(Disclaimer: don't own Pintel or Ragetti)

Paradise of the Mind

Her name was Charlotte.

Charlotte Berkley, one of the fiercest pirates to ever serve on the Black Pearl's crew, and the first woman to sail under its infamous black sails in five years. Despite her impressive reputation, she was in fact one of the crew's newest members—Gibbs had only welcomed her aboard a year ago when she'd approached him at a port in New Providence.

And at the time, she'd introduced herself as Charles Berkley.

A lifetime of dealing with sailors must have taught the lass a few things about their superstitions, because she hadn't so much as turned a head when she'd stepped onto the Pearl in her thick leather boots and loose-fitting pants. She'd further concealed herself by wearing a long, orange overcoat and stuffing her hair underneath tri-corner hat; the grime on her face had also proven to be a useful disguise. Complete with a convincingly deep voice, Charlotte Berkley had played a lad that would have even made Mary Read look suspiciously feminine. And for three months, Captain Gibbs and the rest of the crew had known her as Charles—until Pintel accidentally walked in on her while she was relieving herself down in the ship's bilges one morning.

At first, the other pirates had been nothing short of horrified—all along, their good mate Charley had been a wench! However, once the initial shock of this discovery had worn away, Gibbs had decided to let the clever girl stay; it was plain enough by then that she wasn't bad luck, and she fondly reminded him of a tough face named Anamaria. Seeing that their captain approved of her, the rest of the men soon came to more or less accept Charlotte as well. Today, her identity was only kept secret during battles as the ultimate surprise tactic, just as she had used it yesterday.

But now, the next morning, she had her brown hair down as a woman—much to Ragetti's dismay.

Feverishly scrubbing the deck on his hands and knees, the one-eyed man could already feel a knot twisting in his narrow gut. Charlotte was tending to the ratlines only a few footsteps away on his right, and his long hair hanging in his face was the only thing keeping him from gawking at her all the while. Charlotte was only a few years older than him, and Ragetti had decided long ago that she was definitely beautiful. She wasn't, however, what he would call unapproachably beautiful; that was a rank he reserved solely for Mrs. Elizabeth Turner. Rather, this dark-haired woman was only moderately beautiful, and that only made her moderately frightening to talk to.

Somehow, Ragetti thought he could handle moderate.

Beside him, Charlotte gazed up at the ropes above her and frowned. An entire section of the ratlines had been all but hacked to shreds during yesterday's battle. Her only guess was that it'd gotten in the way of a stray cannonball, but there was no evidence she could see that would support that belief. Whatever the cause for the ruin, it was moments like this that made the pirate lass wince at her position as line master—she was responsible for repairing those ropes, and from the looks of the other crewmen, she'd be working alone.

Then again…

"Marty!" she called over her shoulder just then. As the small pirate turned to answer, Ragetti quickly looked down with extreme fascination at his swab rag. Just act natural.

Marty stared up at Charlotte. "What?"

"Have we got any more rope on deck?"

The small-statured man lowered his eyes dismissingly back to his half-cleaned pistol. "Not that I be seein'," he answered flatly. "But you're welcome to go below and look for a length, Miss Berkley."

The name clearly hit a sour note with Charlotte, and her face suddenly darkened with warning. Standing with the poise of a python, she narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on the frayed ropes.

"Or you could pull some weight and get it yourself, Mr. Jacobs," she said sharply.

Now Marty was the one looking indignant. He wrinkled his bald brow, obviously disgusted by this apparent cheap shot, then huffily stood up and trudged away in search of some rope. Ragetti watched him go, then cautiously glanced over at Charlotte again. It was just the two of them by the mast now.

Swallowing nervously, the lanky young man gazed down at the wet planks in front of him, then finally building up his nerve, he turned to offer a shaky hello. But when he looked up, Charlotte was gone.

An instant later, the vague confidence on Ragetti's face was also gone. Puzzled, he sat up on his haunches and glanced around in search of the woman who'd been beside him just a second ago. Where'd she go? Even Calypso couldn't disappear that fast…

No sooner had he thought this than a dull thump was heard directly behind him. Surprised, Ragetti suddenly turned to see the end of a tattered rope lying on the deck. And then, just beyond it—

"Ahh!" he yelped in shock. It was Charlotte! She was standing right behind him!

Ragetti impulsively jerked back, nearly knocking over his bucket of water in the process. Likewise, Charlotte jumped back a bit at the sight of his silly overreaction and eyeballed him questioningly. Trying to ignore the hammering in his bony chest, Ragetti met her stare with a single terrified eye. There was no turning back now.

"Oh! …Oh, sorry!" he stammered, glancing skittishly up and down from Charlotte to the rope and holding his hands up calmingly. "Sorry."

The woman wasn't sure how to react to this strange display. "For what?" she asked oddly.

Ragetti paused, then feverishly shook his head. "…N-nuffin'!"

Towering over him, Charlotte sent the man a final unamused look and turned back to resume her work. As soon as her back was to him, Ragetti made an animated cringe. What a greeting! It was almost as painful as it'd sounded! How could he let his guard down that badly? Now she thought he was scared out of his wits of her! True, he was, but he'd had so much more confidence when she hadn't known it!

Gawking at the shards of his rapidly failing attempt, Ragetti suddenly launched into another desperate effort and stood up, splashing his grimy bucket water as he did so.

"A-actually, I—" he began, but another glare from Charlotte stopped him dead.

Now she was getting impatient. "…You what?"

Ragetti stepped back awkwardly. "…I…"

Despite himself, he anxiously looked her up and down, then managed to finish his sentence. "…I…like rope."

Charlotte blinked. "…Well so do I," she said uncomfortably.

"Aye…" The twitchy pirate grinned and bobbed his head. At least they had something in common. "It's…useful."

Charlotte just stared up at him. This was starting to send creeps down her spine. Doing her best to hide her disturbed expression, she gave Ragetti a quick farewell nod, then quickly walked past him.

Staring into space now, Ragetti continued nodding stupidly. "It's very useful…"

Ignoring him—and perhaps trying to get further away from him—Charlotte abruptly grabbed a low rung on the rope ladder and hoisted herself up onto the Pearl's rail. Unfortunately for her, this sudden move only snapped Ragetti out of his stupor and made him turn to watch her. The one-eyed whelp only hesitated for a second before he dashed after her again.

"You need help?" he asked a little too eagerly.

This, surpringly, brought a brighter light to Charlotte's eye. Caught off guard by this unexpected offer, she stopped and met Ragetti's eye just then. "Help?" she echoed. "With what?"

In less than a heartbeat, her mood had gone from scorning to welcoming. Ragetti was utterly thrilled to notice this.

"Well…th-the ropes," he said quickly, pointing back to the bit she'd pulled off with a trembling finger. "Yeh're fixin' 'em, ain't yeh?"

For a moment, Charlotte was caught in a conflict. Sure, she absolutely loathed the idea of fixing the ropes all by herself, but this bizarre exchange was starting to make her wonder just how desperate she really was for an extra hand. Taking in the sight of this long-haired beanstalk of a man, her debate soon reached a close.

"It's not that bad, really," she said quickly. With that, she looked up sharply and started climbing higher.

And before he knew it, Ragetti was panicking again.

"I wanna 'elp!" he piped, sounding nothing short of desperate. He instinctively jumped forward as he shouted, but froze when he realized his mistake. If anything, the move had been enough to make Charlotte stop, and now the woman's unamused eyes were locked onto him yet again.

Just act natural! Just act natural!

Hands fidgeting madly, Ragetti managed to swallow back the strangling lump in his throat and corrected himself as calmly as he could. "I…I mean, I…I should help!" Then he held up his jittery hands in a sincere shrug. "I broke 'em after all, didn't I?"

It was the worst thing to say.

As soon as his words were out, the disinterested look vanished from Charlotte's face. Now, her beautiful brown eyes were smoldering with an anger that would have even made Pintel look slightly cheerful. For a bone-chilling second, she glared hotly down at the cowering fellow, and then she spoke.

"You broke them?" she echoed. Ragetti could've sworn he saw smoke rising up from under her hat. When he failed to say anything else, she narrowed her burning eyes and leaned closer. "I didn't know that."

Ragetti instantly shrank back—it was the natural thing to do.

"Oh." But then, as a hopeful afterthought, he met her eye with a petrified grin and brightly added, "Well, now you do!"

--

It'd been almost fifteen hours since Pintel and the others had taken the captain of the
Prowess captive, but they had all gone to painstaking efforts to make that time feel even longer to the luckless man since then. Pirates may have been cruel, but they were also fair, and in this case, locking a Naval officer inside a filthy iron cage without a blink of light to see with was the fairest treatment they could think of—after all, the Navy had been doing the same to them for nearly a century.

And just like any pirate, the imprisoned captain was less than thrilled to hear two of his captors making their way down the steps to the brig that same morning. Even so, his uninviting glare of a greeting didn't faze Gibbs and Pintel when they entered the room; it was only fair.

Sitting motionlessly on his cell's rotting wooden bench, the already skuzzy-looking captain shifted his eyes to study Gibbs alone.

"Nice hat," he said with flat sarcasm.

Beside Gibbs, Pintel smirked and snidely replied, "Nice brig cell."

Gibbs calmly adjusted the brim of his stolen hat and motioned to the other pirate. "My first mate 'ere," he said to their prisoner, "requested that I keep you on board as a captive. But I'll be needin' a bit more convincing from you to hold to that."

"How so?" the Navy man asked dully.

The whiskered buccaneer couldn't help smiling faintly as he explained. "Well yeh see, a captain's job be to speak for the rest of 'is crew. Represent 'em, if you will. And from the looks of 'em, I'd say yeh best be learnin' to tread water in the next ten minutes."

Surprisingly, this had little impact on the prisoner. The middle-aged officer simply eyed Gibbs up and down for a moment, then sat up straighter.

"You're the captain?" he asked.

Gibbs bobbed his shoulders once in a silent laugh. "Tipped off by the fancy hat, were yeh?" he asked with his own sarcasm.

At that, the naval captain's tone suddenly turned casual and patronizing as he glanced around. "Well, I was expecting someone a little more legendary to be piloting such an infamous vessel." He turned his attention back to Gibbs and Pintel. "This is the Black Pearl now, isn't it?"

At first, both pirates only stared at him in silence. Noticing the snarkiness in the man's voice, Pintel squared his jaw and wrinkled his nose in repulsion. What did this pompous little muck rat have up his sleeve now?

After a few seconds, Gibbs traded a glance with his companion then broke the pause, however perplexed he sounded. "What's your name?" he demanded awkwardly.

"It's Captain Franklin Morgause," was the blunt reply.

That was when Pintel jumped in again. So disgusted did the first mate look as he stepped closer to the cell bars, practically shoving past his own captain in his anger. His blazing eyes were glaring straight through the prisoner when he came to a stop, just as they had when he'd first decided to kidnap the uniformed scoundrel.

"Well yeh looks an awful lot like yer name's Charles Windrick," he blasted, "ADMIRAL to the king's navy!!"

The officer sat up suddenly, finally startled. Likewise, Gibbs stepped up to gaze at his first mate with the same look he would give a witchdoctor. "Admiral?" he echoed in disbelief. He turned to the mysterious captive then. "…You two know each other?"

But the officer was staring straight at Pintel. "I don't believe I'm the person to ask," he said breathlessly.

Pintel couldn't stop himself. He'd been bottling in a grave secret ever since the battle had ended, and an infinitely graver one for the past twenty years of his sea-faring life. Now the moment of truth was dangling in front of him like a sizzling steak, and his infamous temper was more than happy to gulp down the bait.

Feeling Gibb's eyes on him, the bald first mate sneered and threw their guest, Windrick, a venomous glower. "I know 'im. Served under the bastard for a year as one of 'is new recruits." An uglier shadow appeared on his face just then. "An' so did my mate Ragetti."

Hearing this, Gibbs turned his attention back to Windrick, and sure enough, he saw a glint to realization flash in the officer's gray eyes. He and Pintel were now caught in a stare-down, as though they were drawing back on an old feud that neither one had claimed victory for. Their heated reunion lingered for a tense instant, until the kidnapped Navy man finally stood up from his bench. He was utterly seething.

"I lost everything because of you two. Everything! My position, my reputation…even my very place in society! I was reduced to nothing because of you!"

Unmoved, Pintel arched his eyebrows in mock concern. "That a fact?"

"You think they'd reward an admiral who brings pirates onto his crew?" Windrick hissed back. His voice dropped to a cold whisper then, and he leaned closer to point a condemning finger at Robert Pintel through his cell bars. "I had to change my name when word of your disappearance went out. I had to go into hiding and lead the same wretched, filth-ridden life that your ilk boasts of for nearly eight years, and all because of you and that brainless boy…and your ludicrous 'live free or perish' philosophy!"

The only reaction that the speech earned from Pintel was another snide smirk; the old pirate was glad to hear he'd left a lasting impression. "Yeh can't expect a pirate to stay put when yeh beats 'im senseless every wakin' minute," he pointed out casually.

Inside the cell, Windrick smiled knowingly. "I can if I beat him hard enough."

It was all he had to say to gain the upper hand. Pintel stopped, and the smirk immediately drained from his leathery face. In its place, a look of shock appeared, and a hurricane of horrible memories flashed through his mind. Sounds of screaming and lashes cracking over flesh, feelings of guilt and dread as he'd looked away from those hideous scenes, the smell of fresh blood…

Pintel wouldn't have stopped himself even if he could. Before he could even comprehend the horrors whirling in his head, he bared his rotten teeth in a frightening growl and threw himself at the iron bars with a clank that made his returning enemy jerk back in surprise. That bastard! That lousy, no-good, bilge-licking bastard!

His mind was spiraling madly, beyond the slightest reasonable thought, and he would have probably tried to strangle the English scoundrel through his cell bars if Gibbs hadn't intervened right then. Hurrying forward, the pirate captain shouted disapprovingly and yanked his stocky first mate back by the shoulders. Even then, Pintel was still wild-eyed and struggling to unsheathe his cutlass.

"Get a hold of yerself, mate!" Gibbs scolded him sharply. "Save your strength for something worth usin' it on!" Slowing his struggles, Pintel blinked up at his whiskered comrade in bewilderment.

Observing the chaotic little scene, Windrick regained his arrogant posture. "I see the years haven't changed him one bit."

At that moment though, Gibbs switched his dissatisfaction over to the conceited fellow. "And you save your remarks for someone who wants to hear 'em!"

Pleased with how authoritative he was beginning to sound, he then looked down at his gradually recovering friend. "What'll it be for 'im, Pintel? The plank or a good old fashioned maroonin'?" When Pintel failed to answer, Gibbs quickly added, "Or both?"

Just then, Windrick decided to make another remark. "It's a foolish resort either way. Killing me won't do you any good."

In turn, Gibbs decided that he was someone who wanted to hear those remarks. He loosened his restraining grip on Pintel and turned with distaste to the prisoner. "And how be that?"

Windrick smiled and stepped closer to the bars. He had the captain's attention now. "I notice you never asked how I came to know of this ship."

Gibbs shrugged warily. "You said the Pearl was legendary." He hesitated then, curious. "…How did you find out about her?"

Windrick's smile became even smugger. "My crew and I picked up a pirate not one week ago, sailing northeast from Jamaica. He was traveling alone in a dingy, and his colors were quite worthy of remembering. A white skull wearing a bandanna, looking to the east…and a red sparrow."

Gibbs and Pintel both froze. A white skull and a red sparrow. The same signature symbols that they had each sailed under for a year at least. The symbols of the very man that they'd spent the last five years direly searching for!

The Pearl's whiskered old captain couldn't help but drop his jaw at this realization. "Jack Sparrow?" he asked Windrick, flabbergasted.

"Captain Sparrow, as he preferred."

The mad light had left Pintel's face at that, and after sharing a dumfounded look with him, Gibbs hurried to regain his composure. "W-what did you do with him? Did he tell yeh anything?"

"Only about his beloved ship," Windrick answered smoothly. "He said that he hadn't seen it in five years. Apparently, something far more important was pointing him in a different direction." He leaned against his bars then to move on in his cool retelling. "We had Sparrow in our custody for three days. On the fourth morning, we found his cell empty with a bone sticking out of the lock, and a rather nasty chink in our rudder chain. We'd taken the liberty to confiscate his effects shortly after arresting him, and kept them stored in the hold; those were missing as well."

He stood up then and calmly paced in his cell. "However, there was one small item that he had failed to reclaim in his escape. An item that I had seen fit to carry myself." He stopped and looked at Gibbs and Pintel, driving his words home. "A compass."

When his two stunned listeners failed to give him a response, the officer casually reached into his muck-stained jacket and retrieved that very same item for them so see. That wooden black case, that polished onyx dome, that signature octagon shape… there wasn't a doubt in either onlooker's mind that it was the compass that the Black Pearl's crew had come to know so well over countless voyages—Jack Sparrow's compass! The minute of awe lingered for both the captain and first mate, but it was Pintel to snapped out of the trance first.

"Wot're you tryin' t'pull on us?" he demanded hotly.

Windrick never hesitated. "A bargain." He held the device out tantalizingly. "Release me from your ship, and Sparrow's compass will be yours. Those are my only terms."

No sooner had he said this than Pintel stepped forward and drew his pistol. The stocky old sailor had made up his mind about the Navy man a long time ago, and the only bargain he cared to make was placing the compass in Gibbs's hand in exchange for a fat, round shot in Windrick's head. Seeming to hesitantly agree, Gibbs also came forward.

"They're pretty steep terms, at best," he commented reasonably. He sent Pintel's pistol a sheepish glance. "Even steeper, considering your bein' on a pirate ship and all."

But Windrick didn't falter. "So you would kill me for being out of my element?" He frowned haughtily. "Are you so sure you have no further need of me?"

Despite himself, Gibbs faltered at this. As pride-swollen as the officer was, he made a good argument. What use could a Naval officer behind their own lines be in the future? The husky pirate would need to plan ahead for a situation that would require Windrick's experience and skill. Plan ahead. That was what all good captains would do. Even Jack Sparrow planned ahead.

But even as the thought of his lost-lost comrade flashed in his mind, Gibbs was plagued by doubts. What right did he have to trust this man? He'd tried to sink their ship less than a day ago! Who knew what he was capable of doing when he was actually on board?

It was a heavy decision to make—the heaviest one that Captain Gibbs had ever been faced with in his unconfident reign—and just as he opened his mouth to speak, he gave in to the weight of it. Fumbling for a solution, he turned to his only resort: Pintel.

"What'll it be, Pintel?" he asked again, defeated.

It took a while for Pintel to answer him. The stocky sailor glared at his old enemy again, and as he took in the sight of that sleazy, big-wigged commander inside that grimy brig, a brilliant idea came to him. Windrick was already experiencing more of the pirate life than he'd ever cared to…but how much more of it would he be able to handle?

Beaming nastily, Pintel finally answered Gibbs. "I says we make 'im part of the crew!"

Gibbs grinned just as widely at this decision and nodded at Windrick. "Aye! Part of the crew!"

A second later though, the meaning of these words suddenly dawned on him, and he whipped his head around to gawk at Pintel with bug-eyed horror. "The crew?!"

"Swabbin' decks, castin' lines," Pintel pointed out sadistically.

"And drinkin' rum?" Gibbs jumped in then. "It's no dafter than makin' him captain!" His voice dropped to a nervous whisper after that and he stepped further back from the cell with Pintel. "He's an enemy with a grudge taller than the mast. It's not wise t'be lettin' him loose on our grounds. What can be gained from it?"

Pintel grinned. "Payback! You an' I've bof' 'ad more'n our share of Navy life an' jumped ship from it! Now it's his turn to live a pirate's life!"

Gibbs wrinkled his face awkwardly. "…And what do we go about doin' if he should jump our ship?"

An even viler gleam appeared on his first mate's face. "He won't. 'Cause we knows t'watch out for it."

Gibbs looked away for a moment, definitely considering this. After a quick look at Windrick, he turned back to Pintel.

"Part of the crew, says yeh?" He tilted his head up in thought, and immediately turned cheerful. "A moral booster to end all, says I."

The pair shared grins of wicked triumph, then calmly walked back up to the bars of Windrick's cell. Without a word, Pintel accepted the keys as Gibbs held them out, and deftly unlocked the door to the rusted cage. With that, he sharply yanked the door open and aimed his gun straight at Windrick, keeping him in line. Beside him, Gibbs held out an expectant hand, and after a scowling pause, their guest reluctantly handed over the coveted compass. Hooking the recovered tool onto his belt, Gibbs lifted his head to give the officer a much friendlier greeting.

"Welcome to the crew, former captain!"

--

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More to come soon. What does everyone think of this story so far? I've hardly got any reviews for it, and I'm just curious.

-KRRouse