DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and no one from PotC. All other characters used in the story are done so at the specific request of themselves or their creators. Therefore I can't be sued for copyright infringement blah blah blah blah blah no one but you reads these disclaimers anyway, you loser.

NOTE: Sorry this took so long, the chapter just did not want to end itself! There is a Terry Pratchett-ism and a reference to The Princess Bride in here somewhere, see if you can find them. Hope you enjoy the chapter and Barbossa's class- not quite as educational as the last one but the next chapter should make up for it. Oh, and I just thought we needed an undead sponge, I'm not really sure why. These things just happen sometimes inside my head.


Abby jolted awake suddenly, shaking and covered with sweat. She looked around with a hunted expression, saw only the cabin walls and gently rocking hammocks, and let her muscles go limp with relief. The sheep. They were gone. Only a second ago, they had been chasing her, the black dye oozing off their wool like slime, eyes reddened, crooked teeth bared, baa-ing…

"You too?" asked a quiet voice from the hammock next to hers. Abby looked over to see Becca curled up in a fetal position, her blanket tied around her neck like a cape. Abby nodded uncertainly.

"The sheep…" she began, then had to stop, shuddering.

"Mine were swarming over the sides of the ship and screaming and they didn't have any eyes," Becca said in a shaky voice. "And the pirates were chasing them, trying to catch them so they could—"

"That's awful!" Abby muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Don't tell me any more! Don't!"

"I knew I'd have nightmares," Becca said to no one in particular.

"Come up on deck with me, will you?" Abby begged the other girl. "I need to use the head."

"And you want company why?" There was a long moment of silence.

"Don't you dare laugh."

"I won't."

"I don't want the sheep to get me, okay? And I know they're not really out there but I'd just feel a little better if someone else was there to remind them of that."

When they climbed up onto the deck, the full moon was giant and luminous in the sky, and quite bright enough to banish any lingering phantoms of sheep. After they'd each taken a turn using the head and letting the cool wind soothe their strained nerves, they went back belowdecks to their hammocks. Abby curled back up under her blanket, thinking wistfully of her soft cushy pillow back home. Sleeping in a hammock was a definite improvement over the beds at the inn, but she missed pillows.

From across the cabin, there was a sleep-muffled shriek and a thud as someone fell out of their hammock.

Abby winced in sympathy. "You okay over there?" There were a few panting gasps for breath and then a weak,

"Fine. Fine. I'm fine. They're gone now." Then, in a smaller voice, "They were jumping over a fence and they wanted me to count them!"

The next morning brought a clear blue sky, light breezes, and what was probably their most unexpected class yet.

"Yes, Pirate Economics," Barbossa repeated, arms folded across his chest, the splendor of his clothing and the glitter of his many rings highlighted elegantly by the Carribean sun. "If yer fixin' ta go on the account (turn pirate), ye've got to know what ta do with yer booty, 'aven't ye?" There was a scattering of giggles and he sighed tiredly. "Not that booty. If ye can't figure out what ta do with yer arse, yer on yer own there, mates. As ye perfectly well know, I was referrin' to treasure. Loot. Valuables. Stuff ye liberate from its original owners, right? Durin' a pirate's life, a lot o' boo—a lot o' treasure is gonna find its way ta yer posession, an' if ye don' know how ta handle it, it'll flow right out o' yer hands like seawater just as quickly. There are ways, though, to make sure that if ye someday find yerself short o' funds, ye won't lose yer ship out from under ye." The grizzled pirate picked up a rolled parchment from the ground and unrolled it to reveal… a pie chart?

"Siren showed me how to make it. See, the idea is, yer money's like a pie, and if anyone goes tryin' to take a piece, ye slit their scurvy throats. And ye got ta think ahead smart like, an' don' leave any chance fer any o' it ta get wasted or tricked outta ye." He pointed his sword at the top third of the pie, labeled 'Repairs, Supplies, and Bribes.' "This 'ere comes right off the top. If the ship needs anythin', that's the first thing ye get. Only takes one quick storm ta turn a damaged mast into driftwood or turn a barely leakin' hull into a founderin' ship. 'T'aint a coincidence that shipshape means all in good condition. If ye take a ship out ta sea in any other state, ye're gamblin' with the lives of yer crew. Supplies means the basics: gunpowder, ammunition, rope, canvas, tar, hardtack, rum, water, spare planks fer emergency repairs, all those little things ye don' want ta find yerself missin' halfway across the ocean. An' ye always gotta set aside the odd 'pocketful o' silver fer passage through another pirate's territory or fer an 'arbormaster who might be convinced ta look the other way. In many places, the local folk welcome a little somethin' t'add ta their pay in return fer a safe berth or a white lie to the authorities." He moved on to the next pie slice, which was labeled 'Wenches, Revelry, Etc.' and was a little less than half the size of the previous one.

"This bit, ye ought ta spend on drinkin', partyin', pretty lasses, the finer things in life. No point in bein' a pirate if ye're gonna live like a monk. Or like nuns, in yer cases." Then he moved on to the 'Weapons and Clothes' slice. "First thing ye need 'ere is a good pistol or two an' a quality sword. Then ye'll want a fine big hat ta keep the sun out o' yer eyes, somethin' tough enough to survive storms an' battles without lookin' too much the worse fer wear, an' a coat that can do the same. 'S worth the money ta get a real gentleman's hat an' garb sometime, if ye can't find what ye need off the bodies of merchants after ye've taken their ship. Lasts longer 'n the cheap stuff the likes o' them wear," here he pointed at Pintel and Ragetti, who were dressed in their usual haphazardly assembled, slightly fraying clothing, "An' dressin' well makes ye look like a true captain. Prosperous, dangerous, 'andsome.

"But the last bit's one o' the most important," Barbossa told them, stabbing his sword point through the parchment where the remaining slice was labeled 'Jewelry and Personal Effects,' pinning it neatly to the deck. "When ye spend yer life at sea, ye've got ta carry yer personal wealth with ye without the trouble o' luggin' about chests full o' doubloons everywhere ye go. So ye turn some of it into wealth ye can wear. Big rings set with emeralds an' rubies, thick gold chains, medallions, jewel-encrusted belts, fancy daggers, gold teeth. Ever wondered why pirates 'ave so many pierced ears an' noses an' lips an' stuff? Gives ye more room on yer face ta carry yer riches, though drapin' chains through 'em is a bit ill-advised I've always thought. It's practic'ly invitin' someone to yank off 'alf an earlobe an' a nostril an' get a pretty gold chain in the bargain. But d'ye understand why jewelry is such a major part of how a pirate dresses?"

"Because even if someone steals your ship and all the stuff in it, you can still barter your jewelry for whatever you need to chase them down and get it back?" Holly suggested, eliciting a nod of approval from the former first-mate.

"And because you can carry all that stuff while still having both hands free to fight or man the sails," Angel added, thinking back to her own experiences on a pirate ship. It was very important to have your hands free.

"So, pirates don't really bury their treasure then, do they?" Summer asked him.

"What good would it do ta bury all yer money an' leave it somewhere unguarded? Closest I've ever heard to a pirate doin' that is Davy Jones' with 'is Chest. An' Davy Jones ain't exactly a pirate. 'E's somethin' differ'nt, not sure what. Wouldn't care t'ask 'im, either." There was a momentary silence. Abby had never considered that Davy Jones might not be a pirate, but he didn't exactly commandeer ships or steal gold, did he? He was just there, a semi-supernatural force.

"Why does everyone around here wear bandannas and sashes?" Koneka wondered, bringing them back to the subject of clothing.

"Well, if ye're climbin' in the riggin' or wadin' with a canoe onto a beach, ye'll probably 'ave yer hat stowed away somewhere belowdecks, so a bandanna's an 'andy way ta keep the sun from burnin' right through yer hair to yer scalp. Also, it works as an 'andkerchief if ye need one. An' sashes? Well, ye can make one out o' nearly anythin', they'll keep yer pants up if ye don't 'ave a belt, an' in a pinch ye can use 'em to blindfold or tie the hands of a captive. Or to swing from somethin', or strangle someone, or wipe up the mess if ye're sick, or tie it 'round yer 'ead if ye lose yer bandanna, though 'opefully not in that order." Barbossa made a slight face, then scratched his nose.

"Lessons time's over, whelps," Jack yelled from the helm, where he'd been very determinedly ignoring Barbossa's lecture. "Ye're workin' now! Ready about! Pay off starboard an' look sharp now! We should make landfall soon. That means ye too, ye traitorous dog! Belay that teachin' an' put yer hand to a line afore I send ye and that monkey o' yers straight to Davy Jones' Locker!"

"I'd like ta see ye try!" Barbossa snickered.

"Don't think I won't," Jack snarled as around them, the students quickly adjusted the sails, including one that did not need to be adjusted. Ragetti had to come over and correct them while the Captain and Barbossa traded venomous looks.

"Will not."

"Will too."

"Will not."

"Will too…"

"Uh… guys? You might want to come down here and look at something," Siren's voice called from belowdecks, sounding a little worried.

"What happened to the ship?" Jack demanded instantly, waving his hands at the students in a gesture to go down right away.

"It's not the ship!" was the prompt response, and the pirates all visibly relaxed. The students exchanged uncertain glances as they went down, but when they found Siren, she was just standing outside the crew's cabins, eyes wide.

"What is it?" Sarah asked in confusion. Siren pointed.

Inching across the floorboards was the sponge the monkey had stolen the previous day.

"It's… alive…" Kelsey said slowly in the subsequent silence.

"It was dead yesterday," testified Linsey, who had been the one using it.

"Maybe the monkey stashed it with the coin it stole?" Summer suggested hesitantly.

"It was dead! The coins don't bring what's already dead back to life, they make the living undead!" Grace argued.

"Are we sure it's the same sponge?" Siren asked, looking lost.

"How would a live sponge get here? By swimming to the surface, then climbing the side of the ship, then sneaking across the deck in broad daylight to get through a hatch and down here?" Kat demanded, making a rather good point.

"It was dead!" Linsey asserted once again, taking a quick step back as it neared her feet.

"Not quite," Abby said slowly, hunkering down to get a better look at it. "Sponges are… odd. They can divide themselves into more than one piece, and the separate pieces can live on indefinitely unless something happens to them. If another bit of it was alive, somewhere, then technically it wasn't entirely dead… well, it still makes no sense. Just being in contact with the coin wouldn't have caused it to become undead anyway, I mean, Will and Elizabeth both wore it and they were fine." She held out her fingers to the sponge, which rubbed against them in a friendly way. "Hmm. Hi, sponge. Whether it makes sense or not," she told the others as she gave the sponge a pat, "It appears we have an undead sponge."

"How do you know all that?"Cate demanded.

"Biology major," Abby answered with a shrug. "What should we do with this little guy?"

"It's friendly?" Nina asked hesitantly, kneeling down with Abby and offering it a finger, which it nuzzled briefly as if investigating it. Slowly the others joined them, examining and gingerly touching the creature.

"What're ye goin' on about over there?" demanded Jack, who had finally come down below to see what was happening that was so interesting.

"A reanimated sponge," Koneka told him. "Wanna see?" The circle around the sponge parted to let the pirate through.

"Hmm. Thought those could only live underwater. Well, if ye're keeping it on board, ye clean up after it, hear?" He turned away, disinterested.

"It cleans up after itself," Sarah said, then began to laugh. "That's what it's for! It's a sponge, isn't it?"

"Does this mean we don't have to swab the decks anymore?" Angel asked hopefully. "Can the sponge do it for us?" Siren paused and considered this.

"If you can find a way to get the sponge to do it efficiently, you're off, but I'm not sure how one would do that."

"It moves pretty slowly," Becca observed. "It would take forever."

"It might go faster if we chased it," Kat suggested eagerly.

"But it doesn't seem to be afraid of us." Linsey pointed out, looking down at the sponge, which was crawling over her shoe.

"Could we lure it with food maybe? What do sponges eat?" Angel wondered.

"Plankton, I think," Abby replied.

"Though now that it's undead," Tierza contributed, thinking of Barbossa and his apples, "Neither plankton nor… whatever else it is sponges like will hold any pleasure for it anymore."

"Seems fairly happy," Holly argued.

"Well, it doesn't have a brain or a central nervous system. I doubt it would notice the difference," Abby said, giving it a dubious look.

"Land ho!" someone called from above, and the sponge was promptly left to its own spongy devices as the students stampeded back on deck to get their first look at Tortuga.

"All right, now stay in groups at all times—nobody is to go off alone. Tortuga is not a place for young females to wander around unaccompanied. Try to avoid alleys and opium dens and be aware of your surroundings. Is that understood?"

The students nodded and chorused variations on the theme of "yes."

"Good. Then your first assignment is to follow either Barbossa, Gibbs, Cotton, or Marty, each of whom is going to head to a different pirate drinking hole. Once there, you get to research the causes of piracy by wandering around and seeing if you can't get any drunk pirates to talk to you about why they went on the account. Enjoy the sights, don't split up, and be back at the ship by sundown with your answers," Siren told them.

The assignment proved to be surprisingly and pleasantly educational. Quite a few pirates, as they learned when they compared stories and reasons over dinner, started out as normal sailors. Some had turned pirate when their ship was taken by pirates and they were given the option to join the company. A lot of the men they asked had been born into poverty and turned to crime because it was the only way they could move up in the world as anything other than a servant to the upper-class. While piracy was a risky career, it was vastly more profitable than any honest work they could have gotten. And the oldest occupants of the bar were almost invariably smugglers, mercenaries, and traffickers in illegal goods who moved in the same circles as pirates and in some cases, had once been pirates themselves. The pirate life was not a life for the elderly, but those who had chosen to leave it still had a heck of a lot of pirate in them, even the ones that had been doing honest work for over a decade.

"Hey, Captain, do you know the one-legged pirate with the hook and the eyepatch that sits at the back table at the Shrieking Eel Tavern?" Cate asked.

"Hm? Oh, aye, that's Bloody Pete. Still alive an' cursin', is 'e?" asked Jack, who had finished his dinner and was lying on the bench, tossing his hat in the air and catching it.

"Quite. How did he lose his leg?"

"Run in with a shark off the coast of Ecuador's what I heard. Washin' 'is foot in the saltwater after 'e'd trod on a nail, shark gets a whiff of that blood, and crunches into 'is shin, tears off the bottom of the leg so messily the whole thing's got to be amputated. Was probably really icky." The captain made a face.

"Probably… what about the hand?"

"Oh, 'e lost that one durin' a territorial feud with the Brethren of the Ivory Coast. Captured 'im an' they were intendin' to cut both off, but 'e was rescued by 'is shipmates in time. 'S a nice hook, innit?"

"The only one I've ever seen," Cate admitted, "So I don't know. What happened with the eye then?"

"Bit embarrassing, that one. Seagull droppin'," the captain replied vaguely.

"You can lose your eye from those? What had the seagull been eating, bullets?" Nina demanded incredulously.

"Well, ye see, it was 'is first day with the hook," Jack explained dryly, catching his hat with his foot and balancing it for a moment. There was a short pause and then a mixture of "eeew, that's horrible!" noises and smothered laughter.

"Bet he's glad it was his eye he scratched and not something else," Siren remarked thoughtfully. The male pirates shuddered violently at the thought, to Elizabeth and Anamaria's open amusement.

"I have to go get dessert!" Kelsey suddenly cried. "I almost forgot!" She leapt to her feet and ran to the galley, followed by Summer, with whom she'd shared the cooking duties that night. There was the brief sound of a struggle and a "No! No more for you!" before Kelsey stumbled out with a large tray of chocolate cookies, with Summer in desperate pursuit, crying, "Chocolate!"

Students and pirates alike descended on the tray of cookies with delight. Siren snatched two for herself, then leaped up to help Kelsey hold Summer back.

"You… have… no... idea… how hard it was to… get these… baked," Kelsey confided to her as they dragged the flailing fourteen-year-old inch by inch away from the table. "They kept disappearing every time I turned around. I know she ate at least half of the first batch before it was even in the oven, and I tried to keep her in my sight after that, but I know there were more on that plate when I put them all on it half an hour ago."

"Chocolate!" Summer insisted.

"Stay back! Let the other students have some," Siren admonished her.

"But… chocolate! Chocolate! Chocolate! Chocolate chocolate choc-" After a minute or so of this, Barbossa stood up, removed his sash, and gagged her with it, then tied her hands behind her head with the loose ends of it.

"Notice the demonstration o' what I explained earlier," he told the students, sitting back down and eating his cookie calmly. "One more o' the many uses of a sash. Quietin' hysterical women."

"Ghmmfnummf! Ghmmfnummf! Ghneefhh! Nnfhhm mmf!"

"Don't worry, we'll save you one," Kelsey said, patting Summer's shoulder and letting her go.

"Wnnh??!"

They finally had to leave her in the mess hall and take the cookies out onto the deck, as she kept lunging at the table regardless of the fact that she had no way to pick them up. They were in time to see the sun setting over the water. Unlike the orderly murmurr and singsong of the Port Royal fishermen and merchants, Tortuga was a raucous mix of laughter, clatter, gunshots, yells, and snatches of drunken ballads. The pirates finished their cookies and wandered off into the city to find company for the night, and the students were left on the ship to rejoice at the absence of the infernal monkey, who had also wandered off, presumably to find mischief or a lady monkey of negotiable affection. Siren advised the students to go to bed early and went belowdecks herself after untying a hysterical Summer and releasing her from the mess hall.

"Wonder what we're doing tomorrow," Abby remarked idly as she and several other students leaned on the railing and watched a drunken brawl on the docks.

"I heard Anamaria say something about borrowing her friend's boat," Koneka offered, "But we just got here, so I don't know. I guess we'll just have to wait and find out."…