Coolest thing ever. I get to give a speech on shipping! How easy is that! Even better, my own glossary is cited as a legitimate source! Fun, fun, fun.
(Of course, in revisited land, that was over two years ago. I actually did the report on piracy. It was 13 minutes long. Just doing my best to prove that I am a pirate, or at least know about pirates. Nothing worse than a person who claims to be something but doesn't know anything about what they're claiming to be *cough* Ninjas! *cough*
Chapter III –Chauvinism on the Sea
Heather, not very good at landing, ended up sitting very comfortably on Will Turner's lap. However, Will was still in the depths of depression. He was not extremely surprised, too far lost in his stupor he was. Heather quickly moved off his lap before being attacked by her former cohorts.
"Everybody, calm down or I'll turn ye into bloody turnips," Bootstrap exclaimed. They all sat down quickly, lest they invoke Bootstrap's wrath. Will had not moved from his spot on the couch, still staring listlessly into space. He leaned on one hand, his face twisting slightly from the pressure, a corner of his mouth open.
Heather, not knowing the problem but obviously understanding that something was definitely wrong, looked in question around the room. She noticed a limp Commodore and wondered what his problem was. It had only been a few moments since Kristin and Sean had come crashing into the Turner's residence.
There was a crash from the foyer. Scarlette rose to see what the sound had been and returned carrying a green bottle. Inside was a slip of paper. With her thin fingers, she extracted the paper and unrolled it. "Bastards tossed it through what was left of the window. I guess they just couldn't be happy with the huge hole in the glass! They had to break the rest."
She read the lines quickly, perusing the note, her face slowly falling from curiosity to trepidation. She looked up and locked eyes with Topher.
"It's Robin," she told him bluntly. "Sit down, please."
"What does she say?" he asked, paling. He was already paper white, so paling for him was quite the feat. He slumped into a chair near the unconscious Commodore.
"Not she," Scarlette continued. "It's another ransom note. She's been taken. She is alive, but they send more threats."
"What?" Topher exclaimed, shooting to his feet again and pulling out his pistol and rapier simultaneously. He looked quite the combatant as he looked in furious confusion around the crowded room.
"Sit down!" Scarlette commanded again. "I'll read the note and then we can decide what to do."
She gazed at him until he sheathed and holstered his goods, retook his seat and crossed his arms in rage. She licked her lips and began to read.
"To the man who married this crazy girl;
Another woman, another ransom. Christian Topher,
your wife Robin is now among my prisoners,
though I can't say that it was particularly easy
acquiring her. I'll tell you the same thing I told
Mr. Turner. I want the Langue de Serpente and
until you agree to find my treasure, my next steps
at attaining your answer might be a bit more … bold.
Leave an answer with the barmaid at the Green Dragon
pub by midnight. Do not try to follow anyone leaving
this pub with or without a note. It will not lead you to me.
Oh, and, to both William and yourself. I suggest
you recruit the aid of a certain captain. You're going to
need it in the long run. Persuasion shouldn't be a problem.
Yours truly,
Ha! I bet you though I was going to sign my name, eh?
Nope. Sorry boys. You'll find out soon enough who I am.
Farewell."
"I'm gonna kill him," Topher growled, his hands straining with the effort of not drawing his weapons.
"Is he talking about Jack?" Scarlette wondered. "A certain captain leads me to think no one else. I hope he's not thinking of hurting Jack to get what he wants."
"I wouldn't be worryin' 'bout Jack, Missy," Bootstrap told her, giving her eye contact. Scarlette looked confused for a moment, but her face suddenly flattened out as she realized what he meant.
"You think I'm the next target?" she asked him.
"Well, he wants Will to look, he takes Elizabeth," he began. "He wants Chris over here on the job, well Robin's gone. And now he's let on that he needs Captain Jack Sparrow to find him his big treasure and everyone on the earth knows how reluctant Jack can be, unless presented with a deal he absolutely can't refuse."
"Yes, but does this guy know who he's dealing with?" Heather piped up, always quick to the get. "Scarlette isn't exactly an easy target. She's slightly easier than Jack just based on pure size, but still … anyone who knows anything about her would stay away."
"A point worth noting," Bootstrap nodded. "But I still think she's next on his happy hit parade. Notice he said 'enlist the aid of a certain captain, persuasion shouldn't be a problem.' What do you think that means?"
"Don't worry about me," she told him, stubborn as usual. "Just protect my children and I'll find a way to get this guy out in the open. I'll deliver our note tonight."
"Then maybe you should write it," Claudia suggested.
"No," Tony interjected. "I've got a better idea. I deliver the note and Scarlette infiltrates. That way, she can stay hidden. If she delivers the note, whoever picks it up will have time to study her features, won't they? She can follow them afterwards."
Sean shook his head. "How? He already said not to follow him."
"Maybe because he knows it'll be too easy. Plus, he seems to not think much of the women here. Everyone knows Elizabeth and Robin aren't the most agreeable when kidnapped." Tony was smiling as if he'd scored big on a difficult test.
"Yes," Kristin agreed. "But if those two seem difficult, what will he do with Scarlette? We never heard anything from Elizabeth or Robin. It's almost as if they vanished."
"He'll no doubt get another cabin scene," Heather answered. "She'll get away, or get locked in the cabin and the next person to enter gets their head blown off because she'll have armed herself to the teeth."
Scarlette was silent. She looked at Tony. "I liked your idea. I'll write the letter and follow whoever picks it up. The rest of you will have to take cover positions. Wear dark clothing and don't look suspicious … I'm sorry, ladies, but this may be a job for the boys." She looked at the boys in question, Topher and Will distraught over their dearly beloved … Tony in his red tails … and Sean. Sean who couldn't blend in with a troupe of clowns. "Scratch that. Women in men's clothing. It'll do."
Claudia, who had been laughing the entire exchange, finally caught her breath. "It's highly amusing listening to you in your beautiful dress and wonderful hair talking like Bruce Willis on an action film."
"Who's Bruce Willis?" Bootstrap asked.
"Well, I can't be feminine all the time," Scarlette answered, ignoring Bootstrap's question. "You should know that. By the way, are you married yet? Any of you? I mean, I haven't seen you guys in years."
"Not me," Kristin answered. Chelsea nodded in agreement. Heather smiled. She had a boyfriend. Claudia was dating someone back in Vegas. Scarlette shrugged ambiguously. "Just curious. No offense intended."
"Well, duh," Claudia added. "I didn't think that. The only one who ever takes offense to your blunt comments is Robin." Topher gave a choke on the couch and Will just looked at him.
"I want to come tonight," Will and Topher both spoke up. Will looked at Topher and shrugged. Scarlette sighed.
"Neither of you can come. You'll be recognized. Someone wake Norrington up. I need to ask a favor of him."
"Well, get plannin', Lass," Bootstrap muttered. "'Cause he wants that letter in two hours."
"You guys plan, I'll write," Scarlette told them, smiling dangerously. Everyone moved into a flurry of business. Letters to write, Navy officials to splash, a plan to create … it was busy.
…
[2014, Spittlefield, Jamaica]
Kami waited in the not-too crowded airport after finally locating her luggage. She was looking for T.P., her boss' butler. Finally, she spotted his gaunt form waving from a long line of unoccupied phone booths. He looked like a stick bug with enormous glasses.
She trotted over, her sneakers hitting the floor rhythmically, hoisting her small shoulder bag as her luggage was pulled behind her. T.P., though appearing to be feeble, grabbed her luggage and carried it to the waiting limousine.
"This is snazzy," she commented. The chauffer made no remark towards her. T.P. only nodded politely and the chauffer put the limo into drive. Kami watched the palm trees fly by as the limo headed towards Port Royal.
As they neared the town, she craned her neck, trying to get a view of Fort Charles. It was more a tourist attraction than a military base now that Britain was out of the picture but it interested her nonetheless. As her eyes wandered over the stone battlements, images flashed through her head, one after the other as if she were watching a movie. The clear daylight changed to night. She heard a beautiful voice, singing so sweetly. Screams, flashes of light, gunshots! There was someone running nearby, being chased by an equestrian. Kami was breathing hard as she heard the victim stumble.
"I'm not going anywhere, you bloody cad!"
"Are you absolutely certain, wench?"
"Ma'am, are you all right?"
Kami opened her eyes to find T.P. leaning over her. She was sweating profusely. The limo had stopped in front of a rather large mansion, the driveway paved with cobblestones, a fountain sporting marble cherubs nearby, creating a cascade of sound that seemed deafening to Kami's ears.
"Yeah, fine," she whispered, clenching her fists to her sides. "Just had one of those moments. You know, like when you're about to cast? It must be like, from the plane maybe. Don't worry, old chap. I'm just a bit nauseous." She knew better than to tell them what she had seen. Insanity did not bode well in one's au pair. She swung her feet out of the limo and stood cautiously. Good. She could walk.
"Welcome to the Master's home, Miss. He hopes that you will enjoy the luxuries while you are here. Young Master Justin has been summoned." T.P. led her into a foyer extravagantly decorated with inlaid metals and beautiful tapestries. Kami was busy examining a painted photograph of two women, one of which looked familiar, when there was a shout of glee. She turned to find the young boy, Justin, racing towards her, his arms outstretched.
"You brought her! You brought the Fabby Lady!"
Kami groaned but the kid continued to maul her. Kids and small dogs never seemed to realize that people disliked them.
"Come on, Fabby! Let's go play! Yay! Yay!"
"Someone shoot me."
…
Scarlette sat in the pub, dressed as modestly as possible, and in saying modest, every sense of the word is used. She was wearing her husbands clothing, once again.
If they were indeed after her, it was best that they didn't recognize her as the tail, though the fact that whoever it was might kill her for following did not escape her mind. It would make their lives even easier to have her follow them into their hideaway as opposed to having to kidnap her. She picked a nice corner and pretended to drink her rum as she scanned the crowd. The wide brimmed hat she'd picked hid her face in shadow. Only someone specifically close to her could have spotted her. Except for the book, she looked just like any other citizen.
A few minutes afterwards, Sean entered the building, dressed just as he'd been before, makeup included. He looked around quite nervously and sat at the bar. Any attention that she had drawn to herself vanished as he made his entrance. He ordered something and sat nervously in his orange cocktail dress.
"Um … sir," he addressed the barkeep. "I've got a message for someone. Do you think you could … take it for me?"
"Sure ting, Lad," he growled, wiping his beard and spitting into a glass. "I've been expectin' ya, anyways. Give it over. Here's yer drink." The man looked Sean up and down, smiling. "We don' get much o' yer type down 'ere."
Sean sipped the drink, but couldn't stay for long, wondering exactly what the man had meant by 'his type'. His nerves weren't up to par for this kind of work. He left with everyone's eyes on him.
"That guy … was dressed like a … woman," one of the men commented, his voice decidedly bland, as if he didn't believe what he'd just seen.
"I thought it was a woman," another spoke, looking rather terrified. Scarlette smirked. Sean was worth a terrified stare sometimes.
"Well, bet he don' know I spit in 'is glass," the barkeep announced. Everyone burst into laughter and Scarlette smiled to herself. She turned the page of her book and continued to watch the room.
Not long after Sean's performance, two men entered the pub and marched straight up to the bar, taking seats beside each other. One had the longest dreadlocks Scarlette had ever seen, woven intermittently with beads, mostly yellow and green along with a few reds and blacks. The other, wearing a black vest with blue embroidery seemed to be the superior. They were both dark and gave off an air of hostility to the crowd around them.
The barkeep forced a strained smile and passed over the envelope with her intricate writing pressed into the paper. The dreadlocked one nodded and drained his mug. The other did not drink but put a small silver coin on the sticky surface of the bar.
Scarlette did not wait for them to leave. She went outside and sat on the edge of a well nearby. When the two men exited the bar, she kept a far enough distance.
However, when the smaller man latched onto a lone woman in the street, her objective changed. She broke into a run and hit the smaller man with her shoulder.
"What the hell's goin' down," he muttered as he attempted to pick himself up. The woman was hiding behind her unidentified savior.
"Ha! Dat little man jus' knocked your ass over, Jericho," the other man was laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach for fear of falling over.
"Shut up, Cob," Jericho grunted from the ground. "My pants are too tight. I cannot get up!"
"Let's get out of here," Scarlette whispered to the woman behind her. She nodded quickly and tightened her grip on Scarlette's arm.
They began to run, the woman's dress flapping in their wake.
"No! You can't do dat! Hey!" Cob took off after them as Jericho found the motivation to get off the ground. He knew that if he didn't bring a woman back to the ship that the captain would probably eat him, and Cob.
"Faster!" Scarlette told her. "This way! Hurry!" They turned a corner as Cob shouted something incoherently.
Jericho picked up something from around his neck and blew into it. A long, loud whistle filled the night with a shrill sound.
The woman stopped and looked back at just the right moment for when Scarlette went back to pull her along, two other men jumped directly into the spot they would have occupied. One had waist length, shining black hair and towered over them and the other was pale, with curly brown hair so unruly Scarlette would have called it an afro. The first man had been the one who'd chased Robin and this time, he was more ready for action.
"Shit," Scarlette muttered. She pulled out her sword and grabbed the woman's hand, running towards the two men while swinging.
They got out of her way without too much persistence. There were more of them, however.
"God dammit," Scarlette hissed. "Where the hell are all my people?" The truth of the matter was, everyone sent for lookout and back up had been disabled. The enemy was everywhere.
There weren't many options open anymore. There were men all about, and a few women. Scarlette held her sword in one hand and the other girl's hand in the other.
One of the women, with rippled blond hair gazed over and made a call. "Let over the girl, boy. If you do, maybe we can make some … arrangements." She smiled in what must have been a seductive way and rubbed her hands down her body in a suggestive way.
Scarlette rolled her eyes. 'Well, good job on the disguise. They think you're a man.' "No dice, tart." she whispered under her breath.
"No, Ruby," the black haired man declared. His accent was Indian or Arab, something Eastern. "Let's see how he can fight. Lord knows with that stature he can't afford to be cowardly." He unsheathed a heavy looking blade from a purple scabbard. "We are birates, boy. Be afraid, buny child." For some reason his 'p's sounded like 'b's.
Scarlette sneered. The man came towards her and swung his long hair around, grinning. The blond woman called out. "I take the winner. And, oh baby, I'm not a fighter. Tee hee."
"Slut," Scarlette snapped, keeping her voice low enough to be considered masculine. The woman gasped indignantly.
He darted towards her and Scarlette moved away from the other woman. She ducked under his blade and lashed out with her foot, hitting him in the shin. He was successful in hitting her with the blade but what he cut was not fatal. He merely made some rips in her clothing.
The shirt hung on her, rips at the shoulders. She lost the hat, showing golden hair, braided to her waist. She used the sword to confuse him and stomped on his foot, hitting him across the face with the heel of her hand and driving a fist into his sternum. He hit the ground none too ceremoniously, coughing up whatever he'd consumed last. He cursed readily in his native tongue and a couple of the women went to help him to his feet.
Another man, one who seemed to wiggle in his shoes came up towards her and she turned quickly enough to catch him right. She performed the trick she'd used on Gillette and sent his body careening. He flew over her head and broke a segment of the circle. As he stood up, he spit a handful of teeth onto the ground. Scarlette grabbed the woman and ran, pulling her along ruthlessly.
"What is up with that little man?" Jericho exclaimed. "You all right, Noodler? Sheikh Abu?"
Sheikh Abu laughed. "I will live, thanks to my women, but that little man will not be so habby next time I meet him."
Noodler just bounced up and shook himself. Jericho took that to mean he was fine. "Well, let's go get him!"
"That is no man," Ruby commented. "That is a woman. We should take them both back to the ship."
"I don't know 'bout dat," Cob answered. "Even if it be a girl, she not be one of dem ladies we need fer blood."
"Jus the same," Ruby grinned. "She'll be taken as well, if you boys can manage it that is."
"What're you saying, eh?" the afro guy asked acidly.
"Nothing, Mullins," she smiled sweetly. "Only that as of yet, you have failed to capture that woman and now you have failed to capture two women, not to mention the third hostage we still haven't caught or even seen."
Mullins snorted at her and clapped his hands. "Hey! Stop staring and get after them!" The few men who'd stayed to see what would happen jumped nervously and ran after their compatriots. Mullins turned and promptly went to help before he lost his temper and strangled the bitch.
…
"Okay, all right, slow down!" the woman was too tired to go on and Scarlette was having difficulty breathing as well.
"Who are you," the woman asked.
"I am Scarlette," she answered. "Scarlette Sparrow."
"No," the woman gasped. "Seriously? I don't believe it! What'll I tell my husband! I was saved by Scarlette Sparrow! Even though she was dressed like a boy. He's gonna be so excited!"
"Keep it down," Scarlette told her, lowering her voice. "I kind of don't want people to know who I am."
Scarlette, rather than running through the town, knowing their pursuit would be likely to catch up, ran straight for the Northern part of Port Royal. Before long, they were immersed in darkness, under the trees. It was pretty much a jungle through here. If one pressed onwards, they would reach the place where the Pearl usually docked. No one was near enough to hear but Scarlette still felt uneasy.
"My name's Shelly," the woman told her as they stood under the lush greenery. They continued to walk for a bit. Scarlette was waiting until she was sure they had a clean break for the Turner house. The darkness was almost complete, but the light from the sky, be it the moon or the stars, reflected off the greenery in silvery slivers.
Scarlette stopped suddenly. Shelly continued a few more steps and turned around to face her. "What's wrong?"
"Quiet," Scarlette whispered. She could feel something in the trees. Something was watching them. It was the first time Scarlette had noticed any power involved in the chase and it was strange. She didn't have a name for what she was feeling, but she knew something was not right.
She was staring at the darkness under the trees and fronds around them so intently that everything seemed to blur together. Shelly gave a squeal as she was pulled into the branches of a tree. Scarlette whirled about, searching the dark surroundings for a target. She finally saw them, but … that couldn't possibly be right. There weren't any of those left.
"Isla de Muerta!" she exclaimed. There were several corpses staring at her. They started towards her, shambling like zombies. Scarlette turned around and sped off in the other direction, not catching any sight of Shelly.
"Shit! Not again!" she ran through the foliage, dodging the biggest obstacles but running through the bushes and such. She dared a glance behind and realized that they weren't keeping up with her. They weren't running at all. The corpses merely watched her from a distance, their dead eyes holding no intelligence, only hunger.
"What the hell is going on?" she asked the thick air around her. These weren't cursed pirates, out for revenge. They were actually … dead. The slow moving zombies held her attention as she marveled at their presence. She gasped when she heard the hoof beats coming towards her.
…
[2014]
"Finally! The little punk is asleep!" Kami flopped down on a soft chair on the third floor. She wiped her brow and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she spotted a thin string hanging from the ceiling.
Sitting up quickly, she reached up to pull it.
"Miss Kami!" a voice called from downstairs. "The Master is on the phone. He would like to speak to you."
Kami looked at the door and back to the string. "I guess I'll find out later." She hurried down the stairs to speak to her employer.
…
[1769]
Scarlette began running again, though she knew staying put might have been a better idea. All her movement through the flora and fauna was making it easy for her pursuer. She forced herself to slow down and creep through the greenery, cutting her sound in half.
She stopped and ducked down under a leaning palm tree blown to bow by the wind. With her palms flat to the dirt, she watched. The pounding beats of the horse's hooves became louder as it progressively drew closer. Suddenly, without warning, they stopped.
Scarlette could hear her own heart, touching her rib caged with each palpitation. She tried to hold her breath but realized in doing so, she endangered her conscious status. Adrenaline made it difficult to breathe quietly but she calmed enough to take in slow, silent breaths, pressing a point between her eyebrows to composed herself further.
Unexpectedly, she heard it, the slow, methodic stirring of dirt by the large hooves of a tired stallion. Scarlette could see the silhouette of the animal's head as it lifted and snorted. She watched it walk around, sans rider.
Relieved, she came out from under the palm, brushed her legs off, and moved towards the animal. She clicked with her tongue and the animal perked up. It came towards her, into the light of the moon. It rubbed its velvet muzzle against her hand and poked her in the shoulder as she looked at its back.
"Harnessed?" she wondered. There were leather reigns and an intricate saddle on its magnificent back. The muscles rippled under the dark brown fur. She slid a hand along its beautiful hide and something clicked in her mind. A fully saddled horse, bit and all, does not just run through the jungle.
"How silly of you," he said from the shadows. "You'd trust a mere animal. They're just as ruthless as humans you know." The horse gave a slight squeal and backed up. She gripped the leather and kept it against her side.
Scarlette turned and fixed her eyes upon the shadow. His voice was deep, though not a growl. It resonated but did not fill the clearing. The horse moved toward the shadow and she let it go.
"Who are you and what do you request of me?" she asked him, letting her voice deepen. He laughed a bit and shook his head.
"You aren't fooling me, dear," he told her. "I know who and what you are."
"Answer my question, sir," she told him bluntly. This was most peculiar and she was glad she was still armed.
"Funny that my name escapes you." She narrowed her eyes at the dark figure. Why should it be funny?
"Nick? Are you still alive?" she tightened her grip on the sword at her hip. Nick had tried his best to kill her.
"I am not this person. I know not why everyone assumes that I am."
"Then you are not my brother."
"I certainly hope not, Sparrow."
Scarlette was tiring of the conversation. She had steadily been retreating into the trees. The man stood from his position and she bolted, fearing he would attempt at catching her.
Her scream, though not characteristic to her person, rang true, cutting through the jungle, finding its way through the air and hitting a certain pair of ears.
The sight she met when she made her about face was not what she had expected to say the least. Three corpses, nearly rotted to the core, stood like husked sentries. One reached out to grab her arm, moving considerably faster than the last batch she'd spotted. She hissed and swatted at it, backpedaling furiously.
Quickly, she became trapped, for the shadowed speaker pinned her quite effortlessly to his chest. This position did not last long, however. She thrashed about so rambunctiously that he was forced to release her. He let her go and she whirled around in a rage, her sword clearing the leather. With one wild look to the corpses, she took off, flying through the trees as if her very life depended on escape, in which case, she may have been correct.
The beating of hooves once again alerted her to pursuit. She stopped and crouched down, gripping her blade tightly. She let all her breath go one in one, calming exhale and focused on the sounds.
She jumped up from the bushes to hit the rider and was blown over by the wind. There was no rider or horse. She had been run through by a ghostly apparition. The flowing power of the chill wind still whipped about and Scarlette realized that she had lost her weapon. She ducked, close to the ground, shielding from this cold wind that had nothing to do with the Caribbean weather. Her small hands searched the scissor-like grass about her for the sword to no avail. Another gust of wind knocked her over and she went sprawling over the ground, blinded by the darkness.
Hoof beats sounded again as the real horse stepped up to where she was lying. She attempted to stand but the wind had stolen her energy and given it to the night. The rider dismounted and knelt before her, smiling smugly.
"Oh, Scarlette," he laughed. "So brave. Too bad it's a wasted effort."
"Screw you," she spat, forcing herself to her feet. He allowed her to stand and begin to stumble off. He sighed, got back on his horse and started after her at a canter.
She looked back and scowled at him. Attempting to escape, though they both knew she wasn't fooling anyone, she picked up her pace, finally collapsing over a bent palm. She managed to clamber over it before falling completely to the ground.
The rider dismounted again and stepped over the tree to kneel beside her once again. She opened her eyes and glared up at him.
"I'm not going anywhere, you bloody cad," she told him bluntly, mostly in denial. There was no stopping him now.
"Are you absolutely certain, wench?" he asked her. He grabbed her hands before she had a chance to fight and pulled her up in one fluid motion, not stopping the momentum and moving her to his shoulder.
She fought feebly and when she realized that she may not get away from this man, she let out a scream that could have woken the dead had she been given the opportunity. He dropped her quite suddenly and she gasped, unable to draw breath. He placed a hand on her forehead and locked eyes with her.
"You will not win this time, woman," he breathed in deeply and simultaneously, Scarlette felt as if she were loosing breath. She began to see colors superimposed over the darkness. Not a few seconds had passed before she fell unconscious.
…
Jack sat up quickly enough to make a bird that had been roosting in his barred window spook and flee. Her scream tapered off and he stood up.
"Norrington!" he shouted. "Get down here, now!"
The commodore however was not in the vicinity.
Jack began pacing in anger and frustration. Somewhere in Port Royal, Scarlette was in trouble. She didn't scream like that for spiders.
An officer appeared. "Is something the matter, sir?"
Jack stopped and gave him The Look. "Did you just hear that scream?"
"Ah, yes sir. I did."
"That woman is in danger and I want her out of it, understand?"
"You're in a snit because some woman is being mugged?"
"No, you barnacle born snot head! That was Scarlette! If she gets into trouble and doesn't come back, I'm going after you as soon as I can, savvy?"
The officer gulped and nodded quickly. Not ten minutes later, Jack heard the sounds of the KR on the street below. In his worry, the irony that the Company riders were being sent out to rescue a pirate didn't even make him smile.
He hopped up to perch at the window, gripping the bars tightly. He could just see what they were doing. Moving around leisurely, the men seemed to not be in any sort of hurry. Jack shouted down at them.
"Get a move on! A woman is in bloody danger and you're not doing a thing about it! Cowards, the lot of you!"
The riders left the vicinity of Jack's window in remarkable speed.
…
[2014 AD]
Kami, finally getting the chance to revisit the room, glanced up at the string in remote interest. She had returned with an industrial sized can of bug spray lest there be any spiders, roaches or, dare I say it … earwigs. Those she hated the most.
She pulled a dusty chair up to the area and climbed upon it, reaching carefully for the twined cord. She gave a few abrupt yanks on it and the trap swung open, raining dust particles down on her.
She sneezed violently and had to jump down from the chair before waving away the dust. Looking back up, she noticed a thin set of ladder rungs leading up into the attic's musty interior.
"Well," she sighed, rubbing her bare arms. "Here goes nothing."
…
It was dawn in Port Royal and the Turner estate was in complete pandemonium. Bootstrap had locked himself in his room, the future girls were pacing, crying, or refusing to get out of bed, Sean and Tony were missing, Will was sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at a coat of arms above the mantle and Scarlette had yet to return.
"She's been taken," Chelsea was ranting. Claudia was following this girl at close quarters, attempting to calm her down.
"Now, maybe she just went to the jail to visit Jack," Claudia attempted.
"All night?" Heather remarked.
Claudia laughed. "Well … you know them …"
"That's more than I wanted to think about," Heather muttered.
"No! She's gone!" Chelsea exclaimed, spinning around and gesticulating wildly.
Heather was sitting on the edge of Kristin's bed with her head in her hands, muttering repeatedly, "This can't be good. Something's wrong. Everybody's disappearing."
"You know," a surly voice piped up. "I really wonder if anyone realized we were missing at all." Tony and Sean walked into the crowded room and sat down on either side of Heather, who continued to murmur.
"Where have you two been?" Kristin asked angrily, wiping a tear from one of her eyes.
"Finding shit out, that's where," Sean exclaimed. "Scarlette was chased into the jungle last night. There were a few screams and then the weird shit started happening."
"Yeah," Tony added. "There was this strange … vision thing. Kind of like a hologram from Star Wars. It was a horse and rider that ran over the trees."
"It disappeared and then, we ran," Sean finished rather quickly.
"No," Tony contradicted. "It disappeared, and two dead guys came out of the trees. You screamed like a little girl, and THEN you ran."
"Yeah, well," Sean retorted. "You passed out cold and wet yourself and that's why we didn't come back last night. I had to drag Mr. Soggy Bottoms about a half a mile."
"Well, what about Ryo?" Claudia demanded. "Did she escape?"
Sean shook his head. "No such luck. We saw a real rider take off towards the shore. I can't really be sure due to the dark but it looked like there were two people on that horse."
"Not to say she was willing," Tony added. "There are only two ways she could have been carried off. One, if she was indeed willing, which we know isn't likely, and two, if she was unconscious, which seems the more plausible event."
"What the hell is going on?" Chelsea exploded. "Everybody is disappearing for this stupid treasure. Now they're going to get Jack on the deal as well and all hell is about to break loose!"
"Maybe," Kristin answered. "Or maybe something unexpected will happen."
"Unexpected?" Claudia shouted. "How can you get more unexpected than three of your friends getting kidnapped consecutively?"
"Well, put it this way," Tony added. "Nothing's exploded yet."
A large sound, consisting of splintering wood, flying debris and everything else characteristic of an explosion reached their ears.
…
[The night before]
He pushed his horse to move quickly and the animal flew over the dusty road. The corpses vanished beneath the ground as he fled and Scarlette, nestled unknowingly in front of the rider, stayed unconscious.
The hooves beat upon the wooden pier as he kicked the horse into gear so to speak. The animal reached the end of the line and jumped off the wooden runway into seemingly nothing but air and water. It landed however, quite squarely on the deck of a ship.
The man dismounted, pulling Scarlette with him, her tattered men's clothes hanging unflatteringly from her limp body. He lifted her as if she were a child and started for the stairs to the below decks when something blotted out the moonlight. He looked up to see the rippling black sails of The Black Pearl.
"Calm yourselves, men," he shouted to his panicking crew. "They're just docking. They do not know." He handed Scarlette to the nearest crewmember, Cob, and stepped up to the gunwales.
"Look closely, men," he told them. "We'll be seein' quite a bit of her if all goes according to plan."
Unbeknownst to him, Scarlette had just opened her eyes. Cob was not paying attention to her other than to hold her. She gave a faint little smile and looked around carefully. The Pearl was not even twenty feet away.
She launched her legs over his shoulder, using her arms around his neck as a lever. Her body followed and she kicked his legs out from under him once she was behind her guard.
It did not take long for her to sprint to the edge and poise for a dive. As she launched herself from the deck in a mirror of Jack's famous swan dive, a lone rope, acting virtually on its own power, wrapped around her midsection and dropped her back to the deck with a painfully abrupt sound. She lay on her back for a moment, soaking in the pain.
Her captor, who had by then been standing very close, reached down and pulled her up, very nonchalantly. She gave him a look, and moved to try it again. He yanked her against him and she twisted out of his grasp once more.
When he had caught her for the third time, she shouted out to the Pearl. "Anamaria! Gibbs! Cotton! Help! Someone get me off this ship!"
The man behind her laughed. "They can't hear you. Time to go below, Sparrow."
"No," she exclaimed. "I'm not going anywhere you want me to."
"Oh, I think you will," he told her, placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her towards him. One palm went to her forehead. He breathed in and she blacked out again.
…
She awoke to see her captor's hand coming away from her face. They were below decks and she could feel several other people in the room.
"What the hell is going on?" she asked him bluntly. She sat up and he moved to sit on a crate. Only then did she notice who was actually in the room.
Robin and Elizabeth sat as far away from the man as possible while Shelly reached out towards Scarlette. Her attention was drawn to the man when he cleared his throat.
"Yes, well, Sparrow. You are basically insurance."
"Insurance, huh? Well, sir. I assure you, had you contacted my husband, you two may have been able to work something out. I, on the other hand, would have told you to fuck off and find your own damn treasure."
He laughed at her. "I knew you were bold Sparrow but I never imagined you to use such language. Such is not fit for a woman."
"I am not just any woman, sir. You will do well to remember that."
"Ah yes. You are but a wench."
Scarlette blinked. "Excuse me?"
"That's right. You cannot lie about it. Just a serving wench to one notorious Captain Sparrow."
A dull thud followed his words as Scarlette buried her fist in his eye. After he had recovered, she addressed him rather calmly.
"Think what you will. I do not serve him, but if I did it would be only to him, do you understand? And if I am to be held captive, I will demand a bit more respect for my friends and me."
"And what exactly do you mean," he asked, holding a hand to his face and crooning over his injury.
"If you're going to keep us down here, at least give us some proper bedding."
"Ah, Sparrow. If one desires proper bedding, there is only one place on this ship that merits such, and that comes with certain … requirements."
"Well then, sir. No bedding needed. But at least make it a bit more hospitable."
"Unless I am persuaded to do so, nothing will come about. I have no reason to make my prisoners comfortable."
"I could always hit you again," Scarlette muttered. "Is that persuasion enough?"
"Asshole," Robin snorted. The man looked slightly offended but refused to answer.
"Trust me, sir. I can make it so you'll rather us be comfortable," Scarlette told him.
"See; nothing but a wench. Bribes are useless."
"That wasn't a bribe, you moron. It was a threat. Leave it to men to think we're propositioning them when really all we want to do is put a bullet through their rarely utilized brain."
The man frowned and leaned forward. "Are you mocking me, Sparrow?"
"No, not really. Well, maybe, but only because you kidnapped me."
"And you're not frightened?"
"Not anymore. In a way, I'm sort of flattered. I haven't been kidnapped in over ten years."
"Now you are mocking me."
"You betcha."
"Hey!" Cob exclaimed. "We're getting an outline!"
"All right," the man grunted. "Send someone down here." Cob and Jericho came down the steps and looked to him for orders. He pointed at Shelly and they moved to grab her. She was hauled to her feet and halfway to the stairs before Scarlette piped up.
"What are you doing with her?"
"You see, wench," he explained. "The reason I am infallible is because my ship is invisible, or at least has the ability of becoming so. In order to keep it at such, I need fresh blood from a female every few days."
"Oh, hell no," Scarlette told him. "You will not use her. Don't even try it." She ran over and in the midst of their confusion, she dragged Shelly back to her side of the room. "Not on my watch, buddy." Their confusion, if anyone was wondering, came from a woman acting so unafraid in their captain's presence.
"What is she talking about?" asked Jericho. "Morgan? She's insane."
He sighed. "No, she's perfectly sane. And righteously annoying. Take her instead."
The two men gave a glance at their boss. "Uh … sir? That's not exactly safe."
"For who? Just do it."
"Are you kiddin', mon? Dat one woke up already! Not human."
"She's human. She's just got ties to the dead," Morgan glanced at her. "That's why she'll be easier to use for this. We won't even have to kill her."
Jericho shrugged. "She's fast, I favor my coconuts. You grab her."
"My, my," Scarlette said sarcastically. "And there's no danger of mutiny here, eh? Apparently Captain Morgan doesn't have much control." She immediately started laughing as she stood and put a foot up on the crate. "Captain Morgan! Hah!" Her laughing fit was uncontrollable. Robin giggled as well while everyone stared in confusion.
The two crew members stood, rooted to the spot in horror. She wasn't at all afraid of any of them and seemed to think their captain was hilarious in his inability. They would never have laughed.
Morgan stood with a sigh and moved to stand before her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she continued to giggle. He cleared his throat and she looked up at him, her face amused.
"May I help you, Captain Morgan?" she snorted and attempted to curb her laughter.
"See," he told his crew. "Nothing to fear. She's quite harmless."
"That's what you think," she told him, most seriously. "Had I a weapon, you would not be anywhere as close as you are now."
"Ah," he smiled. "And what do you make of this, hmmm?" he placed a hand on Shelly's forehead and the girl's eyes rolled back. She toppled to the floor, unconscious. "She'll be that way for at least two hours. You, on the other hand, will not stay in that state for more than a minute unless still in contact with my powers. This means you have either killed several people, been severed from everyone in your bloodline by death, or have come almost to the point of death, yourself."
Scarlette raised her hand as if in school. "Is there an all of the above category?" Cob fell down at this statement.
Scarlette smiled. "My mother was killed when I was seven. My brother was killed after Jack and I had escaped from London and my father died two years ago. I killed a number of Barbossa's men while he was still alive and I have almost died twice before. Once by blade and once by gunshot."
Morgan smiled slightly and Jericho laughed. "She's going to give you hell, man."
"I know it," he growled. "Take her to the figurehead."
"Like I said before, mon," Cob struggled, pulling himself to his feet. "We not be touchin' dat girl."
Morgan sighed. "And you call yourselves men."
"Well, yeah," Jericho agreed. "And we want to continue to call ourselves men. Grabbing her, we can't guarantee that."
Morgan smiled and Scarlette gave a short laugh. It was fun evoking terror in grown pirate men. It was not fun however, when Morgan tossed her over his shoulder and left the room, taking her up the stairs and out into the night.
"Son of a bitch!"
"Please do not speak of my mother that way. She was not so kind, but I do owe her my existence."
"Lamentably so, I dare say," Scarlette cracked. Jericho snorted but covered his mouth to hide his mirth. "Put me down."
"Sorry. You'll just run off again."
"I will not hesitate to hurt you, sir."
"Pain is but a material feeling."
He carried her towards the bow of the ship and finally set her loose, save for his grip on one wrist.
"Normally, one would have to die to feed this ship but I will show you what we mean by 'outline'." He grabbed onto the bowsprit with his left hand and swung her out over the edge. Three ropes from the lattice rigging flew out of their own accord and wrapped around her waist, holding her far from the ship. She grasped these, her knuckles whitening. The ship was alive.
"Look at the ship," he told her. She could barely hear his voice but look she did. She could not see much of it but there was a discernable shape, not lending itself much to an opaque image. There were few lines of color and hardly any luster but the water and surroundings definitely wavered. She nodded and called out. "I see it." The ropes yanked her back abruptly and Morgan caught her roughly before she could run off again.
"Now, we feed it."
"Feed it?" She frowned and her eyebrows showed her discomfort as well. "Define 'feed it'."
"Oh, come now, wench. Don't tell me the notorious Mrs. Sparrow, one who helped defeat the vampire pirate Barbossa amongst other things is afraid? Given that you've three different ties to the dead, a death is not needed to fulfill this monster's appetite."
"If I feed it, will you allow my friends and I free reign on the ship with your protection from the crew as well?"
"My, you are specific. Yes, I suppose that's a fair bargain."
"Deal?" she thrust out her tiny hand and he glanced at it. Looking up into her face, he grasped her small hand in his pale one. "Aye."
He lowered a small swing seat and climbed out onto it, gesturing for her to follow. She gave him a look that said she'd rather watch. There was not enough room on that bench for two people.
"Oh, be not a squeamish one," he told her. "It's not I you need to fear."
"Ahoy!" came a shout from land. "What be there? Man, look at this!"
Morgan sighed. "They can see us now. Hurry, wench, or safe roam for anyone is not a guarantee."
Scarlette smiled. "If I let them see the ship, we'll be rescued."
"Oh, I think not," he told her, clenching a fist. The ropes twined again and seized her, lifting her off the deck. He pulled her roughly from the ropes to his knee.
"How do you do that?" she asked.
"That, small one, would be telling," he answered, pulling out a knife. His balance was good for he was perched on the thin plank of the swing, holding her around the waist, digging around for his knife and managing to keep from crashing into the bow. He bared her left hand and sliced across the palm, quickly and without hesitation. He pointed to the figurehead.
It was not, as normal figureheads went, very hopeful. It was but a skeleton with great hollow sockets for eyes. It reached with its spindly arms outwards, a lantern dangling from its fingers. It was nothing like the woman and her bird that graced the Pearl's bow.
He pointed to the face of the skull. "Smear it across the mouth. Quickly."
By quickly she assumed he meant the fact that the image of the ship was growing stronger by the minute and in a way, he was. But that was not the only reason she needed to be expedient.
She pressed her small palm across the grin of the skull, noticing that it sported a pair of fangs. She was moving her hand along the bleached denticles, feeling the sting of the salt residue left there by the sea, when she suddenly felt them move beneath her hand. The eye sockets glowed red and she yanked her hand back with a shout of surprise. It glared at her with a devilish fury and gnashed its teeth.
"Holy shit!" she exclaimed, almost falling from the swing. Had Morgan not tightened his grip on her small waist, she'd have fallen to the Caribbean. As it was, the skull was growling audibly, smoke rising from between its canines.
"What is that thing?" she whispered in fear.
"It is not to be mentioned here," he told her. He gripped another rope and pulled on it, raising the swing until Scarlette could jump to the edge of the deck. She hoisted herself over the edge and he followed shortly after.
She hesitated near the edge, attempting a glance over. He grabbed her roughly and pulled her after him.
"What was that?" she demanded. "What the hell have you done?" He ignored her, his dark coat billowing behind him, a lock of dark brown hair trailing in the wind under his foppish hat. The trim on his coat was almost silver in the moonlight and his pale skin seemed to glow, framed by all the darkness of his clothing and hair. He turned to face her and his eyes all but gleamed. His hair was mid back length, and styled more like a woman's, long and slightly curled.
"This ship is alive." Scarlette spoke again. "Why?"
"That is my business and this is my ship. It needs to feed or it becomes visible." He turned and walked to the gunwales, still dragging her along.
"Why is it like that? And how the hell are you controlling the ship?" Scarlette, rather than trying to get away was following with curiosity.
He sighed and stopped walking. He leaned against the foremast and put a hand against the wood. "Every fiber of this ship in its construction was touched by the dead. Those ropes? Twined from the hair of nearby corpses. Those sails? They aren't black. That is the deepest of reds, blood on black material. You will find that a majority of the latches and handles on this ship are made of bone. This wood that you stand on is stained black by the blood of thousands, all of which died to paint it. That underlying scent you smell? That is the aftertaste of death itself." As he spoke, he had been drawing slowly closer. Simultaneously, she had backed up gradually in attempt to keep the distance between them. She bumped into the gunwale and glanced back to judge how far down she might have fallen. She turned back and he slammed his hands down on either side of her.
"I control every bit of this ship because it is of the dead, but only because it allows me to. I cater to its hunger and I can take on any other ship in the world, be it galleon or hoy. Or even The Black Pearl. So much for Captain Jack Sparrow."
"In mentioning him you may as well be speaking of me," she growled.
"Except for one fact," he said smugly. "You are trapped here with me and will remain so."
"Until?"
He laughed and pulled away from her, walking towards the cabin. "Until the day I am defeated, or until I decided to let you go."
She glared at his retreating form and started for the hatch.
"Oh, and Scarlette," he informed her from the stairs. "Save your energy. Any escape attempt by you or your friends will be thwarted by my men or the ship."
"More likely by the ship," she snapped. "Since your men seemed to be terrified of me."
He smiled and shrugged. "One other thing. You might want to steer clear of Ruby."
"Who?"
"The blonde that you called a slut. She asked me to kill you as soon as I brought you aboard. She seems to think you're a threat to her position."
"Is she dangerous?"
"To most people. Her mother was a siren. She has a hypnotic voice except for to those few, like yourself, that have some of the same characteristics for feeding the ship without a death. Her voice is nothing to me but an occasional accompaniment."
"Her voice is like that of a dying cat," one of the crewmembers shouted from below decks.
"Good one, Mullins," another voice added.
"Excuse me?" a very female voice interrupted. Ruby emerged from the cabin and Morgan jumped.
"What were you doing in there?" he asked.
"Waiting for you," she purred, making him frown. "And my voice;" she stated with a blatant look at Scarlette before stomping on the hatch's grate. "Is not a dying cat's." With that, she took up a powerful song. This girl was very soprano but Scarlette was not impressed.
"You've got a real vibrato problem," she told the wannabe diva. "And heaven forbid you ever try to sing anything in close range of middle C. You probably can't even get below a G on the staff. Not a very good range. People get sick of hearing all that squeaky high stuff."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said snobbily. "And even if you are criticizing my wonderful singing, I doubt you know anything."
Scarlette smiled. "You just keep thinkin' that, luv."
Ruby gave her a look. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I'm not in the mood to cater to your ill advanced ego or to break it, unless you absolutely force me to."
The crew began to filter out onto the deck, along with the three other prisoners. Elizabeth and Robin looked at Scarlette with small smiles on their faces.
"What she's trying to say," Mullins cut in with obvious loathing towards Ruby. "Is that she does not want to compete with you."
"Oh, but she must," a different woman declared. She was taller than Scarlette and more solid with her blonde hair tied back with a dark bandana. "Someone female should stand up to her vocally. I've had enough of Jericho, Mullins, Cob, Sheikh Abu, and all the other men on board who think they can sing. Not to mention the harem …." She showed her disgust visibly, sticking her tongue out and screwing up her face. Sheikh Abu had his house of women on board with him and most were as stupid as they were beautiful.
"Oh," Robin laughed. "Yay, Ryoko. A contest! This should be funny."
"I don't want to," Scarlette muttered gruffly.
"Listen to that voice," Ruby snorted. "That one does not sing."
"That seems to be the general consensus," Elizabeth agreed. "But you've only heard her speaking, and angry."
Scarlette was glaring at Ruby and every one was surprised when she did begin to sing. No one but Robin knew the song however. It was from a well known musical, but this was the 18th century.
No matter, the men were staring at her as she transitioned into a different octave, one more familiar to Ruby's. Though, the surprise was not where she ended up, in the regions of soprano, but of where she'd begun. It had been a two octave jump.
As she continued through the music, she settled on a middle range between both ranges, her voice not only equipped with bravado enough to shut up Ruby, but a controlled vibrato as opposed to the other woman's frantic shivers.
Scarlette finished and the men swallowed and applauded. Apparently, not many of them liked Ruby. Speaking of which, the blonde was smiling at Scarlette, but there was no warmth to it. It was a sign of rivalry to come.
…
[Present time in 1769]
Tony, Sean, Chelsea, Kristin, Claudia, the Turners and Topher ran outside to see what had happened. Apparently, there was a cannon fight going on in the harbor.
Will, Bootstrap, and Topher took off for the stables. A few seconds later, they emerged on horses only to vanish down the road. The future kids were left to wonder or run. They took off without a thought.
…
Scarlette fell to the water and climbed into the cannon slot of the Pearl. Elizabeth, Robin, and Shelly had all been grabbed by the ropes but there weren't enough on that side of the ship to catch all four of them.
"Okay, what needs to happen," she'd explained to the three of them a few moments before. "Is you all need to jump at the same time. Trust me, you won't fall. I promise. I will, but I'm supposed to fall. That's the point. You'll see what I mean."
And so they had. The three women had vaulted from the ship within milliseconds of each other and all had been snagged by at most, two ropes. Shelly only got one because there weren't enough to give her two. By the time they had been set on the deck, Scarlette had hit the water below.
Morgan opened his door as if on instinct and looked over, catching sight of Scarlette's disappearing feet.
"To the guns!" he shouted. "Cob, man the helm, get her turned to starboard. The Pearl is at our stern."
"No wind, Cap'n," Cob shouted, gripping the helm, which was bleached a curious white color.
"Obesity and bunions!" Morgan hissed.
…
[2014]
Kami emerged into a dark interior of an old attic. There wasn't much to catch the eye. A few old cardboard boxes, a broken cane, and an old rusted chest. That looked pretty interesting.
She crawled over towards it and pulled it to the center of the floor, kicking up dust in its wake. She waved it off and attempted to hold her breath. It wasn't good to take in large breaths of air when trying to avoid dust. She coughed harshly and blinked away tears and eventually the dust settled.
She looked at the rusted latch on the chest. There was a small lock but the metal was so eaten that she could twist the feeble lock off with her bare hands. She opened the chest carefully, sifting carefully through its contents. There was a scrap of old fabric that looked as if it had once been red. Several odd beads littered the box along with quite a collection of Chinese coins and a long, thin bone with a threaded hole at one end. There were a total of three books, one leather bound, one of fabric and string binding and the last, just pages, tied together with a thong of leather. On to the most interesting contents.
A small black box with a white design on the lid caught her eye. She pulled it out and opened it.
"A compass?" she wondered. She fiddled with it for a few minutes. "It's broken. I know that Fort Charles is south. This says its north east." She continued to rifle through the box. Her hand froze when she found the pistol. She pulled it out in a hurry once she'd figured out what it was.
"This is over 200 years old! Fuck." She began to examine it. "I could totally sell some of this stuff in my shop. God, that's real silver in the handle." She slipped the pistol into a small leather sack she'd found in the box as well.
"Ooh!" she exclaimed, pulling out a chain that held several things. It appeared to be a necklace, with a large emerald handing from the gold. There were a total of three rings on the chain as well, and an ornate silver cross. The rings were each set in gold, one just a band, another bearing a black stone, and the last had the face of a skull forged into the gold. Its eyes shone red, even in the semi darkness.
"Cool," she commented, switching her attention to the necklace. It was beautiful in the dusk light of the attic but would be gorgeous in real light.
"It looks like an emerald," she whispered to herself. She set it down and shoveled some of the other stuff into her bag. The master of the house wouldn't miss it. Most likely, it wasn't his stuff anyway.
She began to climb down the ladder but realized she'd forgotten the necklace. She reached out for it and the second her fingers touched the gold, she heard a voice echoing about the room.
"Jack! Look out!"
She jerked back and thought about it. In the end, her need to see the emerald in real light won over her fear of leftover voices.
She hooked the chain and grasped its pendant tightly in her hand and climbed further down the ladder only to land on what she thought was the floor.
Until she looked around in wonder at a sandy beach amidst cannon fire, shouts, and rain, despite the brilliant sunlight. Someone hit her hard and flew over her to lie in the sand a few feet away. In her surprise, she dropped the emerald into a tide pool at her feet.
…
Fun, fun. Whatever. Review! Do it! Please? So, my latest endeavor in the theater world is Charlotte's Web. I'm playing Templeton, everybody's favorite rodent. Funny, reading the script. This is one character who's very Jack Sparrow. I'm not sure how the show's going to go. The director was just in the hospital for something. We'll see. Cheers.