"Captain, we've sighted the Black Pearl!"
"Whereabouts, Tom?"
"Dead ahead, captain, a mile off as the raven flies." The helmsman grinned, showing his blackened teeth, and sang out, "Lively now! Black Pearl sighted! All hands aloft! Every stitch of canvas we've got better be catchin' the breeze, or I'll have y' guts fer ratlines. Move, ye dogs!"
The captain shook her mass of wavy dark hair back, but it fell into her eyes again, so she bound it back with a scarlet scarf and a muttered oath. Her jet black eyes glittered maliciously as she sprang over the railing of the upper deck down onto the main one, ignoring the stairs in her excitement. She scrambled up the mainmast, leaving the rhythmically swaying deck far below as she climbed to the highest point on the ship, the crow's nest, her distinctive garb- white shirt (too large), black breeches (too tight) scarlet and blue sash (too bright), and beat up knee-high boots (just right) - a splash of jewel-bright color against the white of the Bluefang's sails. Her trip was delayed for a moment as the hilts of the twin sabers strapped to her back caught on a line, but she quickly freed herself and moved on. Reaching the crow's nest, she seized the spyglass tucked into her sash and gazed intently at the Pearl, which was growing steadily larger in her vision as they drew near.
The Jolly Roger snapped in the breeze, grinning at her as she gazed at the cursed ship. The sails were black, of course, a tribute to her black-hearted captain, perhaps. She could see the crew, working nearly as quickly and efficiently as her own, scrambling to prepare their vessel for confrontation. No question about it she thought grimly. The Pearl is faster than us, by a good margin. Still, I've four more long nines than Barbossa. A pretty even match, then.
They were drawing near now, near enough that the captain replaced her spyglass in her sash, pulled out her pistol, grabbed a rope, and swung gracefully down to the deck. The crew were ready at the cannons. She nodded, and drew her right-hand saber. Pointing it at the Pearl, she bellowed, "Fire!" just as the Pearl's guns opened up, and the impacts of multiple hits reverberated through the Bluefang's deck.
The Bluefang's cannonballs slammed home, and then a voice, male and agonized, called across the water from the Pearl. "STOP BLOWING HOLES IN MY SHIP!"
The captain stared. She knew that voice! Barbossa didn't sound like that! Why, that sounded like- "Cease fire!" she bellowed.
She leaned out precariously, filled her lungs, and roared at the black-sailed ship, "PARLEY! I- INVOKE- THE- RIGHT- OF- PARLEY!"
There was a moment of silence, then "VERY WELL! PULL ALONGSIDE US AN' YOU'LL HAVE YOUR PARLEY, WHOEVER YOU ARE!"
Tom glanced at her questioningly, and she nodded curtly. This she reflected wryly is a gamble. If that wasn't who I think it was, I'm dead and am about to find it out.
She stuffed her pistol back into her sash as they drew alongside the Pearl. The Pearl's crew stood waiting, grim-faced, armed to the teeth, some seemingly including teeth. She searched their faces, looking for the one who shouted, but saw no one she recognized. She seized a line and swung boldly onto the Pearl's deck as her crew lashed the two ships together. She hand signaled them to stay aboard the Bluefang.
She lifted her chin imperiously, and called, "Where be your Captain? I desire to speak with hi-"
Several things happened very fast. Someone thudded to the deck behind her, and wrapped an arm around her, pinning her arms to her sides. That someone also had a knife to her throat. In the same instant, the Pearls crew raised their rifles, concealed behind them 'til now, and aimed them across the gap between ships at her crew.
She froze as a voice very close to her ear said, "Who might you be, love? Blowing holes in me ship, now. That isn't very nice. I don't"- he flicked the blade casually against her throat, causing a droplet of blood to run down her skin- "appreciate that much." He traced a line down her neck with a finger, following the track of the blood. "Now, be a good girl, answer everything I ask you, and maybe I'll let you live, savvy?"
She nodded fractionally in agreement.
"Now tell me," the voice continued, in tones of casual interest, "what ship just fired on the Pearl?"
"The Bluefang."
"Really," said the voice. "And who am I addressing now?"
"Her Captain," said the woman flatly, and, tiring of the charade, she reached up and shoved the blade away from her throat, "Saberjess. Hello, Birdie."
Strong hands seized her shoulders and spun her around so fast that she fell against none other than Captain Jack Sparrow. "Jess!" he cried. "How are you? Captain of your own ship!" Then his expression darkened, and he held her at arm's length, his grip on her shoulders painfully tight. "Why did you fire on the Pearl if you knew it was me?"
"I didn't know it was you," Jess replied, rubbing the cut on her throat. "I've been after Barbossa for months now. I hope you got him with your single shot?"
Jack gave her a smile that was all teeth and in no way pleasant. "I did indeed. Cornered him on the Isla de Muerta. Killed him all by me onesy- shot him right in the heart, savvy?" He thumped a hand off his own chest to demonstrate.
Jess nodded, satisfied, then her expression grew contemplative, and she asked, "Did he, ah, say anything as he died?"
Jack's expression grew closed, his dark eyes wary. "Why might ye be askin' me that, now?"
Jess folded her arms across her chest. "Tell your crew to lower their weapons and I'll tell ye."
Jack smacked his forehead in comic dismay, and flapped a hand impatiently at his crew, who lowered their rifles and stood watching, their curiosity plain to see. Jess half-bowed her thanks, and said, "It's just that I warned him, warned him what happens to men who die a traitor's death."
Jack's expression cleared somewhat, and he said, "Aye... He said he felt cold. Dunno if that means anything to ye."
Jess turned a wicked grin loose on him, and replied, "It means much, nay, everything to me." Jack continued to look vaguely puzzled, so Jess elaborated, "The deepest circle of Hell is icy cold, Jack. Barbossa and his crew will freeze for all eternity; the fate of traitors and mutineers."
Jack shivered, and quickly changed the subject. "If yer interested, we can leave the ships lashed together for th' night. My crew 'n yours might like to have a bit of fun, savvy? Besides," he added, flashing her what he seemed to think was an irresistible grin, "We have some catching up to do, and I have a business opportunity for you."
"Very well, Birdie, we'll do that."
Jack scowled, and muttered under his breath, "That's Captain Birdie to you, wench."
"Whereabouts, Tom?"
"Dead ahead, captain, a mile off as the raven flies." The helmsman grinned, showing his blackened teeth, and sang out, "Lively now! Black Pearl sighted! All hands aloft! Every stitch of canvas we've got better be catchin' the breeze, or I'll have y' guts fer ratlines. Move, ye dogs!"
The captain shook her mass of wavy dark hair back, but it fell into her eyes again, so she bound it back with a scarlet scarf and a muttered oath. Her jet black eyes glittered maliciously as she sprang over the railing of the upper deck down onto the main one, ignoring the stairs in her excitement. She scrambled up the mainmast, leaving the rhythmically swaying deck far below as she climbed to the highest point on the ship, the crow's nest, her distinctive garb- white shirt (too large), black breeches (too tight) scarlet and blue sash (too bright), and beat up knee-high boots (just right) - a splash of jewel-bright color against the white of the Bluefang's sails. Her trip was delayed for a moment as the hilts of the twin sabers strapped to her back caught on a line, but she quickly freed herself and moved on. Reaching the crow's nest, she seized the spyglass tucked into her sash and gazed intently at the Pearl, which was growing steadily larger in her vision as they drew near.
The Jolly Roger snapped in the breeze, grinning at her as she gazed at the cursed ship. The sails were black, of course, a tribute to her black-hearted captain, perhaps. She could see the crew, working nearly as quickly and efficiently as her own, scrambling to prepare their vessel for confrontation. No question about it she thought grimly. The Pearl is faster than us, by a good margin. Still, I've four more long nines than Barbossa. A pretty even match, then.
They were drawing near now, near enough that the captain replaced her spyglass in her sash, pulled out her pistol, grabbed a rope, and swung gracefully down to the deck. The crew were ready at the cannons. She nodded, and drew her right-hand saber. Pointing it at the Pearl, she bellowed, "Fire!" just as the Pearl's guns opened up, and the impacts of multiple hits reverberated through the Bluefang's deck.
The Bluefang's cannonballs slammed home, and then a voice, male and agonized, called across the water from the Pearl. "STOP BLOWING HOLES IN MY SHIP!"
The captain stared. She knew that voice! Barbossa didn't sound like that! Why, that sounded like- "Cease fire!" she bellowed.
She leaned out precariously, filled her lungs, and roared at the black-sailed ship, "PARLEY! I- INVOKE- THE- RIGHT- OF- PARLEY!"
There was a moment of silence, then "VERY WELL! PULL ALONGSIDE US AN' YOU'LL HAVE YOUR PARLEY, WHOEVER YOU ARE!"
Tom glanced at her questioningly, and she nodded curtly. This she reflected wryly is a gamble. If that wasn't who I think it was, I'm dead and am about to find it out.
She stuffed her pistol back into her sash as they drew alongside the Pearl. The Pearl's crew stood waiting, grim-faced, armed to the teeth, some seemingly including teeth. She searched their faces, looking for the one who shouted, but saw no one she recognized. She seized a line and swung boldly onto the Pearl's deck as her crew lashed the two ships together. She hand signaled them to stay aboard the Bluefang.
She lifted her chin imperiously, and called, "Where be your Captain? I desire to speak with hi-"
Several things happened very fast. Someone thudded to the deck behind her, and wrapped an arm around her, pinning her arms to her sides. That someone also had a knife to her throat. In the same instant, the Pearls crew raised their rifles, concealed behind them 'til now, and aimed them across the gap between ships at her crew.
She froze as a voice very close to her ear said, "Who might you be, love? Blowing holes in me ship, now. That isn't very nice. I don't"- he flicked the blade casually against her throat, causing a droplet of blood to run down her skin- "appreciate that much." He traced a line down her neck with a finger, following the track of the blood. "Now, be a good girl, answer everything I ask you, and maybe I'll let you live, savvy?"
She nodded fractionally in agreement.
"Now tell me," the voice continued, in tones of casual interest, "what ship just fired on the Pearl?"
"The Bluefang."
"Really," said the voice. "And who am I addressing now?"
"Her Captain," said the woman flatly, and, tiring of the charade, she reached up and shoved the blade away from her throat, "Saberjess. Hello, Birdie."
Strong hands seized her shoulders and spun her around so fast that she fell against none other than Captain Jack Sparrow. "Jess!" he cried. "How are you? Captain of your own ship!" Then his expression darkened, and he held her at arm's length, his grip on her shoulders painfully tight. "Why did you fire on the Pearl if you knew it was me?"
"I didn't know it was you," Jess replied, rubbing the cut on her throat. "I've been after Barbossa for months now. I hope you got him with your single shot?"
Jack gave her a smile that was all teeth and in no way pleasant. "I did indeed. Cornered him on the Isla de Muerta. Killed him all by me onesy- shot him right in the heart, savvy?" He thumped a hand off his own chest to demonstrate.
Jess nodded, satisfied, then her expression grew contemplative, and she asked, "Did he, ah, say anything as he died?"
Jack's expression grew closed, his dark eyes wary. "Why might ye be askin' me that, now?"
Jess folded her arms across her chest. "Tell your crew to lower their weapons and I'll tell ye."
Jack smacked his forehead in comic dismay, and flapped a hand impatiently at his crew, who lowered their rifles and stood watching, their curiosity plain to see. Jess half-bowed her thanks, and said, "It's just that I warned him, warned him what happens to men who die a traitor's death."
Jack's expression cleared somewhat, and he said, "Aye... He said he felt cold. Dunno if that means anything to ye."
Jess turned a wicked grin loose on him, and replied, "It means much, nay, everything to me." Jack continued to look vaguely puzzled, so Jess elaborated, "The deepest circle of Hell is icy cold, Jack. Barbossa and his crew will freeze for all eternity; the fate of traitors and mutineers."
Jack shivered, and quickly changed the subject. "If yer interested, we can leave the ships lashed together for th' night. My crew 'n yours might like to have a bit of fun, savvy? Besides," he added, flashing her what he seemed to think was an irresistible grin, "We have some catching up to do, and I have a business opportunity for you."
"Very well, Birdie, we'll do that."
Jack scowled, and muttered under his breath, "That's Captain Birdie to you, wench."