharted cays. And the first mate…well, he was as good as dead as well.
The bard and his musician bowed low to the cloaked man, raising their hands for silence. To the bearded stranger's surprise, the crowd quickly obliged; apparently this bard was a favorite for evening entertainment. He cleared his throat dramatically. "I am Timothy the Bard, and this is my man, Gerard. Gerard and I, as many of you know, have sold our souls to the Devil himself to acquire our skills." He paused, smiling. The crowd erupted into peals of drunken laughter; this was a well-known joke. The stranger's face tightened, the smile gone. If the bard noticed, he gave no sign, plunging into the night's repartee. He began with jokes and the standard bawdy ale ditties, which the crowd joined in enthusiastically. The songs grew progressively longer as the evening wore on; finally, the bard bowed, calling once more for silence.
"Our excellent benefactor, this lovely man here," he gestured to the stranger to a roar from the audience, "deserves a song, I think. What about you?" The spectators raised their glasses to the bearded man and cheered. He returned their ebullience with slight smile and wave. "I agree," Timothy replied, clearing his throat once more. He whispered something to his guitarist, who nodded his thick neck. "The Ballad of the Envy," the ugly man said, cracking his knuckles. His chubby fingers stroked the guitar gently; the music couldn't have been more enchanting if the man had been Orpheus himself. The enter inn was holding its collective breath, waiting for the songster to begin.
The young man's face darkened slightly; this tale he would spin was one of danger and fear. He parted his angelic lips in song. The words echoed around the otherwise silent room, ringing like the voices of magic.
Her escort, the mighty Valiant Someone cheered, but he was quickly stifled by his fellows. A sense of worry for the two fictitious ships radiated from the gathered people as the bard continued, his eyes clear and cold.
The Esquire, she set to sail
The Union Jack unfurled
Her bonny mission, it was sure
To sail around the world
Plowed on through waters dark
For pirate waters through they sailed
And their maps without a mark
Pirates, men with blackened souls Black-hearted fiends haunt the waters Fourteen weeks they were a-seal As they settled down to bed Buccaneers with greed abound Her name was Black Bess Turtledove A scar ran down her pretty face The Envy slipped through waters black A watchman 'board the Valiant A yell went up from the English ships Black Bess barred her teeth and grinned The Envy pulled up alongside They leapt aboard, their battle cries O firing pistol! O clashing steel! Black Bess cornered Captain Wilkes But no sound came, no flash of light They stood a'gaping at Black Bess She turned in awe to face the one The cabin boy, eyes wide in shock, They carried her to Envy's deck The Valiant's crew stood upon their ship The Envy sailed away that day Sometimes, when the moon is full So heed my words, young sailor men Bow your heads, good sailors, pray
And rusty steel to match
Brave throats is what they yearn to slit
And your fortunes for to snatch
Unsailed by good sailors' hands
Wait and watch to prey upon
The ones whose hearts remain on land
They came upon a bay
They lowered anchor, gathered sail
A few nights for to stay
Their thoughts upon their trove
The terrifying Skull 'N Cross
Came a-sailing to the cove
Their Captain at the wheel
Her heart was of the blackest coal
Her blade of Spanish steel
Her hair as dark as pitch
Synonymous with many names
Like "devil," "hag," and "witch"
From battle fought and won
Her ship, the Envy's darkened sails
To turn the heart of anyone
A dreaded sight to see
The moon a silent witness
Glowing down upon the sea
Gazing out upon the bay
He saw the sails of that black ship
And fainted dead away.
"Pirates! Thieves!" their cry
They loaded cannons, ran out oars
These British would not fly
Her cutlass close at hand
"Ready cannons!" was her cry
To frighten any man
The Valiant's gleaming hull
Pirates and good men would die
Beneath the Bones and Skull
Echoed 'cross the bay
Nary any man would live
To fight another day
Resounded in the night
The battle long continued
Into the early light
His black against the mast
Her lip she curled, and leveled gun
He flinched against the blast
He reached down for his sword
Opened his eyes, but there was no noise
From the vicious pirate hoards
Her eyes wide in surprise
A cutlass stuck clean through her back
As the sun began to rise
Who'd brought her to her knees
And ended her tyrannic rule
Across the Seven Seas
Watched as the pirate fell
For from his dishpan hands had come
The blade with life dispell'd
They laid her 'neath the mast
And wrapped her in the pirate's flag
And then she breathed her last
Lowering their eyes
The battle, it was won, and yet
Their spirits wouldn't rise
Never to return,
Haunting no more the waters
That so long had held its stern
You sail to that 'cursed bay
The Spirit of the Envy comes
On your soul to prey
Who sail through waters dark
Remember Black Bess Turtledove
And watch as you embark
That you don't sail to that lagoon
For the Envy's ghost still sails the deep
Beneath the rising moon.
Timothy and the musician bowed their heads, silent. Whoops of joy erupted from the throng, all of them moving towards the pair with glasses of the finest ale outstretched. The two took them gladly, drinking deeply. The bard bowed to the dark man who sat near them, his face shrouded in darkness. "We are thankful for your praise!" he called playing the audience expertly. "But what of you, friend?"
The stranger stood, his chair scraping along the stone floor. The multitudes recoiled slightly, their drunken eyes glazed with fear. In his hand, the man carried a silver pistol. He raised it towards Timothy, his eyes blazing with demonic fury.
But the stumpy guitarist was quicker. He pulled a thin stiletto from his boot and tossed it skillfully into the stranger's heart.
The man grunted slightly as knife sank deep into his chest. The horde of people squealed and headed for the exit; a bar brawl was one thing, but a knife fight was something totally out of their league.
To the musical pair's amazement, the man reached up and pulled the dagger from his chest in a smooth motion, examining the blood-stained weapon in the dim light. His dark eyes still trained on the weapon, he raised his pistol once more and fired.
The musician crumpled to the ground, very dead.
Timothy stared down at the unattractive guitarist and blanched. He had lost many partners, but never quite like that. He raised his shaking gaze up to the man who had so coolly murdered the player when he should have already taken the path to Hell. "Who…what the hell are you?'
The stranger threw the knife downward, where it buried itself deep into the wooden table. He replaced his gun in its proper holster, eyes never leaving the young singer. Suddenly, his knee stuck up like lightning, catching the terrified lad firmly in the groin. The man crumpled to the ground in agony.
The huge bearded man leaned over him.
"It is not wise to speak of death and demons, lad, as you know little of neither," the man said coldly, standing. "Take it from someone who knows."
He adjusted his wide black hat and retied his jacket, stepping over the two comrades. He flicked a golden coin to the ground; it landed directly in front of the bard's pained eyes.
"That's complements of the Captain of the Black Pearl... Should be enough to buy you another ugly midget bodyguard," the Captain said gruffly, making his way to the door. Without another word, the Captain of the Damned stepped out into the moonlight.
Bow your heads, good sailors, pray
That you don't sail to that lagoon
For the Envy's ghost still sails the deep
Beneath the rising moon.
