(Ah yes, Elizabeth has a hunch now... She vaguely knows more than the audience believed.)
The scraggily human beings taunted her, murmuring suggestive comments to their comrades and constantly eyeing Elizabeth's pretty countenance and ample cleavage as she paced the small cell, her mind whirling.
"Seems yer husband ain't coming back."
She glowered at the man, whipping around to the prisoners with her teeth bared. This stupid man had no right to speak to her. "Will is coming back, and he isn't my husband... Yet."
"Then why waste yer time with 'im? Come over here, and I'll show ya a good time, lass. Ain't that right boys?" They chortled, chucking one another in the shoulder as Elizabeth retreated to the opposite side with a disgusted look upon her face. "So what are you in for, girl? Caught snogging with 'im in town? I hear that ain't proper."
Elizabeth scowled for the second time, but she would not allow the revolting human being to continue with innuendos that her father would consider too harsh for a lady's ears. This was not to say Elizabeth objected due to being a prude, she merely protested due to the discourse concerning her. With a slightly menacing tinge to her tone, Elizabeth answered, "We helped Jack Sparrow escape."
"You mean he's still alive?" Another man responded, his crimped beard waggling as he spoke. "What do ya reckon they want 'im fer now?"
The original offender shouted, "The Black Pearl a' course!"
Elizabeth now became a bystander of these felons, who prattled on about Captain Jack's infamous history. For some reason, she did not pull herself away from the men, but took a few steps forward as the crimped beard spoke again.
"You sure he ain't got another debt to pay? Won't Ol' Hobb be calling upon 'im soon?" He laughed at the grave that Jack Sparrow had burrowed for himself.
"Aye, that be true, Gret."
Gret nodded, falling back onto the bench and flexing his hands. "Jack Sparrow's always got a debt, don't he? Perhaps this Beckett fellow readied yet another one fer 'im."
"What debt?" Elizabeth asked, now gripping the bars. Even though she was not entirely certain, she realized that this venture was not about the Black Pearl at all. The rotting humans disregarded her presence, too caught up in the legends and myths surrounding various pirates. She plunked onto the bench, fiddling with the extravagant beads that now dangled by a few threads. The woman clicked her heels together and gazed around the cell, contemplating the disaster that had been thrust upon her. Elizabeth closed her eyes, imagining that, instead, she was lounging in a honeymoon suite overlooking the expansive ocean, and Will was lying behind her, whispering delectable secrets in her ear. She could not help expressing a single exultant sigh, but the smell of a man's filthy hands made her leap to her feet. She slapped him away, and the criminals only chuckled to themselves, continuing their conversation as Elizabeth surrendered to the dank conditions.
No, she would never relish in the pleasures of a wedding ritual unless Will miraculously bargained a pardon for the pair. Elizabeth rubbed her temples as more thoughts swirled and images of the hangman's noose slid into view. If Lord Beckett did not formulate any terms for their release, Elizabeth swore to herself that she would weasel her way out of prison. The woman abruptly stepped up on the bench, balanced for a moment, and then clasped the bars of the window above her. She stared into the harbor, where magnificent vessels coasted through the Port Royal's waters, their sails flapping in the gusts of wind. Elizabeth wiggled the bars, finding them ever so slightly loose and she smugly smiled. Yes, this could definitely aid in their escape if it came to that, but she would need to remove the beautiful gown if she were to slip through the opening. The woman carefully stepped back on solid ground, the beat of drums echoing in her mind. The horrid rhythm of drums that signified death. She shook herself of the vision and nearly crawled on her knees when Will appeared, his attire built for travel. Elizabeth heard not what her father or Carruthers said; instead, she entwined her hands through the thick bars and cast an eager glance at Will's boots.
"Will..." she squealed softly and voiced the first question that popped in her mind, "What did he want?"
"Jack's compass." Will answered placidly, and Elizabeth immediately realized that he had already accepted the mission.
Her eyebrows furrowed as she realized her assumption was correct. This lord wasn't after the Black Pearl at all. She stared at the baldric that was slung at Will's hip, her eyes widening as she returned her gaze to his fuzzy face. So now, would she be left on her own? In this cell with putrid men who wreaked of liquor and dirt?
Shoving the lingering questions aside, Elizabeth repeated, "Jack's compass. What does Beckett want with that?"