They lived like rats trapped in a cage and it was maddening. Once again Marcela had to marvel at just how long they'd been there. She wasn't certain, but it definitely felt like a lifetime. Part of her was glad that she hadn't kept track. She didn't want to know how many decades had passed for the undead crew. After what Armando had done, her feelings about him had been somewhat unsure. Of course he'd done it for her and his heart was in the right place, but what he'd done was heinous even by her standards.
Antonio had felt a great deal of guilt over his decision as well. At the time he'd felt as though telling the captain was the right choice... if only he'd known what Javier's punishment would be. If he could go back in time, Antonio would have kept his mouth shut. Unfortunately, he would have to live with it for the rest of his life. He'd wanted to protect Marcela and at the time it had seemed valid. Though, perhaps Javier had his own reasons for doing what he did. His transgression paled in comparison to Armando's punishment. Everything had seemed alright until that moment. He hadn't noticed how with each day the very core of their beings were being peeled away. Antonio had failed to realize that they were slowly losing who they were. They were all becoming monsters on the inside as they were on the outside.
It had been easier to get angry than before. Little things had begun to irritate him that when he was alive he wouldn't have batted an eye at. There was no exception to this on the ship. All of this waiting was becoming more than what they could bear. Antonio had noticed it in the form of the captain's constant humming and tapping of his cane on the deck. It was the same with the crew. They would stare listlessly for hours on end when they weren't fighting with one another. And those who didn't fight would fidget near constantly.
An air of agitation had settled thickly over the ship. Armando held no remorse over what he'd done and it seemed to make the crew fearful of what he would do next- or at least that's what Marcela hypothesized. She knew that she was certainly anxious over what he would do. She didn't understand Javier's reasoning behind throwing her overboard, but at the moment he seemed to be someone she could trust more than she could trust Armando. The curse had changed him. She was certain of that. Of course she hadn't known him well before the curse, but she found it hard to believe that any self-respecting man would put another being through torture and watch with such cruel dead eyes.
Javier's hand was salvageable. Of course it wouldn't heal, but it was still partially connected to his arm. Barros had assured them that he thought Javier would be fine. He really didn't know to be honest. He'd never had to treat dead men's wounds before this. Healing seemed to be something that was beyond their capabilities. It was all new ground even for the experienced surgeon.
Javier hadn't said a word. He wasn't quite sure what to say. He had thought his actions to be the right choice at the moment. Marcela seemed to be a threat and if the captain didn't plan to be rid of her then Javier decided that he would do it for him. But he hadn't accounted for the possibility that Marcela was genuinely there to help them. He hadn't thought of the probability that she was actually an asset to the crew, even if she could be a bit distracting at times. Javier had thought her his enemy and there they were sitting together as she changed the bandages on his wrist. It seemed futile as nothing was clean on the wrecked ship, but Barros had insisted that the wound be kept clean. Javier wasn't a surgeon, so he went with it.
"Marcela... I'm sorry," Javier said finally. The siren's fingers paused in bandaging his wound up- but only for a moment. This had taken her by surprise. An apology was not something that she was used to receiving. It was nice.
"I don't understand why you tried to kill me. But I suppose I can't fault you for being wary of me." She murmured.
"You're not angry?" Javier asked, furrowing his brow.
"What good would it do, Javier? We're trapped here. There's enough ill will on this ship as it is... and as much as I'd like to be angry with you, you've already gotten a much worse punishment than you deserve. If we are to leave this place with our collective sanity intact, then we must not fight amongst ourselves."
Marcela didn't want to admit for a moment, just a brief moment, that seeing Javier in pain brought her some small joy. she'd chalked it up to the curse and forced it out of her mind. It wasn't something she wanted to face; not while they were all stuck there together. What was this curse doing to all of them? There was so much rage and hatred everywhere. Marcela feared it would destroy them sooner or later.
Suddenly there was a loud rumbling. It shook the remnants of the ship and alarmed everyone. Darkness was replaced by a near blinding light as the rock edifice around them toppled. It was as though they'd taken a breath of fresh air. The crew all closed their eyes and reveled in the warm embrace of the sun. For the first time in thirty years, they saw the light. It was more beautiful than any of them remembered.
"Jack Sparrow has given away the compass. We are free!" Armando called followed by the uproarious cry of the crew.
Marcela knew by the look on Armando's face that vengeance was the first thing on his mind. As he took the wheel for the first time in three decades, a new sense of purpose filled them. This was far from over. No, this was only the beginning. The Silent Mary lurched forward and sailed off into the horizon. It was time to hunt a Sparrow.