CHAPTER SEVEN: PARLEY

There was another blast, a few moments' silence, and then a cannonball tore through the wall of the cell adjacent to Jack's. The prisoners within stared a few seconds, bewildered by their sudden stroke of good fortune. This shock didn't last long, and after a few seconds, they scrambled for their exit.

Jack groaned. So close...

"My sympathies, friend," one of the others said as he departed. "You've no manner of luck at all."

Jack sat for about a half an hour, wallowing in self-pity. How had it come to this? Where had all this bad luck come from?

It appeared that a brief interlude was occurring in the battle, for the smoke was rising enough that a bit of moonlight was streaming into Jack's cell. The light cheered him up a bit, and, when he saw that the dog was still there, he decided he was going to be master of his own bloody destiny and get out of here.

The bone was lying near enough that he could pick it up. He stuck his hand out of the cell and started waving it at the beast. "Well," he told it in a friendly tone, "it's just you and me now, I guess. You and ol' Jack." He motioned at it with the bone. "Come on, just come and get the bone, that's right..."

The dog stopped just a few inches short. "Come on, come on," Jack muttered, frustrated, "you slimy, mangy cur, you..."

There was a loud clattering from upstairs, and the dog decided to turn and run, tail wagging behind it.

"No, no, no, come back, I didn't mean it!" Jack yelled desperately, but to no avail. He sighed and sat back on the floor, waiting for the source of the clangor upstairs to come to him.

The bodies of two Marines came crashing down the stairs, followed by two angry-looking men whom Jack recognized as old friends. "This ain't the armory!" cried the first one, short and bearded, to his companion, a black man in dreadlocks. The latter cast his gaze around and spotted Jack. A cruel grin formed on his face. "Well, well. Look what we have here, Twigg."

Jack gave a sort of wave. "Twigg, Koehler."

"Jack Sparrow," Koehler leered, and spat on the ground.

"Last time I saw you," Twigg said, also smiling, "you was sittin' on a deserted island, shrinkin' into the distance." He turned to Koehler. "His fortunes aren't improved much."

"Worry about you own fortunes, gentlemen," Jack admonished them, a slightly dangerous gleam in his eye. "The deepest circle of hell is reserved for traitors and mutineers—"

Koehler growled, and thrust his hand through the bars for Jack's throat. To do so, it had to go through the moonlight.

That was when things got strange.

Without warning, the flesh disintegrated to nothingness, leaving behind only the bleached bones of the fingers. They wrapped around Jack's throat, cutting into the skin.

Jack gasped, "So there...is...a curse...that's...interesting..."

"You know nothing of hell," Koehler told him, and let go. He gestured at Twigg, and they left, heading, Jack supposed, for their elusive armory.

He rubbed his throat, feeling where the bones had gripped him. "That's very interesting..."

— — — —

Elizabeth fingered the medallion as Pintel and Ragetti rowed the small boat towards the black shape sitting in the harbor. This, she had figured out as she was led away by the brigands, must have been the gold Pintel had been referring to. It was, she guessed, a pirate's medallion, then, though why they should want it so much was beyond her. She was careful not to show the thing to her boatmates, at any rate.

As they approached, Elizabeth got a much better view of the ship. Oh, no, she thought, as she realized that there was now no doubt that her medallion was what they were looking for. She recognized those tattered, black sails, the figurehead of a young maiden hanging from the bow. This was the same ship she'd seen eight years ago, when she'd first met Will.

Will. She hoped he was alright.

The boat was hoisted onto the deck of the ship, and Pintel roughly pushed Elizabeth out. Pirates were scattered all across the ship, and flashes of fire and smoke were still emitting from its cannons. It was a rather frightening vessel, but then, it was owned by pirates.

A huge African man, gold studs pierced into his face, approached them. "Didn't know we was takin' on captives," he growled at Pintel and Ragetti.

"She's invoked the right of parley with Cap'n Barbossa!" Pintel replied meekly, no longer intimidating next to this hulk.

Elizabeth stepped forward, determined not to look afraid. "I am here to negotiate—"

She was cut off abruptly when the African backhanded her across the face, the impact like a blast of fire across her skin. "You will speak when spoken to!" he told her simply, as she gaped at him in disbelief.

"And ye'll do no harm to those under the protection of parley."

It was a new voice, belonging to the man who'd just grabbed the African's arm to arrest another slap. He was tall, old, with a reddish beard and long, graying hair. He wore an ornate coat, and a hat with a huge feather on top. Two pistols and a cutlass hung on his belt, and a small monkey was perched on his shoulder. Very piratey, in the classic sense, Elizabeth thought.

Whoever he was, the African obeyed him. "Aye, sir," he growled, and wrenched his arm from the other man's grip.

The new arrival smiled at Elizabeth. "My apologies, miss." He executed a slight bow. "Cap'n Hector Barbossa, at your service."

Elizabeth did not return the bow. "Captain Barbossa," she began, her voice quaking a bit from the shock of the slap she'd just taken, "I am here to negotiate a cessation of hostilities against Port Royal."

Barbossa made a puzzled face. "There're a lot of long words in there, miss, and we're not but humble pirates!" He chuckled slightly. "Now, what is it you want?" he asked, not unkindly, but there was an air of menace around him nevertheless..

He was playing with her, and Elizabeth knew that he was well aware that she knew that. She came closer, face cold, teeth clenched. "I want you to leave and never come back."

The crew around her roared with laughter. Barbossa waited for them to settle down before he spoke again. "I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request." He leaned closer, grinning. "Means no." The crew laughed again.

Elizabeth clenched her teeth harder, and, before anyone could stop her, ran to the side, took the medallion off, and held it loosely in one hand. "Very well. I'll drop it, then."

Barbossa and his crew almost reacted—almost, Elizabeth could see it in their eyes. But he quickly recovered. "Me hull's burstin' with swag, and you think that bit o' shine matters to us?" He chuckled, then glared at her. "Why?"

"It's what you've been searching for—I recognize this ship, I saw it eight years ago on the crossing from England!"

"Did ye, now?" Barbossa asked, a condescending smile in place, but Elizabeth saw Pintel give a slight wince, no doubt realizing his mistake in mentioning the gold.

She smiled internally. "Well, then," she said casually, "if it really is worth nothing, I suppose there's no point in my keeping it." She let the chain drop several inches before catching it.

The reaction was instantaneous. All the pirates leapt forward, and Ragetti and the African both cried, "No!" Elizabeth gave Barbossa a condescending smile of her own.

The captain smiled, chuckled, with a nasty look in his eye. "You have a name, missy?"

"Elizabeth—" she hesitated. It probably was best if they didn't know she was the governor's daughter. She used the first name to come to mind. "Turner. I'm a maid in the governor's household."

Barbossa looked shocked for a moment, then, for some reason, smiled. "Miss...Turner. And how did a maid come by a trinket such as this—family heirloom, perhaps?"

"I didn't steal it, if that's what you mean."

"Very well. You hand it over, we'll put you town to our rudder, and ne'er return."

Elizabeth dropped the medallion into his hand. "Now. Our bargain?"

Barbossa jerked his head at the African, who began issuing orders. "Still the guns, and stow 'em!"

Barbossa began to leave, and something occurred to Elizabeth that she really should have thought of sooner. "Wait!" she cried, rushing after him. "You have to take me to shore! According to the Code of—"

The pirate whirled around, and addressed her with rather surprising violence. "First—your return to shore was not part of our negotiation, nor our agreement, so I must do nothing! And second—you have to be a pirate for the Code to apply, and you're not. And third—the Code is more what you'd call...guidelines than actual rules." He leered. "Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Miss Turner!"

Pintel and Ragetti came up behind her, and started to drag her away to God only knew where. Elizabeth, panicked and on the verge of tears, wondered whether it would have been better to have let them have her at the mansion.