DISCLAIMER: I have no claim whatsoever to any of the brilliant POTC characters; I am grateful to be sitting at a banquet table set by truly talented storytellers.
Calypso's Quarry
At the foot of the stone steps, Barbossa picked up a lantern and lit it from the rushlight. He followed me warily as we walked along the dark passage. "Stale, heavy air," he remarked.
"It's better a bit further along, near the air shaft. We'll be alright," I answered, trying to show more confidence than I felt. After several minutes, we came to a second set of steps that spiralled deeper into the earth. I started down slowly, feeling each step with my foot.
"How far down does it lead?" Barbossa asked.
"I'm not sure, but at the end of the last tunnel, there's a round chamber with a tidal pool. Beyond that is a passage with stone stairs running down perhaps another twenty feet. They lead to an opening through the cliff face. At low tide, it's about five feet above the beach," I replied.
Barbossa frowned, calculating. "Between high tide an' the storm swell, the seas tonight be runnin' far higher than that," he muttered; then he smiled. "If he's gone that way, he's trapped," he said grimly, his eyes glinting with triumph. "The way through the cliff must be underwater by now; there be no escape beyond the chamber."
We had walked along the downward sloping passage to the air shaft, but now we stopped. At our feet lay a large pool of dark water. The shaft had been dug many feet deeper than the passage, in order to collect water; but the smaller conduits meant to drain it had been blocked for many years, and the surface of the pool looked as black and still as oil.
"We can walk through the water if we keep to the left," I told him. "There's a ledge on that side only about a foot underwater. Hold fast to the rungs in the wall." We began to edge our way cautiously through the water. Often when I reached for a rung, my sabre's hilt would scrape and catch on the rough wall of the tunnel, nearly causing me to lose my footing.
At about the midpoint, Barbossa suddenly stopped and raised the lantern. I knew what he was looking at: high on the damp wall was an ancient mosaic made from sea shells and tiny stones. Not larger than one foot square, it showed blue and purple wave-like patterns with a white crab in the foreground. "Ye told me naught about this," he said, squinting at the mosaic.
"What about it? They're everywhere along here. When we were children, Jack and I would play at hunting for treasure and we called these our 'maps'. Some are crabs, some are little crowns, and some . . ." my voice trailed off as realisation dawned. "It's a sign of Calypso, isn't it?"
He nodded. "Yer father never told ye this leads to Calypso's Quarry? He let ye run wild in the goddess' abode?" he growled, raising his eyebrows.
"Well, . . . no. Actually, I was strictly forbidden to be here," I admitted, embarrassed.
His eyes glinted at me in the flickering light. "Sparrow's influence again," he muttered, "As usual."
I made no reply. As we started forward again, I used my elbow to push the hilt of my sabre out of the way; but to my horror, this pressure caused the worn, dry leather of the sword frog to crack and split. The sabre slipped off in an instant, and my weapon disappeared into the pool with a soft 'plunk'. I gasped and reached out towards the water, but Barbossa seized me with one hand and forced me back against the wall.
"Ye can stop right there," he ordered me. "Let it go. And take it as a sign ye should keep out o' this fight. Turn back; I told ye I didn't want ye mixed up in it."
"And I told you that my place is at your side. You don't know whether I might be able to help." But my words belied the growing anxiety that was gnawing at my stomach. Passing through this shadowy realm was increasing my dread of whatever magic Hanibal might use to destroy us, and the loss of my sword seemed an evil portent that froze my blood even as I tried to brazen it out.
"At least give me back my scimitar," I demanded. He stopped and looked at me with amused disbelief.
"D' ye know me, missy?" he asked. "An' ye want me t' give back something I took from ye?" He shook his head. "We'll not dispute it further; I don't need yer help an' I'll not have ye killed. Now I'm tellin' ye t' let me do this alone." But I kept an obstinate silence and continued to walk with him.
Once we had waded past the pool, I could keep quiet no longer. "Please wait," I said to my companion, "I don't think you understand the danger."
"T'is you whose understanding is lackin'," he replied irritably, returning to our old argument. "Why won't ye turn round and go back? Leave this matter t' me."
"Did you see Captain Teague shoot Hanibal?" I retorted. "Those shots should have been fatal. Tia Dalma told me Hanibal was seeking powers beyond those of mortal men. I know only one protection that could have saved him from those shots, and that's the Basilikon."
"An' what might that be?" asked Barbossa, the yellow flame of the lantern mirrored in his eyes.
"The Basilikon of King Stephan - an amulet that protects the wearer from cold steel, stabbing and shooting. I believe my father had it in his possession until just before his murder, and I think Hanibal may have it now, although I haven't seen it. It would mean that Teague couldn't kill him; nor could you," I added. My fingers felt cold as ice, but it was from fear, not the chilly damp of the tunnel.
Barbossa looked unimpressed. "Were ye not present at the War Against Piracy? Think ye that Hanibal's magic is stronger than that of Davy Jones?"
It was clear that he was unmoved by my arguments, but I had one thing more to tell him. "Hanibal has the spancel," I said, "and that frightens me most because I don't know its powers – she didn't really explain everything. I know I'm supposed to be the only one to use it, but –"
"Who told ye that?" he interrupted.
"Tia Dalma," I replied.
He sighed. "Eldritch creatures – there's always a twist. Well, soon we'll find out. And don't forget, the cavern belongs t' her." He started to go forward, but I held him back once more.
"Please," I said. "You're no fool, playing long odds for little gain. I know Hanibal wronged you, but there must be many others since then who have tried to destroy you. And there's no gold in it for you, because that's been promised to King George." Barbossa was silent.
"Why, then, are you so set on a venture that could prove fatal?" I sensed his reply would not be flattering, but I had to know where he stood, and I could not read the expression in his hooded eyes. There was a silence; then he shrugged and gave me his answer.
"Because t'is part of me accord with Tia Dalma," he said. "I agreed t' do three things fer her: fetch Sparrow back from hell, see that the Brethren unbound her, an' see that Hanibal Bitter paid fer his transgressions. She didn't take kindly t' havin' him turn her waters into a death trap fer mariners, an' she seems t' want t' help ye."
He reached out to touch my cheek, but I pulled back, an awful suspicion taking hold of me. "And everything else?" I asked him. "What we did...what you said to me...is it all meant to appease Tia Dalma? Did it mean nothing else to you?"
For a moment, he stared deeply into my eyes, his gaze reflecting some intense emotion, whether pity or longing I could not tell. I waited in silence, with an aching heart. At last, he seemed to reach a decision, and he turned his face away. When he looked at me once more, his expression had hardened, and he regarded me with the cold-eyed detachment of a gambler choosing the cards he will play.
"What did ye think it meant?" he replied with a short laugh. Then, in a harsh voice, he added, "Now will ye keep out of me way an' let me finish this alone?" He pushed me aside, and, taking the lantern with him, walked rapidly through the tunnel, leaving me in the dark listening to the echo of his departing footsteps.
His words shocked me so much that I could hardly apprehend them. The man who had lovingly taken charge of my heart, who had kept the pins from my hair as mementos, was intent only on fulfilling a bargain? Yet he had as much as admitted that our intimacies on the Pearl and his affectionate words to me had been but lies of convenience for him.
I sat in absolute darkness on the cold, rocky floor of the tunnel, unable to rise to my feet or take a step in any direction. It seemed as though I might sit there until the Day of Judgment, so bereft of purpose was I. And yet, despite my disappointment, I was still in terrible fear of anything harming Barbossa. I agonised over the irony of a situation I had worked so hard to bring about and yet now so bitterly repented. In desperation, I called out softly to Calypso, "Please, Tia Dalma, if you can hear me, please help me!"
At first there was no response, but after a few moments, I heard a soft, scrabbling sound, as if a crab had scuttled by in the blackness. Although I could see nothing, I heard Tia Dalma's voice echo around me.
"I am wit' yuh, dear wan," she said. "Tell me what yuh wish for. To mek yuh way out of me quarry? To leave him, an' forget him ever break yuh heart?"
"Not to leave him," I said, fighting down the pain, "but to help him. Please - all my instincts tell me there's some great evil nearby, waiting to strike, and I would rather die than have it conquer him. Help me protect him if I can."
"Wit' no thought for yuh own happiness? Den go to him now! Him kyan not defeat Hanibal alone!"
"But I can't see in the dark," I protested miserably, "and I've lost my sword!" I felt powerless and useless to anyone, let alone Barbossa.
"True, but yuh have everyt'ing yuh need to help him," she replied, "an' yuh friend kyan see in de dark."
Startled, I looked around to see what she meant, and heard a small, chattering voice almost at my elbow. The ghostly form of Jack the monkey emerged from the gloom, his fur giving off a faint, unearthly glow. I heard Tia Dalma chuckle. "I t'ink perhaps de curse still wearin' off of him fur."
"Thank you, Tia Dalma," I said. "Jack, Jack! Take me to him! Quick!" Barbossa's spectral monkey scampered away through the tunnel and I hurried after him.
As I followed Jack along the unlit passages, thoughts of Hanibal's deeds haunted me. All manner of images formed in my mind's eye, and rose up before me in the dark: my father's corpse, my murdered aunt, young Barbossa facing execution, the poor, burned Martin family. I thought of the suffering of Pencarren's townsfolk, and the Judge's other gruesome boasts to me.
As I neared the chamber, I could hear the clash of weapons and other sounds that told of a swordfight. Whenever these would pause, I could hear Hanibal speaking. Only my lack of a sword kept me from rushing headlong into his presence. But for once, I determined to govern myself as Barbossa would have advised, and I approached stealthily, trying to discover the state of the confrontation taking place.
The walls of the chamber were very high, soaring upwards into complete darkness. I felt the same thrill of nervous fear as in the past when, venturing under this lofty shadow-land as a child, I would imagine all manner of unseen presences poised above me. Now I saw that all round the tidal pool, various cargos had been piled into a jagged landscape of tall, precarious peaks. A jumble of boxes, crates, sacks and barrels spilled forth a measureless bounty of wares: silks, gold bars, coins, plate, jewellery and personal effects (the owners of which I judged to be at the bottom of the waters off Pencarren's cliffs).
I made my way carefully through the twisting narrow spaces between Hanibal's spoils, trying to follow the sound of his voice, which echoed around me, making it difficult to discern his words. At last, I stopped at the sound of a footstep not five feet away, just on the other side of a disorderly pile of crates and other containers.
". . . and you tried to make a fool of me at Launceston," Hanibal was saying, "but tonight I shall settle with you. Vulgars like you never do know their place."
This was followed by the sound of more fighting, and I quickly sought a better vantage point whence I could see the duel. I found several tall bolts of silk propped against a stack of crates, and was able to peer between them at the two combatants.
I could see Hanibal lunge forward aggressively, making a series of attacks, but Barbossa, a cunning and experienced opponent, was defending himself adeptly, assessing Hanibal's strengths and weaknesses. Yet, as I watched, the ferocity and daring of Hanibal's onslaught increased, and he began to drive Barbossa back. Strutting, and unconcerned with protecting himself, he suddenly moved in and struck Barbossa lightly, delivering a few slight wounds as one might hurl an insult. Avoiding Barbossa's attack, he swiftly moved away and prepared to strike again.
"Age is beginning to slow you, old man," he sneered.
"Ye think ye can best me? Come on!" exclaimed Barbossa as he lunged, and his attack was fast and dangerous, each cut and thrust steadily forcing Hanibal to retreat. Avoiding a slashing blow, Hanibal quickly circled, and the two squared off again.
"Where's my niece?" Hanibal demanded in mocking tones. He seemed to be enjoying the fight, as though he knew he could finish his opponent whenever he chose.
"Far away," Barbossa retorted.
"Already bolted with handsome Jack?" Hanibal grinned. "And she is a bolter, you know. Just like your father—"
Suddenly Barbossa lashed out at Hanibal with great violence, spurred on by his anger. He drove Hanibal back with deadly, superior ability, but once more the Judge eluded the final swipe and there was another pause as the two fighters eyed each other, both breathing heavily. Then Hanibal laughed.
"You won't win this — I fear neither cold steel, stabbing, nor shooting!"
"An' I don't fear you!" Barbossa rejoined angrily, as he drove forward again to attack.
My blood had run cold upon hearing the identical words that Jack had used to describe the protection of the Basilikon. Why had I not seen it about my uncle's neck when he confronted me in the library?
And at that moment, just as Rufus had predicted, Hanibal's arrogance triumphed over him, and showed me what I needed to see.
Eager to show off the powers he now possessed, Hanibal exultantly pulled the spancel from his waistcoat pocket. As he did so, the corner of the waistcoat was lifted up for a moment - and there it was. Hooked onto his belt was a silver chatelaine, and dangling from it (marvel of marvels!), a small gold coin with a notched edge and hole in the centre, through which passed a slender chain.
From Jack's description, I knew to a certainty that I was looking upon the fabled Basilikon, and that its spell was protecting Hanibal; like Teague, Barbossa would be unable to kill him. This was how my uncle intended to win; fearing nothing for his own life, he would draw out his swordplay with Barbossa, tormenting him as a cat would toy with a mouse, indulging his own sadistic pleasure as he wore down his opponent's strength, and eventually moving in for an easy kill.
But before I could move, to my horror, Hanibal tossed the spancel into the air with some muttered words. The spancel fluttered above both men for a moment, and then began to transform itself into the fantastic likeness of a gigantic eel, needle-nosed and dagger-toothed, with a fearsome jaw and skin dappled with flecks of green and gold. This apparition rippled through the air as if swimming; round and round it travelled, over the heads of the fighters.
If Barbossa was shaken by this turn of events, he didn't show it. He slashed at the eel as it swam above him, and cut the monster in two. Hanibal laughed as one half grew a new head and the other a new tail and both continued to swim and undulate through the air.
In my hiding place, I sank to my knees in fright. Had Tia Dalma betrayed my trust in her, by not explaining the spancel's power to me? Would her mysterious and changeable nature be the ruin of Barbossa? If I had had my weapon, I could have joined the fight.
And if I had known what it could do, I would have cast the spancel into the ocean long before we reached Cornwall.
Now I was faced with the certain loss of a man I adored, and try as I might, I could not devise any plan to stop it.
Next: Chapter 29 - A Game of Hearts - In which an important question is posed.
