Chapter VII

Music in the Gibbets and the Thing You Want Most

Bree was known for her temper. She was also known for her recklessness and hasty actions. But this was far too rash.

Beckett was hardly surprised when Bree was dragged into his office, kicking and growling like a wild beast. The chain was bundled around her arms, neck and wrists. She was too tangled to break loose.

Beckett rose, his arm in a sling. He looked up at Norrington, who stood to the side, "Well? What happened?"

Norrington looked slightly apologetic, "I'm sorry, Lord Beckett. We were going to hang that pirate Thomas Fletcher. We went into the cell to get him, but the moment I put the chains on him, the girl came barreling out of the shadows of the corner and sank her teeth into the nearest guard. I think she snapped his neck. But then, when we tried to get Fletcher out and keep the girl in, she got her claws around one of Fletcher's chains and actually managed to hook it to the wall manacles. She fought like mad. We had to leave off hanging Fletcher."

Beckett raised his eyebrows, "So why did you bring her here?"

Norrington spread his hands, "What should we do with her?"

Beckett thought for a moment, then said, "Hang her from a gibbet. Don't feed her, and let her know that now, Thomas Fletcher's life depends on her information. If she talks, we will release him, but if she doesn't, we will hang him. This has played to our advantage."

Norrington nodded obediently, not enjoying the prospect of hanging a girl from a gibbet. He thought it was a cruel punishment for anyone, even the vilest of pirates. But he followed orders. His honor and reputation meant too much to him.

Bree had her face pressed to the bars of the hanging cage. She had made the mistake of looking down. The drop was sickening, and she was sure the cage would fall. It swayed with the slightest movement and the motion made her feel sick. Nausea clouded her senses.

Trying to catch some sort of sleep, Bree tried to move her body to a slightly more comfortable position. All she could do was lean her back against the bars and prop her knees up. The sun beat down mercilessly, not only burning her but also heating the metal she was leaning against. But she tried hard to ignore this. She had to think.

They would kill Thomas if she didn't tell where they could find the heart.

No…they won't kill 'im now! If they kill 'im, they'll have nothin' to bargain with!

Bree felt a bit more comforted by this. But her thoughts were diverted when she heard a slight noise below her. She didn't want to look down for fear of vomiting, but she opened her eyes.

Bree found herself staring into a pair of lusterless black eyes. She opened her mouth, her yelp coming out in a hoarse croak. The owner of the pair of eyes shushed her, speaking in a whisper, "Quiet, now, liddle snake. I come ta help ya."

Bree felt confused as the strange woman began searching through a satchel. Tia Dalma? But how? Why? And…how was she up here?

Tia Dalma made a noise of satisfaction as she found what she was looking for. Taking an object out of her satchel, she put her hand through the bars of the cage and took Bree's scarred hand in her own. She then placed the object firmly in Bree's palm, withdrawing her hands.

Bree moved her hands in the cramped space to see what the object was.

The music box!

Bree looked up at Tia, her eyes wide and confused, "Tia…why…"

Tia shushed her again, "Hush, liddle snake. Ya needs it. Rememba dat Davy Jones can hear ya. I can' do anythin' else for ya, but this shoul' help."

Bree looked down at the music box again, tears of gratitude welling up in her tired eyes, "Tia…thank ye…"

Tia placed a hand on the bars, speaking again, "Goddess ya may not be, but sea maiden ya'll always be."

Bree looked up, only to see that Tia was gone. Bree curled herself up, tucking her head down and beginning to wind up the music box. Her hands were shaking and weak, so it took her a long time.

At last, the song began to play. Oh, how wonderful it was to hear Davy's song! It soothed her tired mind and made her forget the pain. She softly began singing the words she had given to the song, but her voice was so weak and hoarse that some words didn't come out all the way and the song was broken.

As the song finished, a strange thing happened. Waves always broke along the rocky cliff from which the gibbet dangled. But they never reached as high as the cage. A monstrously huge breaker came rolling towards the small cage, a wall of sea-green crested with white foam. It broke upon the rocks, sending spray upwards. The refreshing spray hit Bree, so cool, so soft…like a gentle caress of the sea.

Sea maiden indeed.

The charm worked.

Davy Jones had interrupted Jack's long explanation of things in his cabin as he sprang up with surprising agility, slamming his claw down on the desk. Everyone went stiff with surprise as he stared off into the distance, his ice blue eyes wide. No one knew what was happening…but they knew it was something.

Jones moved around the table, pushing against the cabin doors and striding out onto the deck. He went to the Pearl's railing, staring off toward the horizon. His mind was whirling. The song!

Bree was calling him.

But from where, he did not know. He could hear the music, only faintly, but had no idea where it was coming from. He fought back the frustration as the others came out to join him.

Elizabeth looked up at Jones, daring to speak, "What…what is it?"

Jones didn't answer her, still trying to concentrate. When asked again, he spoke without looking down, "Bree…she's callin'…" His shoulders slumped suddenly, "…it stopped…"

Jack cleared his throat, "Er…wot d'yer mean?"

Jones glanced down at Jack, "The music box…an'…an' Bree was singin' too!" His hard eyes hinted at sorrow and concern, "She sounded weak an' sick!"

Will remembered the incident so long ago. Bree, after she had been captured by Davy Jones, had escaped the Dutchman and come to Tortuga with Jack. That was where the young blacksmith had met the girl. While there, she had showed him the music box. She had also told him of Jones' strange connection to it and the ability to hear it whenever it was played.

Will spoke, "Captain…do you have any idea where the sound is coming from?"

Jones shook his head slowly, "It stopped…"

All were someone frightened, now. Not only had Jones' words about Bree's supposed condition worried them, but the sight of him now was unnerving. His shoulders were slumped and his tentacle beard hung limply. He looked…hopeless…

But hope springs eternal. And it now came in the form of Flagg. The young pirate came up to the group, tapping Paul on the shoulder. Paul turned, "What is it, mate?"

Flagg whispered, "Will ye tell me what's been happenin' or no?"

Paul grinned, "Aye, sorry, m'boy. Been a bit caught up in things. Ye might prove to be a help in this venture. We're goin' to find a girl…Jones' girl, I reckon. Her name's Bree. Accomplished pirate, they say."

Flagg's eyes widened, "Bad Luck Bree?"

The group turned to Flagg, even Jones. Jack spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, "Actually, it's Broadsword Bree, now…" Jones pushed his way through to the young man, asking in a harsh voice, "How much d'ye know 'bout 'er?"

Flagg, for once, was not intimidated by Jones' presence. He began speaking, "Well, mates, I know Bree personally. Grew up with 'er, actually. We used t' pinch rum barrels from the tavern an' roll 'em out behind the pig pen. Used to have contests to see who could drink the most." He chuckled fondly, "She always won…but she left Tortuga when she was eight an' I was twelve. Stowed away on a merchant ship, so she did. I only saw 'er a few more times in Tortuga. She was crewin' the Goresail an' was a well-known pirate. She carried a broadsword like…well, like th' one Cap'n Fletcher's got!" He indicated the sword Paul wore.

Jones took this time to point out, "That is Bree's sword…" He said this with unmasked hostility.

Paul looked taken aback. He unsheathed the sword, looking at it. All eyes were on him. He looked up, meeting Jones' gaze and saying, "This…this was my sword when I was a young man."

Jones felt his mouth go dry. He thought back to long ago. He had once challenged Bree to a fencing match. He had complimented her sword. What was it Bree had said?

"It was my father's."

Paul continued, "I…I was the captain o' the Bloodsail in my younger, wilder days. I gave th' sword to me wife, Mary, who was livin' at Tortuga, as a promise that I would return to 'er. Then I was away for a few years. I came back to Tortuga, only to find that she was dead. An' the sword was gone."

Jones found his tongue, asking in a hoarse whisper, "Did yer wife have a child afore ye left?"

Paul's eyes widened, "Aye…a girl."

Jack and Will exchanged glances. Then they looked back to Jones, who was slack-jawed. "What was 'er name?"

Paul shrugged, "I left afore Mary named 'er. Why?"

Jones leaned on the rail. Paul had captained the Bloodsail, had a daughter, left a broadsword…he was Bree's father.

A sarcastically humorous thought entered unbidden into his mind. An' my father-in-law!

Jack was the one who explained everything to Paul, "Er…mate, I believe Bree is…well, I believe she's that unnamed daughter, savvy?"

Paul's facial expression now mimicked Jones'. Disbelief was in his eyes, "Surely ye're mistaken, mate."

Now both sea captains reflected on the sudden knowledge that they were kin. It might have been comical. In fact, it was.

The awkward silence that followed was broken by Gibbs' voice as he called out to Jack, "Cap'n! I found it! Funniest thing, too! It was at the bottom o' the last empty water barrel. Wonder 'ow it got there!"

Gibbs stopped as he saw the faces of Jones and Paul. He whispered to Jack, "Er…bad time?"

Jack took the object from his hands and patted him on the back heartily, "No, 'tis fine. I think ye just solved somethin' for us, too."

Clearing his throat, Jack addressed the gathered group, "Mates…we've found our heading."

Everyone turned to Jack, confusion evident. Elizabeth spoke, "What do you mean, Jack? We don't even know where we're going."

Jack nodded, "We do now, luv. Now, Captain Jones, ye haven't come across me luverly compass afore, now have ye?"

Jones took the proffered compass and flipped it open. He sneered scornfully, "It don't point north. Shouldn't 'ave put it past ye, Sparrow."

Jack laughed, "Aha…I've 'ad to explain this countless times. It doesn't point north…but it points somewhere, savvy?" He nodded to Elizabeth, "Why don't ye tell 'im, luv?"

Elizabeth smiled, "Jack…I'm proud of you…" Then she addressed Jones, "The compass points to the thing you want most. And I believe we all know exactly what you want most in the world, am I not right, Captain?"

Jones looked down at the compass. The needle was pointing in a solid direction.

"Compasses, parrots…I could swear ye were born with all yer gimmicks mastered, Sparrow," Jones said with a growl, but he felt hope rising in him.

Jack pressed his hands together, nodding, "Aye, well, I think me father was a clergyman, once."

Will smiled, speaking to Gibbs, "Well, I suppose we have a direction now, aye?"

Gibbs' face broke into a broad smile, "Aye, lad, that we do!" And with that, he set about giving orders to the crew. They had a direction.

Jones certainly knew what he wanted most. He and Bree were very similar in that way.