Ambrosia of the Sea: The Red Horizon

Chapter Four

"Cap'n, we've a visitor."

Barbossa squinted through the fog. Beyond the wreckage loomed an impressive galleon, flying his majesty's colors. The captain scoffed at the flag, ordering his crew to make haste. He watched carefully, taking note of how the Brits cared more for the wreck than for the ship that caused it.

Scanning the rail, he noticed a small girl at the bow, her eyes wide. She had seen the Pearl, yet Barbossa wasn't alarmed. He studied her as close as the fog and distance would let him. There was something about the young lass, something strong and curious. She held an object in her hand, and Barbossa felt his stomach wrench. The captain cursed himself for turning away. Somehow, though, he knew he'd see that girl again. He let the coin slip away once more, remembering instead that he had reclaimed another treasure.

Inside his cabin, Elinor searched frantically for something to clothe herself in. Barbossa entered just as she wrapped a sheet around her waist, already having thrown on her shirt.

"Did you find it?" she spurted between breaths. Crossing her arms over her thin shirt, she fixed her gaze on the captain.

Barbossa shook his head and smiled to himself. Elinor stood near the window as he pulled another bottle of rum from the cabinet. He set it on the table, then disappeared under the bed. Elinor watched with curiosity as he wriggled out a small chest.

"Sit," he commanded as he brought the box over. North obeyed, not being able to take her eyes off the captain. He didn't seem phased one bit over the coin. He almost looked…amused.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," he said as he opened the trunk. Elinor peeked over the lid, fixing her eyes upon a treasure trove of brilliant green.

"Lord Almighty." She laughed to herself, plucking out an apple. It gleamed fresh in the dim light of the cabin, as the fruit of the first sin must have. She hadn't tasted the chartreuse fruit since the first time they had met. Elinor frowned at the memory while Barbossa sat and lifted his tired feet onto the table. He hadn't touched the bushel. Elinor inquired as to why.

"Lost the taste for them," he answered. The look on his face told North otherwise. She moved the trunk to the opposite side of the table. Barbossa watched her with longing as she sat on the table in front of him and took a large bite out of the apple. He moved to lick the juice from her lips, but thought otherwise and sat back in his chair.

"You always were a temptress," he said as he reached for the rum. North held out the apple for him to take. He gazed at it for a moment, before swallowing a swig of alcohol. Elinor watched him inquiringly, wondering why he refused something he once could not resist? Barbossa handed her the rum, which she drank eagerly, the apple still luminous in her hand.

"So what now?" she asked as she got up and made her way to the window. Night was falling, though the brilliant colors of a Caribbean sunset were hard to see passed the fog. Elinor took another bite of the apple, savoring the flavor. Had it really been so long?

Barbossa ignored her question, surveying her instead. She looked healthy, and cleaner than the first time they had met. She held herself well, hardened by the past years' work. Her brown eyes were lit with the same fire from so many years ago. And she stood, once again, by his window, with his two most favorite things in the world in her hands. It was a temptation he was hard pressed to give in to.

"Well?" she asked, turning to meet his gaze. It was then that Elinor noticed the yellow of his eyes. Everything about him looked as if it were decaying—his face, his clothes, his ship. Yet Elinor could sense plenty of fight still left in him. She felt herself being drawn to his presence. For years he was always in the back of her mind. In it, she had hated him. He was more evil than the devil himself. And yet her heart sympathized with him—over what, she had no idea. Perhaps it was merely curiosity, rather than sympathy. She wanted to know how a man so cruel could even sleep at night.

Barbossa cleared his throat as he stood. Elinor instinctively stepped back as he neared her. The captain refused to notice, grabbing the alcohol out of her hands. A deep hole burned through his heart every time he swallowed. He could not recall the taste of any liquid, nor remember the sense of being quenched. He only did it so his muscles would not forget, so they would be ready when the curse was lifted.

Elinor watched him closely, taking note of his pain. She did not flinch when he wrapped one arm around her and spoke.

"Now, we sail."

Elinor tightened the sheet around her waist as he pressed her close. She could smell the rum on his breath, mixed with spice and death. The hairs on her neck bristled at his touch, and a chill ran along her spine when he looked at her. Barbossa longed to be closer to her, to feel her skin and smell her hair, to taste her lips and feel alive once more. He leaned into her, reaching for her lips with his own.

"No," she said forcefully, pushing him back. Before even thinking it through, North bit the apple. After throwing the fruit onto the bed, she poured rum into her mouth and grabbed at Barbossa's jacket.

A bullet to the heart is certainly more deadly than a kiss.

Elinor needed her charm to stay alive aboard the Pearl—long enough to get off of the wretched ship.

Barbossa kissed her hard, trying with all his strength to relish even one ounce of her body. He put his hands all over her, desperately trying to feel something, anything. Elinor became alarmed at his efforts, sensing something was wrong when he started clawing at her.

"That's quite enough," she stated, bringing the bottle down on his head.

Glass and rum exploded over Barbossa's skull, sending him backwards but not to the ground. Elinor made for the door, but tripped over the sheet she wore. As she fell, she felt a hard kick in the back.

She fell fast through a dark tunnel, filled with rotten apple cores and the stench of dead corpses. A hand reached for her. She tried to tumble toward it, but to no avail. The hand belonged to young William Turner, who instead grabbed a glittering coin that fell with her. He placed it around his neck, a smile of revenge carved into his face.

If Elinor had had a pistol, she would have shot him.

As he disappeared, she landed into the arms of another man. It was Bootstrap. He held her close, his eyes still as warm as the day they met. She smiled at him, taking comfort in his embrace. Suddenly, he was ripped out from under her, and she fell once again. As she descended, she could see the canon he was strapped to falling far below her, dragging old Bootstrap with it.

Elinor thought she would fall forever, straight to the center of the earth and back out. Her mind raced with images of her life, spread before her as pages from a book. Her mother appeared on the edge of a bed, praying silently for her lost daughter. A shadowy figure danced in a fog, just beyond her mind's reach. And her father…

She opened her eyes to see that she was no longer falling. Elinor stood at the bow of the Three Fates, the warm breeze flowing through her hair. The sun was rising through a red sky. Elinor frowned at this sailor's warning.

Suddenly a man appeared by her side.

"Papa!" she shouted, embracing her father. When he didn't hug her back, Elinor let go, looking intently at his face. His eyes were filled with worry. His clothes were askew; there was blood on his shirt. The lines of defeat dug deep into his face.

"I don't understand," whispered Elinor as she checked him over for wounds. Abruptly she was pushed away. Her father turned to face two other men who had appeared. One wore a red scarf around his dreads, filled with beads and trinkets. His dark eyes where lined with kohl. He looked helplessly at Elinor.

The other man aimed a pistol right at her father's heart. He was taller, older. Elinor's eyes widened as she recognized Barbossa. Her scream was silenced by the sound of his shot. She watched her father fall, his eyes pleading. Kneeling beside him, Elinor cried angry tears over his lifeless body. An evil laugh pierced her ears. As she looked up, she saw Barbossa smiling. She jumped from the deck and ran toward him, ready to kill him with her bare hands. But before she could reach him, he vanished.

And she fell.