Chapter 14
Authors Note: I wanted this to be one of the better chapters, where small motions that are passed down to Will. Gestures and facial expressions that will later remind Jack of dear Bootstrap.
Keep that in mind, as you read, I tried my best to bring young Will into this to establish a correlation between the two men. I don't know how well I succeeded, but hopefully Jack's insight helped.
Authors Note 2: A lot of you might remember the mutiny scene from Midnight Revenge, but I changed some of it around. I just have to go to Midnight Rescue and fix grammar and stuff now that I understand. I'll rectify things soon, promise. And thank you JackFan2 for helping me with all of this. For introducing me around and all the encouragement!
Barbossa still couldn't believe that Jack Sparrow had managed to charm his way into Captain-hood! He'd always known there was something to be wary of in the boy. His suspicions had been quelled for awhile when the whelp had shown no desire to be raised in rank, but now it was made clear that it had been just another part of his plan.
The potion he'd slipped to the Captain seemed to have tragically backfired. Vinehbalt had put the annoying kid in charge! The best first-mate he'd ever had, all the years of being second-rate... Barbossa spit into the ocean and cursed Vinehbalt's name.
Barbossa cursed the gentleman's ship, for if they hadn't looted ithis plan would never have taken form. Barbossa thought he'd struck gold with the vials of chemicals and potions.
The crew onboard were only concerned with coin and jewels, they had no use for what they thought was perfume. Barbossa could tell the difference, and while he did have a son, the trunk had more use to him than it ever would for Turak.
He damned the fates for the hundredth time, his plan had been meticulously planned. He'd had several talks with Vinehbalt certain the captain understood what Barbossa wanted, deserved.
"We have a direct route, don't we." Barbossa stood steadily and regarded Jack calmly.
"Why would you be asking," Jack replied pretending to be preoccupied with maneuvering through the strait. He hadn't told anyone of their course, to the crew he'd made it seem as if they were wandering, exploring sights unseen.
"Because you've a compass and have the habit of checking it every few hours."
"'Twas Vinehbalt's, been meaning to get one of my own."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere new, different, a new port of my choosing," Jack could make the conversation last forever if he had a mind too.
"I don't aim to float on this godforsaken ocean forever, we'll need food, some pleasurable company, rum." Barbossa wouldn't back down either, Jack knew, and that made things all the more interesting. "As crew we'll be wanting to know where we're going and when we'll be there."
"And you'll be finding out soon," Jack paused, "unless someone foolish attacks or if the Navy catches up with us... then we'll not have to worry about it anymore, eh?"
"If I die, I'll want to know what I'm dying for..." Jack smiled as Barbossa manipulated the conversation to his prior question.
"If you're dead there's no more thinking to be done, aye?" Jack snapped the compass shut.
"I don't want to be led on a fool's chase."
"Then it's a good thing I'm not a fool."
"Jack. . ."
"Where we're going no one has to worry about 'til we get there. Once we're there you'll remember how we got there so no further questions need be asked. But in order for us to be getting there you'll have to trust me else you'll never find out where we're going, savvy?"
"Which still leaves us with the problem of sailing to a destination only you know, with only your word that you'll not get us killed in the meantime."
"Ah, but if you trusted me you'd not be worrying about me leading you to impending death, and you'd be willing to follow me. You wouldn't have reason to doubt my word. A crew helps and trusts their Captain, as part of my crew I expect you to offer that loyalty."
"If I knew the coordinates I'd be able to help you a bit more than I am now, Captain." Barbossa didn't bother to hide the animosity he had toward Jack and the word Captain together in one sentence.
"That's why I'm at the wheel from morning to night. I'll get us there, no worries. Can you put your trust in me or can you not? Simple question, actions speak louder than any words."
"You're the Captain," Barbossa's eyes were downcast to hide his frustration and hatred, but Jack knew he had won this round. And, as was ever the case, he knew Barbossa would make him pay for it later.
* * *
Later, standing above decks with the crew surrounding him he knew that he should have stuck to his instincts. The crew began asking questions and Jack's confident evasivness hadn't placated them. He had told them the course set and what he hoped to find. He'd known Barbossa was a scurvy hell-dog, but Jack hadn't seen the absolute evil in the man.
Jack would never have led a mutiny, it went against his honor. Apparently, Barbossa didn't share the same moral and ethics.
"But he's Captain! We cant. . ."
"He's a black-hearted scoundrel, he'll do as he wants," Jack interrupted before Bootstrap risked his life any further.
"Barbossa, you bloody coward!" Gibbs exclaimed in outrage.
Jack stared at Gibbs in frustration speaking again to draw Barbossa's wrath, he was getting damned tired of drawing ire onto himself, it never ended well. "It's my ship... Hector... you think to take her from me?"
"Not another word, Jack," Barbossa growled as he heard his name, "The Pearl is mine as the treasure will be."
"I'll see you rot in hell," Jack snarled, he regretted ever giving the ships real name. The sound of it in Barbossa's long drawl turned his stomach.
"You're a fool. You gave us the bearings, showed us the map, what need have we of you?" Barbossa smirked, "I always was the better Captain."
"Barbossa!" William elbowed his way to Jack's side and then stood in front of him as if shielding him from harm, "we cant maroon him! T'isnt right, he didn't do anything that warrants a mutiny!"
"You're relatively new to the ship, Bootstrap, so I'll be forgetting the transgression, but speak out again and I'll be sure you never speak another word again."
"New to the ship," William said incredulously, "only compared to you, you worthless bastard."
"Aye. Don't do anything... stupid, mate." Jack's eyes glittered with hidden meaning as he firmly pushed him back into the crowd.
William stared at him a moment before understanding dawned on his features. Jack didn't know why, there would be no escape this time, but he had to make Will back down somehow. William fell silent, but from the way he clutched his pistol Jack knew he was itching to use it.
"That's the wisest decision you've made the entire time." Barbossa looked down at Jack disdainfully.
He'd never liked the boy and he would finally get his due. A small island was in the distance, Jack always had went on about how they'd retire rich as kings to an island of their own. An idea dawned. . .
"Look to the horizon, Captain, and you'll see your new home. You can be it's governor as you always wanted," he smiled satisfied with the idea.
"Actually-" Jack protested, it had been the men on their islands never him. Jack would have stayed on the Pearl until death called him home. With his dying breath he had hoped to be cast into the depths of the ocean forever.
"We're all civilized men, are we not," Barbossa smiled and the monkey clapped itshands mockingly. Jack hated that animal, he'd rip the creature's head from its body if it was the last thing he did. "Here be a pistol, one shot, mind you. Take good care of it, it'll be your only friend."
"Make him walk the plank!" Jack heard the voice from far-away, the whole thing seemed so surreal. These were men he'd trusted, had protected, treated fairly, for them to throw their lot in with Barbossa...
"Nay. Fire him from the cannons! Aim for the trees." The men laughed perversely. Will made a move to load the pistol but thankfully Gibbs intervened.
"I rather like the first idea myself." Barbossa was already taking charge, Jack thought with a snort. "Walk the plank, Jack."
"Rot in hell, Barbossa." If he was to be marooned he'd damn well go down trying. Humor had always been his friend, but a part of him still tried to deny the horror of this situation.
"The plank or the cannon, it's your choice." Barbossa crossed his arms, either choice would bring the desired result. He was finally in charge, just as it should be.
Jack stared at the island. White sand, endless horizon, palm trees, and sufficient shade were the only furnishings.
Jack stepped onto a rickety board the pirates had attached to the ship. It had amused them at the time so Jack hadn't objected, and now with a mocking bow he ddove into the water gracefully after the pistol Barbossa had thrown overboard.
As he surfaced with the precious possession and blinked saltwater from his eyes he heard words that turned the blood in his veins to ice.
"Fire men," bullets stirred the air around him, two of them tore into his shoulder. The pain ripped through him and he was forced back underwater. Saltwater filled his lungs and he strangled for air.
The waves and wind blinded him, but he swam as best he could to where he hoped the shore was. The blood streaming from the wounds would no doubt attract all types of sea animals.
He tried not to move his arm too much, had the bullets entered and exited cleanly? He really hoped so it would be hell getting them out otherwise.
The waves helped him, pushing him toward the island rather then working against him. His sight cleared marginally as he reached shore. He was grateful now for the saltwater, it had purged the shot wounds and there was no longer so much blood.
A fine red line disturbed the white sand. He watched the black sails of the Pearl billow in the wind, then Barbossa waved mockingly as the ship left. Jack aimed the pistol following Barbossa's figure. It was useless, his ship and the man comanding it was out of range.
Desperation consumed him, he mentally restricted himself from shouting and screaming for them to come back. He was going to die on this godforsaken island in the middle of nowhere.
Jack tore the sleeve from his shirt to inspect the damage. The wounds were clean, the bullet's had passed through his arm. He tied a tourniquet around his arm using his good hand and his teeth. It would have to do for now.
He couldn't think anymore, he needed to sleep and let his body heal. The sand seemed to drag him down and the sun bore on and through him relentlessly. He collapsed under the nearest palm tree's shade and closed his eyes, the throbbing in his head ceased and he fell into a restless sleep.
Authors Note 3: I've decided to make his story to Elizabeth just that. Another story. He already has the turtle myth and the cannibal story going around, why not make a less hard to believe one for the ladies? Only he would know the truth of the horrors that he'll face. It's Jack's demons to contend with and he'll beat them by his own doing and not let anyone know of what it's taken from him. Thank you all for your comments and advice!