Chapter XXXVII: My Ship Has Sails That Are Made Of…Cloth
Now that the earth had stopped shaking and the screeching hubbub had died down, merchant-folk and townspeople were cautiously returning to their businesses. Will Turner wandered the length of the section of docks reserved for ships on the market. From little fishermen's tugs to brigantines, they were all dwarfed by the mighty vision of The Endeavour several yards along.
A wigged official made a haughty smirk and stood in his path. "May I help you, sir?"
Will did his best to stay polite, but did not feel like being stepped on. "Perhaps you can. I have a friend who is interested in purchasing a ship for a more or less immediate voyage."
Jade slunk behind Will down the thrumming streets and along the docks having thus far gone an entire five minutes without a single word escaping her lips - if that in itself wasn't something to be concerned about, it was high time to be. Of course, not many of the people she would know just about now would have had much knowledge of her, but when Jade normally did go quiet, it signalled that she was in deep thought...and that could lead to even more danger.
She didn't like this. She didn't like this one little bit. In fact, no, she bloody hated it. Stuck purchasing a ship with....with some poncey young whelp who seemed far too polite for his appearance, and , well...how could you describe Whimsey? His idle threats still lingered in her mind as she mooched after the men, feeling for all the world like she may as well not exist. It was awfully similar a story to her childhood, really, or what she remembered of it - always ignored, never really existing to her family. Bitterness, days of bitterness and anger and upset had created Jade's happy and forced façade, but right now all she felt like doing was punching something. It was just happening again - the boys were off for their adventure, and little Jade the pain was tagging along as usual, not really serving a purpose but to hinder.
Well I'll show them. I've been in a shipwreck (Jade made the assumption that the reason she found herself injured in a small vessel at sea by the Dutchman is because she must have been on a larger one that sank)...I made a deal and escaped the devil himself. I made a deal with Jack Sparrow without getting myself killed. I met Beckett and fought my way through a branding...I'm still standing, I'm still here, and I'll show them just what that means- they aren't imprisoning or killing the man who saved me while I'm still here.
The silent reverie and any further progress along the docks was arrested by Will's back, which she almost walked into as he ground to a halt to be interrogated by the official. As they exchanged a few words, Jade allowed herself a swift little glance about the area, bright emerald eyes drinking in the many colours and fantastic shapes of all the ships as she spent her few minutes 'not being here'. She glanced from the smallest vessels to the more impressive ones, and finally, inevitably, her attention was drawn to the sheer bulk of The Endeavour, which forced a worried frown upon her face. This was strange. It was a close one to the smaller Intrepid, and that was enough to make a few muscles on her face twitch- a Navy ship. She had always been neutral on the Navy; pirates and privateers in the same sweep- as long as none of the groups harassed her, she didn't care about their jobs and saw them as just that - professions.
But now she was branded...all of that was to change.
And then, stupidly, Jade became fully aware of the dock-front buildings and the pretty azure view she could see from this dock. She had seen the same sort of tableaux not all that long ago. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she turned about slightly and raised an eyebrow at the large, official-looking building. So that was where she had been. Hmm...and that must be his office. If she had a ballista…
"I have a friend who is interested in purchasing a ship for a more or less immediate voyage."
The drag back to reality was a sharp one. Everything clicked back into sharp focus and the consciousness of time began to trickle back when she finally saw the men talking about ships. A few seconds passed as Jade glanced about the docks for a suitable-looking vessel, and eventually after a moment or two, her gaze alighted upon a rather pleasant one, and she gave a pretty little smile, because underneath all the harsh thoughts, scowls and mud she hadn't yet washed off (but desperately wanted to) she was rather beautiful. But she wasn't so great with the words when it came to interruptions. Lightly, she tapped Will's shoulder and gave him a nervous little smile.
"Erm...How about we try an' get that one...?"
She indicated a small square-rigged Snow near the far end of the dock. It was nothing particularly special - a dark-wood craft, painted only a slight richer shade than it's original timber and carrying a pale lilac stretch of canvas, but it looked sturdy and well-made, with everything suitable for cross-seas travel...she thought.
Whimsey smiled and winced at the good work of the Turner lad. He looked out over the ships around. He was spoilt for choice. "I do not know what the blither I am doing when looking at sea-bound vessels. I would like one that is relative in glory, reasonable in size, and as many guns as we can operate, plus a few more for joy. Oh and it must be fast... cost is no object, pick me one to fill those loose criteria and I shall be happy, Mr Turner. Cost is no object. "
Will considered the differences in opinion for a while. "How about that barque over there?" he indicated one hiding away - as best a large-ish ship could - at the far end of the dock. "Not as large as the galleons, which by the looks of things are not in stock, and fair for speed. Not too few cannons and a generally sound sight." Out of the corner of his eye, Turner noticed some guards muttering amongst one another and looking in his direction. What are they gibbering about? he wondered.
Turner's wonderings were answered as the docksman addressed him. "What is your name, sir? So that the proper paperwork might be taken into account..."
Will narrowed his eyes. "Turner. William Turner. A good friend of the governor and his daughter."
"Then it is even more the pity that I have to do this, sir, because you are not a friend of Lord Beckett. Guards!"
The suspicious sentries rushed in and grabbed Will by the arms.
"Take him and his associates to the cells to await a further meeting with his lordship."
One of the guards aimed his firearm at Whimsey and Jade, gesturing for them to move on ahead.
A few muscles on Jade's face twitched whilst she waited for the arguments and disagreements to desist. Bored already, and itching to just go and set sail before Jack got killed or something incredibly stupid like that, she drove both hands into her deep pockets and sauntered in little circles on the jetty, watching the boats as Will chatted away in his stupid well-to-do voice.
Why did she have to get stuck with these types of people? It just wasn't fair. It never was. Such was life, she supposed-if she wanted to get anywhere in the end, she'd have to work towards it stolidly, grinning and bearing any unpleasantries that the world threw up until she got where she needed to be. In this case, far, far away from this horrific Port and its crazy Lord. A sidelong glance was given to the guards, busy muttering and giving baleful glances in the unusual trio's general direction, but she didn't bother with them for long, because once again, her eyes found themselves inexplicably drawn to the large balcony of the huge offices, and a frown crossed her face with slow surety. There was someone up there, and what's more, they were smiling. Bad, bad sign. The frown soon became a grimace, and within milliseconds, a panic as realization hit.
There are quite a number of unusual sounds one makes in an oppressive or frightened silence. An outlet of a whole spectrum of emotions for the vocalist, these noises range from little whines and whimpers to small phrases or even the odd disgruntled mewling or growl...
"Then it is even more the pity that I have to do this, sir, because you are /not/ a friend of Lord Beckett. Guards!"
In this one particular case, our little vocalist made a noise awfully close to 'Meep'. Jade never let her bright gaze falter from the docksman as Will was apprehended and other guardsmen began to approach rather cautiously. Hands flexing and clenching alternately, the young pirate grumbled and hardly even remained still for a second as her brain began to process the information and formulate an idea to get Will out so they could leave unhindered. But there's always that little snag, isn't there?
"Take him and his associates to the cells to await a further meeting with his lordship."
....Bugger.
It was at this point that the unfortunate, strange young lady decided that now was the best time to go out of her way to get away without second thought for whom might be left behind. Partially driven by instinct, but mainly by fear of Beckett, Jade backed away with quiet little thumps of her oddly coloured boots, staring uneasily down the muzzle of the rifle pointed at her and Whimsey. The steps began to increase in pace, faster and faster until she was backing up at quite a rate down the jetty, but in fact only got about six feet or so before her back hit something undeniably solid and not unlike a human. Further inspection did, in fact, reveal it to be a rather heavy-set human of the Navy Officer variety; none-too happy and wielding a rather nasty bayonet on the end of his rifle. Grumbling something with language not quite expected of any lady (or man, to be brutally honest) the assessment was decided too risky and she turned back again, pouting.
"I already 'ad a meeting. 'E doesn't wan-"
A heavy hand pushed her forwards rather roughly, which sent her skidding back to where she started by Will, even more annoyed and with a rather large bruise developing over she shoulder too, to add to the misery. Jade soon enough found herself being bullied along with the blacksmith, and Whimsey, back to the cells and, worse, inevitably, Beckett. Rubbing her branded wrist above the shirt sleeve that obscured the scar, the young pirate gave one last glance to the balcony and winced. So much for escape. From the darkness of the buildings fronting the docks, one dark-haired young man dressed in navy uniform could find only one word to describe the scene.
"Bugger."
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Many hours had passed since her visitors had vacated her home. The trance-stricken voodoo woman sat, unmoved at her desk. Slowly, her eyes opened. Knowing eyes, fringed with pencil-tip dots. Tia Dalma rose and surveyed her shack, sensing what had taken place. Something sinister also. Feeling the unsettling of her blood, so unnervingly human...she clasped the heart-shaped, crab locket from her table and placed it in a pouch at her side.
"Da time is approaching..." she whispered.
She took a few moments to raid her stores for supplies. Then she left her home behind.
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It had been several days since Jones and his crew had reached the battered form of the Black Pearl moments too late. The Dutchman had surfaced in time to see the Kraken swallowing the last of the ship's mast before sinking under the waves. A mixture of minor joy through revenge and harrowing anguish, at the loss of the treasure he wished to retrieve, tore at his very being. His opportunity for a deeper, long-harboured revenge had been stolen from him. The prospect of his only ever desire felt once more denied to him.
Davy Jones howled and roared into the night, hammering at the old organ with tentacles, suckers and claw, so loudly that he could no longer hear the slow, crystalline sound of the music box...