Barbossa didn't know how much time has passed since he and his crew had arrived on Tortuga. With every drink, hours turned into days, days turned into weeks and weeks turning into a months. No one really cared though, with an unlimited supply of riches at their disposal, the crew of the Black Pearl didn't have a single reason to leave the pirate paradise they were living. Just as time passed by, so did the Aztec gold, going from hand to hands, from merchant to merchant, most pirates trading their part of the treasure for hundreds and hundreds shillings they could more conveniently at their whim.
Currently it was a calm night at Tortuga, as calm as it could ever get in the pirate town. Barbossa was standing in front of a fine bed inside of one of the many buildings that filled the pirate haven. His black coat and circular hat laid on top of a nearby chair under a wide-open window, that allowed to see the dark and cloudy sky above them. The pirate Captain smirked as he untied his light green bandana, tossing it with the rest of his belongings, on front of him laid the most beautiful woman that his riches could pay, her blonde back length hair, combined with her beautiful and sparkling blue eyes reminded him of a painting of an angel, an angel that descended from the heavens to reward this humble pirate. Her fine silk dress only threw fuel on to the fire.
"It's getting real late, Captain." She spoke seductively to him, crossing a leg in front of the other one, extending both of her arms towards the pirate. "It ain't very cordial to let a fine gal like me waiting."
"Aye." Barbossa smiled, slowly starting to unbutton the silver buttons of his vest. "Worry not my fine angel, my ship will dock on your port in just a few seconds from now."
She giggled, waving a hand fan in front of her face.
Before Barbossa could fully take off his brown vest, the dark and grey clouds that had remained in place through the entire night, gained a will of their own as they started to move away, clearing the skies and allowing for the full moon to be visible in her entire glory, allowing for his silver rays of light to rain down upon the pirate town. Those same silver rays pashed through the single window of the room they were in.
The second the moonlight made contact with Barbossa's body, in an instant all the flesh and blood of his body disappeared into nothingness, as well as all of his organs except his eyes and tongue, magically holding on to his skull. Like his body, his fine clothing withered away like if they had existed for hundreds of years, nothing but glorified rags holding on to his body.
Naturally, the blonde screamed at the horrific sight before her, just a few disables away from shattering glass, much to the confusion of the pirate Captain, who watched run away in fright out of the room. Before Barbossa could say anything, he looked at his own, now skeletal hand.
Out of horror of seeing his own decayed hand, the pirate tripped down, landing on his rear on to the wooden plank of the floor, which strangely enough he didn't feel at all. The half Irish man was frozen as stared at his own body: all the flesh and blood had returned back to him, but everything from his waist down was nothing but skeletal remains and torn apart rags, his once polished boots were withered and unmaintained.
"What devilry is this?" Barbossa spat out. He hadn't taken a single drop of rum the entire day, he was completely sober. Had his brain finally worn out? The Captain then looked up at the window, noticing the moonlight, never in his life had it ever been so prominent before, it looked like silver-blueish sunlight. Slowly and cautiously removed his legs off the moonlight, swearing he could hear a slash through the air as the flesh and blood materialized back into them. "The hell...?"
The Englishman raised up to his feet, his eyes focused entirely on the moonlight. Hesitating for a moment, he moved a hand back into the silver ray with caution, instantly changing his hand back to a skeletal form, his boney fingers crackling as he wiggled them around. Barbossa then turned his attention on to his sleeve, that had somehow also transformed, reaching for his coat to test something.
Placing the coat in the moonlight, he noticed how it didn't change at all what so ever, as well as protecting his arm from its effects. He followed that by putting on the coat and walking into the moonlight, the coat withering away like the rest of his clothing. A million questions where currently racing through his mind, one of the more prominent ones was how he felt no pain whatsoever when his flesh peeled away and returned back to him … now that he thought about it, he wasn't really feeling much of anything. Barbossa placed a hand on to the nearby wall, where instead of feeling the cold and rigid wall, he felt nothing, absolutely nothing. His heart started to race as fast as a shark could swim, placing both of his hands on top of his face, nothing but a void of nothingness.
He wanted to scream; he would have done it if someone else hadn't done it for him.
Turning his head towards the window, he could hear dozens of people screaming their lungs out on the streets. Quickly, he tied his bandana around his head, as well as placing his round hat on top of his head and the leather sheath that holstered his cutlass. Rushing out of the room and down the stairs, he headed towards the front door of the building he was in, kicking it wide open. The second he exited out into to the open his body transmuted into the skeletal form, even with his hat over his head, making everyone around him run away in fear and horror of the undead man before them.
Barbossa cursed under his breath, thinking that his hat would have stopped the effects of whatever the hell was happening to him. Turning his gaze around to the left, he swore he heard a familiar voice, seeing two other skeletal men. Even when they were bare to the bone, he still was able to recognize Koehler's dreadlocks and Twigg's yellow coat and bandana. And they instantly recognized him when he runed towards them.
"Captain!" Twigg cried.
"What the fuck is happening to us?!" Koehler cursed, looking at the palms of his skeletal hands.
"I don't know!" Barbossa spat out. Only a half truth, he was starting to have a faint idea of what might be happening to him, and seeing that two of his crewmen were also being affected only fortified the idea. He didn't like that idea. The half Irish man breathed heavily in silence for a couple of seconds until he realized that his men were staring at him, panic written in their eyes, the only way they could express emotions anymore as their bare skulls showed none.
He took one deep breath before he straightened his posture and recomposed himself. "Koehler, Twigg, gather all the men, bring them aboard the Black Pearl, we depart now.
"Now!" Barbossa raised his tone to snap them out of their shock, both of them going off to do as their Captain commanded.
It took them more than half an hour to gather all the crewmen back in the Black Pearl, the Captain ordering the crew to immediately make out of the bay, not allowing in any time to answer the hundreds of questions the men had. Once they were far away so that pirate island was no longer visible to the naked eye, they anchored down the Pearl. Barbossa stood on top of the upper deck, his skeletal hands placed on top of the wooden railing, while the rest of the crew looked up at the man from the main deck
"Captain, what the hell is happening to us?" Bo'sun asked, the normally stoically and quiet man had a certain sense of panic to his voice.
"I-I can't feel." Twigg said, pressing his skeletal hand into the ship's main mast. "There, there just be nothing."
"Whateve' it is, it be only affecting us unde' the moonlight." Barbossa pointed out, trying to calm down the crew, as well as himself. He shifted his gaze down to the left, seeing Jack clinging on to the ship's railing. Not even the poor Capuchin monkey was spared from the wrath of whatever sickness was upon them, his pristine fur now decayed and hanging into his skeletal remains of his body; interestingly, he didn't appear to be in a state of panic and anxiety, just confused at his current state and why the peanut he was trying to eat was constantly falling down from his ribcage.
"Aye." Jacoby said, holding a piece wood over his hand, it returning to it's fleshy state under the shadow of the plank. "Where back to bein' all fleshy again when unde' somethin'."
"But not our clothin', or our hats." Hawksmoor said.
"At least when we are wearin' them." Simbakka pointed out.
"Oi, Uncle." Ragetti said, getting the attention of the balding man, the pointing a skeletal finger into his nonexistent stomach. "Look at the good side, you've lost some pounds."
"Shut up, fool!" Pintel said, smacking him in the back of his head, with enough force to pop out the blonde's wooden eye out of it's socket, rolling around the deck.
All of the sudden the crewmen look down under the railing, seeing Crash through down a bottle of rum, his scalp down as he punched the wooden wall. "Even out of the moonlight, I can't taste shit!"
"What's happenin' to us?" Grapple said.
"I … I don't know." Barbossa lied, he was completely sure of the origin of this sickness upon them.
"I know!" Bootstrap spoke up, moving up to the front of the crowd, all eyes laid upon him; like himself, the man also still had some soft tissue over where his nose should be."I know! I be sure you know too! And I be sure most of you have an idea of what's happenin' to us as well.
"It's the curse of Cortes' treasure!"
The men's faces paled all around, their eyes widening and their jaws dropping, quite literally to some of them, much to their horror.
"The curse." Mallot and many pirates said under their breathes.
"Oh God!" Dog Ear said. "Are we stuck like this forever?!"
"This is your fault, Barbossa!" Bootstrap pointed a finger accusingly.
"Aye!" Maximo said. "It was you who us took there!"
Katracho took a step forward. "And it was you who said that the curse was just childish superstition!"
Barbossa quietly looked around, sensing that the crewmen were just a couple of bad words away from unsheathing their cutlasses and pointing them at his neck. The half Irish man took a deep breath as he momentarily closed his eyes. "Men! Listen up! Standin' here and pointin' fingers for someone to blame be nothin' but pointless.
"Did I bring ya to the island? Aye. Did I say the curse was nothin' more than childish superstition? Aye as well. But am I really to blame for us? It be Jack Sparrow who told us of the Isla de Muerta and it's treasure, had he still been Captain of the Black Pearl we would be in this same situation, just with a different man to point blame at!"
This more or less seemed to calm down the crew members, at least to a state where they wouldn't just jump at him.
"What to we do know, Captain?" Bo'sun asked. "How do we get this curse off?"
Barbossa remained silent, trying to find something they could do to break this curse. He was there in that state for nearly a minute until his eyes lifted up, an idea popping up to his mind. "Gents, ready up and raise the anchor, we have a destination. Set a course for up river."
The sun had already risen by time the dark hulled ship arrived the coasts of the island of Cuba. As the darkness of the night was eaten away by the blue skies of daylight, they no longer had to worry about the silver rays of the moon reveling their bare skeletal nature, much to the relief of the crew members.
Climbing down into a longboat, where Bo'sun, Twigg, Koehler and Jacoby sat as well, Barbossa looked up to the island in front of him. While mostly covered in palm trees and small beaches, there was a long river the led deep into the island, wide enough to fit two longboats without problem. The Pantano River it was called, it's waters filled with alligators and piranhas according to those who dared transverse their waters.
The pirate looked around, their hands ready to grab the grips of their pistols at the moment's notice, a sense of unease filling over the area as they paddled through the swamp.
"We are we heading, Captain?" Koehler asked, his eyes focused on the weird reptiles hang onto the branch lines above them. "You've been keepin' that close to vest."
"Aye." Twigg agreed. "That didn't went well with our previous Captain, now did it?"
"Fair enough." Barbossa spoke up. "We are here to visit a Voodoo priestess called Tía Dalma, from what I be told about her, she knows how to deal with curses and stuff."
"Ever seen her before?" Bo'sun asked.
The half Irishman shook his head. "Nye, just have heard a lot of stories about this obeah woman."
"Good stories or bad stories?" Koehler asked.
"Stories to keep most men out of here."
"That not be very reassuring." Jacoby shrugged. The black bearded pirate then turned his head to the left, swearing he heard the sound of steps on water. Looking around, he was able to see many figures staring at them from the shadows, men and women with dark skin. Shifting his gaze to the right, he saw more people watching at them from the sides, frankly spooking the pirate grenadier. "Uh, Capt'n, we bein' watched."
"Aye." Barbossa said, stopping the man from reaching one of his grenades. "Worry not, Jacoby, they will not harm us, just let them be."
"I wonde' who be them." Twigg said, his eyes now focused on the dark-skinned people.
"Slaves." Bo'sun spoke up, catching the attention of his fellow pirates. "Freed slaves."
Koehler raised an eyebrow. "How can ya tell?"
"I was a slave once." He said, no emotion in his voice, but there was a slight twitch on his eye. "I can always recognize anothe' slave."
The ride after that was mostly uneventful, just passing by more dark-skinned people and reptiles they had never laid their eyes on before. They simply padded the longboat until they reached the end of the path they were following, into an open clearing, where perched in a treetop was a damp and gloomy, wooden shack. Though it glowed brightly, the hut seamed to suck the light out of the surrounding forest.
As the longboat paddled closer to it, the men were able to distinguish a ladder that led from a small jetty onto the shack's porch. In said porch, al old man sat down on a rocking chair right two the door of the two floored structure, a black furred dog sitting near his feet, sleeping. He calmly watched the pirates ever get closer to the shack; no worry displayed on his face as he sang a low tune.
Barbossa ordered his trusted crewmen to stay back and guard the 'ship', he alone would talk to this obeah woman. Most men would fill a chilling sensation running down their backs as they climbed up the ladder, but Barbossa didn't feel any chill, he didn't feel anything. Not the moist and warm of the swamp, the hard wood against his bare fingers or the flow of the wind pulling his long hair and green bandana back. Once he was up, he calmly approached the old man, who simply sang his tunes as he focused his eyes on the Pirate clad in black.
"Greetin'." Barbossa said, trying to appear as cordial as he could. "I ask to see the owner of this fine home."
The man simply pointed a finger towards the door, never stopping his humming, indicating the pirate Captain to enter the shack, him giving the dark-skinned man a simple tip of the hat before opening the door and passing through.
The Englishman was taken a back a bit when his first sight inside the shack was a large, yellow snake coiled around a tree branch, though it appeared to be harmless as it only seemed to stare at him with it's small, black eyes. Looking around, the shack was teeming with a clutter of mysterious and weird objects: jars with herbs and spices, caged animals, bones and many mummified bats, as well as an iron-bound jar filled with eyeballs.
Situated at the center of the room, was a small wooden table, with a couple of chairs near it. One of them being currently occupied.
Like everyone they had encountered, the woman sitting in front of him had dark brown skin, as well as a pair of eyes of the same colour and messy, black dreadlocked hair that reached pass her shoulders; on her face she had delicate patterns that accentuated her hypnotic eyes. She wore a large, red dress that began on her breasts and reached down to the ground, covering her bare feet. Hanging over her neck with a silver chain, was a curious, crab shaped pendant that had been tarnished and dulled from age.
The woman smiled at him.
"Ay be honored to have a Pirate Lord in front of me." She spoke with a thick west Indian accent. "Captain Hector Barbossa."
The man clad in black raised an eyebrow. "You know me?"
"Ay know da name of any mon who entars ma humble shack." Tía Dalma explained. "What have brought ya here, be something I would like ta know."
"I be coming here in need of your services." Barbossa said, taking off his round hat and sitting down in the chair in front of her. "I was told great many things about you."
"By Jack Sparraw." She grinned. It wasn't a question.
Barbossa nodded. "Aye."
"And how be dear old Jack?"
"The man's seen bette' days."
"Ay see." Tía Dalma said, changing the subject. "So what services may ay be giving you?"
He remained silent for a moment, looking for the right words before taking out one of the pieces of the Aztec gold on top of the table, much to the Voodoo priestess's intrigue. "Me and ma crew are in dire need of assistance, about a month ago, we found eight hundred and eighty two pieces of aztec gold identical to that one, inside of a stone chest, in an island called the-."
"The Isla de Muerta." Tía Dalma finished for him. "The island of death … ya hand, extended it."
Barbossa simply nodded, doing as the Obeah woman asked and extending his right hand forward. She closed her eyes before grabbing his wrist, remaining quiet for a moment. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, while Barbossa's opened wide as he saw part of his hand turn into it's skeletal form, his skin and flesh melting away.
"Ya are a cursed mon, Hector." Tía Dalma said. "A cursed placed upon da treasure centuries before by a heathen god."
"Aye, I be aware of the stories." The Englishman said. "Now, how do we get it off?"
"Ya are feeling nothing, right?" She asked, getting a nod from him. She remained quiet for a second before letting go of the pirate hands, it returning to it's normal state. The dark-skinned woman stood up. "I know of a way for ya and ya to be rid of that curse."
"Great, what be we have to do? Give you a lock of our hair or somethin?"
"I can not break da curse myself, but I can give ya da tools for yar ta do it." Tía Dalma explained, walking to a nearby room, taking a minute or so to find what she needed. She sat back on her chair, a yellowed paper on her hand, which she then passed to the Englishman. "Go back to the isla de Muerta, and read da words on 'is paper when near da stone chest, and ya shall know da conditions to break da curse that afflicts ya and Yar men."
"I see." Barbossa said, examining the contents inside of the piece of paper, appearing as nothing more than gibberish. "Ya have ma biggest thanks."
"I always love giving a helping hand to 'ose who need it." Tía Dalma then smiled. "But I will be needing payment for my services."
"Understandably." The Captain said, reaching for a small, closed up bag filled with Spanish Reales.
"Ya can keep yar silver." The Voodoo priestess said. "I'll be needing another kind of payment."
The Englishman raised an eyebrow. "Of what kind?"
Tía Dalma leaned forward into the table. "A deal, a simple deal. When I need yar help, you will come to ma aid, doesn't where ya are, doesn't matter what ya be doing, ya will help me."
"Only that?" Barbossa asked, seeing it as a rather good bargain. "Very well, I accept."
"Good." Tía Dalma nodded. "Hope ya have a good travel, Captain."
Barbossa stood up and gave the dark-skinned woman a small tip of the hat, then exiting the wooden shack. He looked down at his hand for a second, placing the other one on top of his wrist. The half Irishman shook his before climbing down the ladder, into the longboat, where his men awaited anxiously.
"Got any luck, Cap'n?" Bo'sun asked, speeking for the three other pirates.
"Aye." Barbossa smiled. "We have a ray of hope in the horizon."
Once again the crew of the Black Pearl found themselves in the skull shaped island that was the Isla de Muerta, and once again they journeyed themselves through the narrow pathway, though, there was no sense of unease this time, there was nothing.
The pirates didn't waste any seconds as they quickly jumped out of the longboats and made their way towards the stone chest. The Pirate Captain took a step forward, his eyes narrowing done at the Aztec inscriptions engraved on it. Barbossa then took out the paper, safely kept inside of his coat. Unwrapping it, he began to read out loud the words written on it."
"Meis omnibus aequae sunt omnes sermones Intellegi coeperunt." The Englishman said, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds before snapping them open, looking down at the inscriptions again, they were the same, yet they were so much clearer now. "Those poor, unfortunate souls that dare take but a piece of the gold and do not instantly give it back, shall have placed upon them the wish that many desire, to live forever, no wound will ever bring death to them.
"But for eternal life, there's a price, eternal suffering. Food shall taste like ash, their skin will lack any sensation, and any company shall not satiate their lust. But there be a solutions for the thieves who want their life back, all they have to do is return all the pieces of gold they have stolen, they will call to them when in contact of water."
"Bring all the pieces back?" Koehler asked. "It's been a month! Those thing can be bloody anywhere!"
"It said that the pieces of gold what called for us, whatever that means." Twigg pointed out.
"Aye, but when it makes contact with water, how many of them could be in dry land?"
"It could take years to find them all!" Mallot said, many of the crewmen nodding in agreement.
Before the chattering could grow any louder, Barbossa took out his pistol and aimed it to the natural, rocky ceiling, the loud bang that came after the shot ringing thought out the pirate's ears due to the echoing cave. The Captain holstered back his flintlock and crossed his arms over his chest. "Gents, this bickerin' be pointless, cryin' around like seagulls wont help us get this curse off u, no will it?
"Now, be we in between a rock and a hard place? Aye. I won't lie to you, this shall not be easy, but then again, is anythin' easy in a pirate's life?" Barbossa pointed a hand aimlessly to his men, getting a lot of nods and ayes from them. "Aye, it will take time. Aye, it will be full of hardship. But I promise you, men, we shall prove whatever heathen god that placed this curse upon us, what us pirates can do!"
"Aye!" The crew roared, tossing their fist up into the air.
The half Irishman looked around the cave, his eye searching for an individual in particular in the sea of dark coats and tricorn hats. Standing on the shadow, just at the very end of the crowd of dozens of men was Bootstrap Bill Turner. The pirate didn't appear to show the same emotion as his fellow men, a serious look on his face as the young lad, Dog Ear, talked to him. He was focused on the man for a few second before ordering men back to the boats, tossing the coin Jack had taken into the stone chest.
"That be one…" Barbossa muttered under his breath. "Just eight hundred and eighty one more to go."
It had been a few days of travel since the Black Pearl departed the Isla de Muerta for a second time, Barbossa stood on the forecastle, his sight focused on a delicious green apple, so sweet and so juicy. He took a bite out of it, the fruit's flavor being nonexistent as it made contact with his tongue. The Englishman cursed before tossing the apple overboard, into the open, salty sea.
The Captain of the Pear looked down back at the stern of the black hulled ship. Ever since they had left that accursed island, the thick fog that surrounding it had attached itself to their vessel, following them closely wherever they went. Small gaps had also begun to from on the Pearl's black sails, even after constant maintenance by the crew, didn't matter whatever they did, they would tear apart. Ever since Barbossa had read the incantention, they had develop a six sense of sort, a strange feeling that pointed them in a direction, in this case, many directions.
Barbossa sighted, looking down at the main deck, he saw Scratch barking orders to the crewmen, who where swabbing down the deck, all while Jacoby and Mallot played a soft tune of sorts with a fiddle and a concertine respectively, sitting on top of the capstan wheel. His eyes slowly turned to face Bootstrap, William Turner, he was currently mopping the dirt off the wooden planks. Among the crew, he had been the one to come out shorthanded when it came to his end of the treasure, only a single piece of Aztec gold. It shouldn't be difficult to find his golden coin.
The Englishman walked down the starboard staircase of the Black Pearl, heading towards his fellow pirate, standing behind him. "Tuner, Bootstrap."
"Captain." Bootstrap simply said, keeping his eyes down on his work.
"When we took the treasure, we gave ya only one pieces of the Aztec gold."
"Aye, I remembe' that." He rolled his eyes, still not bothering to give the pirate Captain his full attention.
"With havin' so little, ya must remembe' what ya did with it."
"Aye, I do."
Barbossa raised an eyebrow. "So? … where it be Mr. Turner?"
"Ya shall not find it."
"What do you mean, Turner?"
Bootstrap dropped the mop and got up to his feet, being face to face with his Captain, staring directly on to his eyes. "Ya shall not find it?"
"And why be that?"
"Because I made sure of it."
There was a sudden pause on the main deck of the Black Pearl, all eyes turning to see what was happening.
The towering Bo'sun walked towards Bill Tuner, eyes narrowed on him. "What be ya talkin' about?"
Bootstrap waved a hand around the crewmen. "This? This curse? This is ou' fault, this be ou' punishment fo' the mutiny, for maroonin' Jack. Had he been ou' Captain, he would've known to let the treasure be afte' sensin' that shive' we all sent afte' takin' the Aztec gold, and we wouldn't be in this situation. But then ya decided to do a mutiny, not because of any care fo' the crew, but just to give yar self powe'. We deserved this curse, we ourselves put it on us."
Without warning, Barbossa grabbed Bootstrap by the edges of his coat, slamming him into a canon. "What did ya fuckin' do?!"
Bootstrap smirked. "I sent my piece away, even before we knew we be cursed, lucky me. I sent it away to somewhere ya shall neve', eve' find it."
Fury built up on the pirate Captain, growling as he het go all of his anger on Bootstrap Bill Turner, repeatedly punching the younger pirate's face into a pulp for a minute before standing up and stomping him in the chest. Barbossa looked down at him, taking his flintlock and shooting him in the heart.
Bootstrap chuckled as he spat out blood. "Did ya forget, we can not die, what are you gonna do?"
Barbossa yelled in frustration as he tossed his pistol aside, punching the wooden wall of the Captain's cabin. The half Irishman looked down again at Bootstrap, more specifically the cannon he was laying onto. The Captain chuckled as he let out a wide grin, pointing a finger towards his First Mate. "Bo'sun, rope! Tie this traitor to that cannon!"
"Aye, Captain." Bo'sun nodded, going to get spare rope while Scratch and Twigg holstering Turner up to his feet, holding him in place.
"What are ya doin'?" Bootstrap asked.
"Ya'll see."
It didn't take long for Bo'sun to come back, bringing with him a lengthy piece of rope. Barbossa simply stood there smiling, seeing the dark skinned man tie Bootstrap on the cannon, Twigg and Scratch keeping him at bay as he tried to fight back, while Jacoby and Maximo cut out the rope that bound the cannon into the deck. The men momentarily cleared the area, allowing the Captain to look down at the man, worry visible on his face.
"Yar right, Bootstrap, we can not die." Barbossa smiled wickedly at him, then looking down at the sea bellow them. "I've always wondered how it looks down there, you be havin' the pleasure to see it with yar own eyes. Push him!"
"No, Barbossa, wait!" Bootsrap pleaded, completely unable to move as Bo'sun and the men slowly began to push the cannon overboard. All of Tuner's pleas landed in deaf ears as the men simply smiled.
Bootstrap screamed at the top of his lungs he was tossed into the open, salty sea. By instinct, he immediately closed his mouth, taking a deep breath before the weight of the pounder cannon quickly pushed the pirates down to the depths, watching the blurry image of the Black Pearl's keel fade away. It took nearly ten minutes to reach the bottom of the ocean, halfway through he wasn't able to hold onto his breath for any longer, sea water rapidly filling his lungs.
The pirate wasn't able to do nothing but scream gargled nonsense, his eyes seeing nothing but the utter darkness of the bottom of the ocean. Drowning, yet he didn't die. By his own hand he made sure that he would be in this state for the rest of his eternal life, the weight of the water crushing him down.
Bill 'Bootstrap' Turner didn't know how much had passed since they tossed him overboard, days? Weeks? Maybe a month? He didn't really care. He didn't care about much, only one thing he wanted: he wanted to die.
To die! Every night, no, everything single he moment he dreamed for the sweet release of death, to be taken a way of this prison by some guardian angel, seeing the light again. He was drowning, yet he didn't die. He was starving, yet he didn't die. And the salty water didn't help him at all with his thirst. His mother had always warned him about hell, a burning pit of fire that lasted for eternity. She was right about that last part, but there wasn't a single flame on hell, at least on his. No, his hell consisted of thick water and utter blindness, where his only company was that of strange and bizarre fishes that the pirate could barely distinguish their form.
Maybe this is what he deserved. Had he sticked up to Captain Jack, he wouldn't have ended up cursed. On the best case the two of them might have founded some miraculous escape of that patch of sand and trees in the middle of nowhere, however unlikely it sounded. On the worse case, he would have experienced a quick death by a gun shot or just have starved. Either way, it was a dream compared to his current situation.
As his thoughts dwelled on his son, William, and his wife, the pirate's head cocked to the left, the only movement he was capable of doing. He swore he heard a sound, a strange sound, the sound of a person murmuring. Bootstrap eyes were suddenly overwhelmed by a sesation he hadn't experience in what felt like an eternity: light. In front of him was a candle, an old looking candle, held by … something.
Standing in front of him was a man or something that resembled a man. His skin was pale grey like a shark, something fitting as his head appeared to have fused with a hammerhead shark; He had two pairs of eye, two in the shark part of his head and two in his face, only two of them were useful, though, as the left human eye and the right shark eye were scarred. His left arm had fused with something resembling a crab, having a crab itself on top of his back, his long and sharp fingers resembling claws. He wore little on his barnacle covered body, a ragged pair of brown pants that reached his knees, a dark red and green sashes and two leather belts, one around his waist and another one across his chest.
"Well, well, well, we do we 'ave 'ere?" The shark man said, somehow being able to talk as if he wasn't in the bottom of the ocean. He grinned his sharp teeth. "Neve' though I'd see a man that weren't apart of the crew be alive this deep into the ocean."
Bootstrap tried to speak, though only gargled nonsense came out of his mouth. The shark man chuckled.
"Can't speak, huh? Wouldn't expect you to." He place a hand on the cannon he was tied to. "I wonde' what's the story behind this."
He turned his face towards the English pirate. "It appears ya are in dire need from dea' old Maccus, I suppose? The pressure of the wate' must be crushin' you."
Bootstrap didn't even bother to question what the hell was happening, he didn't hesitate for a second. Unable to talk he merely nodded with his head, getting another grin from his would be savior. Maccus took out a silver boarding axe he was holding on his back with the crab legs, swinging it down at the ropes that bound Turner senior into the cannon, finally freeing him from the watery hell that had been his existence for the last few weeks.
Even then he was having trouble moving due to the pressure of the bottom of the ocean. Before he could fell face flat against the sand, Maccus caught him, himself showing no trouble walking at this depths.
"It be bette' if we were to have this conversation somewhere more … hospitable." Maccus said, grabbing him by the waist and launching themselves upwards. It took him a couple of minutes for the shark man to swim them up to the surface.
Bootstrap felt like he was about to cry as he starred at night sky, not a thing cloud in sight to stop him from seeing the thousands of bright, gleaming stars in their full beauty.
"Huh, you be an interesting fella, a boney one, can't say I haven't seen weirder things." Maccus said, making the pirate look down at himself. In his state of euphoria, he hadn't realized the full moon was shining down on him, showing his skeletal form.
The shark man then swam the two of them to a ship Bootstrap had just realized was there, one eerie looking vessel. Maccus helped the English pirate get on board of the ship, pulling him over deck, where Bootstrap did nothing but pulling in air into his lunges for a minute or more, after nearly a month without breathing.
"Must 'ave spent a lot of time down there." Maccus commented, looking down at the man.
"Who … who are you?" Bootstrap asked, his voice broken.
"Did the wate' damage yar brain, my skeletal friend? I told ya it was Maccus."
"What are you?"
Maccus chuckled. "That be a bette' question, though I don't really know how to answe' that. I have a question of my own, do ya know where ya are?"
Bill Turner looked around, starring at the rotten hull, covered in pieces of barnacle and other forms of sea life. It took the Englishman a few moments before something snapped in his mind, an idea popping up. "This is the Flying Dutchman."
"Aye it be." Bootstrap heard a voice said in a Scottish accent, followed by the sound of footsteps coming towards them.
Looking up, he saw countless of monstrosities in front of him, men covered in different form of aquatic flora and some animals as well. But at the center of them was a figure he recognized due to the descriptions of stories he had heard about them.
He was tall, the tallest man he had ever seen. His head appear to be fused together with a pale green octopus, a beard formed out of tentacles instead of hair. On his left arm he had a crustacean-like claw, while his right arm resembled that of a crab, looking like a peg leg. Unlike Maccus, he was much more clothed, wearing a dark blue coat over a light grey waistcoat, tied with a dark red sash and a leather belt with a patinated buckle. He also had a dark grey pair of pants and a single, leather boot. Most notably, he wore over his head a dark blue, tricorn hat, with a golden brim along the edge; it's front corn was bigger than the other two and divided, making it's silhouette resemble devil horns.
Made sense, after all he was in front of the devil of the seas.
"Davy Jones." Bootstrap let out, his eyes wide open.
"That be me, but who be you, my boney friend?"
"Bootstrap, Bootstrap Bill Turner."
"Alright, Bootstrap Bill Turner." Davy jones said, walking closer to him, kneeling down and igniting a pipe he hold with one of his tentacles. "Tell me, do ya fea' death?"
It had been over three months since the crew began their crusade in search of all of the pieces of the Aztec gold and the crew had shown some mild success. Currently in their possession, they had been able to retrieve seventy eight golden coins, as well as luxury items and silver ingots they had pillaged from ships and towns that held the treasure they owed. If they weren't able to keep the riches of the treasure of Cortez, they might as well find something else to fill its place.
Running out of space inside the Black Peal, the cursed crew had simply decided to toss the riches they had acquired near the stone chest, making the Isla de Muerta as their base of operation on this forceful enterprise they were participating in. Though the complete lack of any sense other than pain was starting to take a toll on the pirates, they couldn't lie, they liked being invincible. Not having to worry of getting shot or stabbed while in battle had alleviated some stress of their tormented shoulders, practically being able to just walk through them. Better yet when they attacked under the rays of the moonlight, where their cursed skeletal appearances would just scare into surrender any adversary they faced, making battles very short.
Barbossa was polishing his saber, a mixture between a broadsword and a rapier, taking seat near the stone chest while the men brought I their plunder. Taking a glance to the right, he looked at the stone chest. Inexplicably, all of the crewmen were able to recognize, to sense, which had been the pieces stolen directly by them, those currently sitting inside of the chest belonging to Mallot, Maximo, Koehler, Dog Ear and Katracho respectively.
The Englishman raised an eyebrow as he stared into the side of the chest, noticing some dust covering one of the corners of it. Out of curiosity, he asked Grapple to bring him a rag, dusting off that section of the chest so he could see what was it covering.
"What are you doin', Cap'tn?" Grapple asked, some of the fellow crewmen coming towards them out of curiosity or just plain boredom.
Barbossa didn't answer, taking out the paper Tia Dalma had given him and reading out the incantation once again, reading the symbols they had missed his first time here. "… they will call to them when in contact of water and when all pieces are delivered, the blood of the thieves must be dripped on the gold they stole, and the curse shall be undone."
Everyone in the cave completely froze after Barbossa finished reading that last pat, many of them dropping goblets and silver chains they were carrying on their hands. The pirate Captain found himself in an equal state, mouth slightly agape as he thought what I meant to them. Months ago, it would have been nothing, just a drip of blood from their palms into the gold and tossed into the chest. But they … he had tossed Bootstrap overboard, into the ocean. He could feel that ray of hope just fade away in front of his eyes.
"Damn it!" Koehler cursed out loud, punching a nearby rocky wall. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
"No, no, no …" Mallot said as just hit him what that meant.
"Without Bootstrap's blood were going to be stuck like this." Jacoby said, kicking a nearby goblet.
"But can we not just go find them?" Ragetti asked. "Where we tossed him?"
Pintel frowned. "And how exactly do you propose we do it? It was the middle of the ocean!"
Barbossa simply placed both of his hand on the sides of the chest as his men spoke, his eyes wide opened and a completely defeated look on his face. "No…"
It didn't matter what they did, it didn't matter how hard they tried, it would simply be impossible to find the location of where they had tossed down Turner, the Pearl was on the middle of sailing though somewhere in the Caribbean Sea. They would just be stuck like this for ever, unable to feel, unable to die. This was like hell, no, it was hell, a hell on earth.
"Captain, um, Captain?" Dog Ear called, getting no attention from the half Irishman until he got closer to him. "Captain?"
"What is it, lad?" Barbossa asked, not turning his back to the young pirate, his voice was down and had no emotion.
"Since we can not use Bootstrap's blood, why be we not use that of his son?" Dog Ear said, Barbossa turning around so he was face to face with the pirate.
"Son?"
"Aye, his son, Bootstrap once mentioned he had a child." Dog Ear explained. "The boy would have his father's blood on him, right?"
"Aye." Barbossa nodded. "Aye! Gents, ou' hope is not dead yet!"
The pirates quickly changed their mood at the sound of the news, light returning back to their slowly yellowing eyes, tossing their fists up into the air.
"Lad, Dog Ear, we must find this child." Barbossa said. "Did Turner eve' tell ya where his child be?"
"He only ever mentioned he was from England." Dog Ear said. "Didn't eve' say his name or of his wife."
"Alright, at least be we have a destination where to keep a weathe' eye on." The Captain said, sheathing off his cutlass and slicing his palm, dripping the blood into one of the coins he had stolen that laid there on the stone chest. "Worry not, gents, we shall find this child and we be have the blood repaid. Findin' him can not take more than finding the pieces of the Aztec gold."
Ten Years Later
Captain Hector Barbossa sighted, closing his eyes. "Aye, that be how we got there."
He and his men had gotten what thousands of others desired, immortality. No matter how many times they were stabbed, or shot, or ripped apart by cannon fire or grenades, they would simply not die. No this wasn't immortality, that implied eternal life. He and his crew weren't among the living, they couldn't taste, they couldn't feel, happiness was a foreign concept to them and hunger and thirst were the norm. They were all dead inside, and the moonlight only revealed what daylight hided.
Had it been worth it? Definitely not. He had a cave full of gold and jewels and other riches at his disposal, but he would trade it all away without a single thought, to live in utter poverty, all just to be able to state a fresh, juicy and sweet apple. He wondered, what would have happened if he-
Everything froze to him in an instant, Barbossa immediately snapping his yellowed eyes open. Throughout his entire body a sensation ringed every single nerve, a sensation he hadn't experienced in years by this point, a drawing sensation, a sensation that called to him. The last piece of Aztec gold was calling to them.
He didn't know much time he stood on that catatonic state, but he was snapped out of it when Bo'sun entered his quarters in a rush, followed by Koehler, Twigg and Jacoby, all of them had that same look on their faces that he had.
"Captain." Bo'sun spoke up.
"Aye." Captain Barbossa said.
"The last piece of the Aztec gold has been found."