A
Pirates of the Caribbean
Tale
Disclaimer: I don't own POTC or any of the characters from the movie. However, any helpless town folk scurrying around, a ship or two and anything that isn't in the movie: it's mine. Back off. Liska is my own creation so please respect that. I'm only borrowing Barbossa, because he's cute and cuddly and I'll hug him and love him and shower him with love…*ahems* I mean I'm only borrowing him and the quote from Loony Toons…
Summary: Barbossa was shot and killed by Jack Sparrow. He should, by all means, be gone and done with, yet because of the curse, a mix-up occurred in Heaven, Hell, and Fiddler's Green. He's now a 'returnable', trying to find the answer to a question. Yet first, he has to discover what the question is in order to have it answered.
Other: Hey, Softbrush here! The proceeding chapter takes place after the movie. The day or two after they all sail back to Port Royal and Jack's death sentence is 'carried out' yet he escapes. A bit of humour may arise and a few familiar faces appear.
I was a little concerned about the ending of this chapter, simply ending it right there where it stopped. However, I decided I'd just add a wee bit more to next chapter.
Oh, and on a side note, I got the POTC soundtrack on Wednesday and haven't stopped listening to it. It's really great; Klaus Badelt did an excellent job composing. I love song number seven best, myself. My instrumental strings class and the band class, we're getting together and for our school's Christmas concert, we're going to play it. ; ) get a great part with my lovely violin (mainly because I've taken lessons for ever…") as *ba ba da baaaa!* Concert Master! Waho! We're also playing songs number eight, and maybe two more songs (for those of us that are in Grade Nine Strings yet the teacher decided we're good enough for Grade Ten strings). Our teacher knows Klaus Badelt (and she's a POTC fan like us ;] )! So, that's why we're doing a few of the songs.
Kick-ass, yo! *does a little dance*
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Paws, Claws and Ringed Tails
I awoke the next morning with my head in considerable pain, and I quickly felt the urge to throw up. I struggled to my feet and only managed to crawl a few feet before dropping the short distance onto my chest and stomach, and proceeding to throw up in the cold water. I felt the dampness set into my face as I let it fall into the liquid, not caring I might suffocate-I was dead, why should I have had to worry. And then I realized…I felt. I still felt. And something else tugged at my tail.
I had a tail! That immediately set alarm into my system and I let out a startled squeak into the water. I turned my neck and sharply whirled my head around to get a glimpse at myself, the fluid dripping off of my scruffy chin. My sides were a dark shade of grey and my back was a lighter shade. Where the single braid in my hair had always dangled down to my shoulder blades, the fur was incredibly smooth and didn't look so 'wildlife'-like, regardless that it was slightly longer and resembled a rodent-sized horse's mane. My slightly bushy tail had six black rings in it (ironically the number of rings I always wore on my hands) and an actual golden band around it's mid-section. My digigrade hind legs were grey, yet from the ankle down they were a penetrating midnight.
I squealed in a terrified tone and quickly found a spot of water that I hadn't polluted with my sickness. My face…Grey fur covered it, furry and slightly pointy cheeks greeted me. My eyes…they were still blue yet slightly more oval shaped, and surrounded by a fury mask of abyss-like black. My hands, now paws and lacking an opposable thumb, were black from the wrist down and I couldn't help but notice thin white lines stretching around my left fingers and wrist where my glove had been and the fingers had been cut off. A slightly reddish-brown line cut where my engagement ring should have been. Rounded black ears, my right one still pierced and my painted shark-tooth earring dangling in it (surprisingly, it seemed to be atomically correct due to my shrunken size), were pinned back against my head and I couldn't help but notice a few small nicks and slits in them. They reminded me of my hat! A small scruffy bit of fur sat on my forehead a bit above my eyes, slightly untidy as though they hadn't been brushed in a while.
I looked around myself in disbelief. How could this have happened? I reflected what Grim had asked me about having a favourite animal. Then I recalled I was a Returnable and had a question that needed an answer before my 'soul could move on'.
I reared up on my hind legs and over-balanced, thus falling backwards. Something around my neck became tight and I heard a quiet rustling sound. I looked down my pointed black, damp nose at a pine green bandana tied around my neck, the knot resting over my collarbone. Or my chest, I couldn't figure it out due to such a drastic change.
In shock I stared at it, then held my neck to the side to stare stupidly at some colour contrast. Gold letters, the thread stitched neatly into the cloth in Gothic calligraphy, spelled out 'Barbossa'. I rolled over onto my stomach, leapt up on my hind feet, only to fall again in my surprise.
I was a raccoon. Inconvenient, embarrassing, and a quadruped. I shakily rose on my four feet, attempting to not fall again. I succeeded, and took my first steps as an animal: moving a few feet away from the water. My tail clunked into something behind me and I whirled around, once again sighting my dead human figure.
I raced towards the stone chest of golden medallions, glaring wickedly at myself as I backed my own back against the chest. Then I remembered it was I. I was there, and here at the same time. I figured it out rather quickly. I was to live on, yet my human body was dead and could not walk around or anything.
"Oh no," I murmured; yet it came out as an odd grumbling sound. I couldn't talk anymore. I was a beast, literally. An animal I had become, and ironically into a raccoon, baring the infamous thief mask and sly, tricky attitude. I wondered if I had rabies-I was tempted to bite somebody. Unfortunately, nobody but me was around.
I wanted out of the cave, yet was sacred to move. However, starring at my dead former self was not a comfort. I left the cave, feeling things with my paws as I went. My tail brushed plants and rocks, and water, and I constantly shivered regardless of my newly acquired fur.
An hour passed of me exploring the rocky beaches and rocks of Isle de Muerta, and only when I returned once again to the cave did I see Jack. Jack the monkey, that is. He was sitting back upon the stone chest, glaring at the threshold to the cavern and the passage of water that ran from it.
I walked over to him, now very much having the hang of walking like a racoon. I had discovered easier ways to walk, such as on my toes and completely opposite legs moving together. He screeched and leapt down off the chest, the piece of Aztec gold no longer it his self-inflicted wounded hand, yet lying back in the chest with monkey blood all over it.
He ran past me and somewhere else, yet I took that opportunity to use my new nerves. My rounded yet slightly pointed black ears perked up and I couldn't help but snicker. I had known pirates who could twitch their ears at will, and had a conjured image of what they would think if they became animals.
I stood upon my hand legs and continued twitching my ears back and forth, trying to hear what had startled Jack. Then, after only moments, I heard the distant sound of water lapping against the side of a boat.
Sniffing the air, I absently caught the rancid and magnified smell of sweat, salt water and men, all mingled together. It was indeed horrible. I wrinkled my nose and tried to breath through my mouth, yet discovered it wasn't as easy as it had been when I was a human. The air tasted stale and was close together. It was very dense.
Ten minutes passed and a few small rowboats with five men dressed in British Navy uniforms sitting in each one emerged from the cavern's entry passage. Their boats scraped against the rocks and their voices were those of awe as they looked around at all the loot my crew and myself had taken over ten years. A few even were so bold as to stuff the treasure into their own pockets.
"Well well, looks like these pirates did damn well," a man commented to his friend, who chuckled appreciatively. They began taking burlap sacks from their boat and loading them up and piling them into their boat.
"Recovering the treasure, Norrington told us to do. Hah, he's probably going to keep some of it," another sailor commented dirtily, and I sprang to attention. They were recovering treasure. They were taking it away from the island…
I was going with them! I made up my mind right then and there that I would hop into one of their rowboats and take a ride back to wherever they were going.
"Now, he said not to take anything from the stone chest," the same sailor pointed up to the stone chest and Aztec gold medallions. I tensed, and felt the muscled in my shoulder shudder I stilled so hard. I watched and became surprised as no man neared the chest.
A good two hours later the boats were loaded and the men scrambled inside, chatting about how they would have to take a few more trips back and forth, ignoring how low the boats had sunk in the water. I seized my opportunity and surprised even myself at the speed I showed while running.
A sailor pointed at me and I stopped in my tracks, starring up at them with blinking eyes.
"It's a racoon," one commented and a few whispers went up among the sailors. "They aren't supposed to be here, are they?" "Maybe it's a stolen pet…"
Moments flew by and finally a few of the navy men tried to coax me forward as though I was a real racoon. They lowered their voices to soothing tones and snapped their fingers, some clapped their knees with their hands, and others held out their hands as though they had food.
I snorted and reared upon my hind legs, trying to find the rowboat with the most treasure. There! I scurried forwards to it and just as I was about to reach it, I was scooped up into a firm hold of an officer.
"I've got it men. We'll look around for more of this animal's kind next trip."
The blighter didn't let me go the entire boat ride regardless of my struggles. I kicked and clawed, snapped and hissed; yet he still held me under an arm, tightening his hold painfully sometimes.
The boats were hoisted aboard a navy ship, and I caught the name of the boat, HMS Guarder I read and couldn't help but sneer at the name. When the boats were hoisted up and secured, and the treasure unloaded, the officer showed me off to a few other men, explaining how I 'came right to him as though I knew he'd protect me from the gripping hands of the more greedy sailors'. I hissed yet was chuckled at. The man, whose name I came to know as Lieutenant Gillette, intended to keep me as a pet. I discovered myself hissing a lot more that night.
I was locked in the officer's quarters for the remainder of the journey. However, I did get my revenge. I took a liking to 'marking my territory' on all their beds. I was constantly punished and missed all my meals, however. Frankly, it was worth it.
Two nights later the Guarder docked and I was (at last) allowed out of the bloody cabin. I roamed free over the ship, scurrying around and discovering new uses for my claws. One such use as climbing up the rigging and ropes, and attaching myself to the lower parts of a few sails. I was actually quite the nuisance.
After a few minutes of being yelled at to come down, a sailor muttered something that my ears caught. "We make one stop in Port Vulpes to get a few supplies and the bloody 'coon uses it as a vacation…"
Port Vulpes. I felt my fingers go numb and my claws realise from the fabric of the sails. I plummeted down a few feet and landed in the ready arms of a sailor. After being set down, I sat myself up and claimed a friendly corner on the deck.
We were going to Port Vulpes…I thought about my time here. Liska, and the escapade we put ourselves through. I wondered if she still lived there, or if she was even still alive. I wanted to see her. However, there was a slight drawback.
I was a raccoon.
Three nights later we arrived at the dreaded port. I slept on the ship when we arrived (as gathering supplies always seemed to take so bloody long with the British navy we were staying for the night) with my tail curled around me, admiring the gentle rocking of the ship. It was awkward, my curled tail, yet I was warmer then I knew I would have been if stretched out. The ring around my tail was still there, though my fur had brushed over it and nearly covered it up completely.
The moonlight glinted off it and I found myself expecting to see skeletal features, rotting clothes and decaying skin. Yet the curse never came back to strike me again. I was grateful, if not a little disturbed. Ten years of being cursed in that way had rather braced me for anything, yet not this.
I flicked my tail, trying to see if it was indeed real. I combed my ears with my paws, and then nuzzled my fur with my nose. It wasn't a dream. I was a raccoon. I was dead. I was a Returnable.
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*snickers and plays song number Ten from the POTC soundtrack and lets it play throughout the chapter* MUWAhahahahahahahaha-coughchokespluttergag-hahaha!
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Cmdr. Gabe E: Yes, I know the adjustment for his goin' all sentimental and crap, but look at his vocabulary! *sobs* ; ) Anyways, he was drunk, remember? ; ) Okay, okay, though he was drunk, the heartless scruffy bastard (you get cookies for being so creative with your insults!) simply took note of the antics the couple were playing at and went with it. I can't really describe love without making it sound like a horrible cliché.
Oh! To soon you think, eh? Well, in the movie Gibbs said "Three days out on the venture", and before that, "Not much is known about Jack Sparrow before he turned up in Tortuga…" So I simply went with that. I didn't see the friendship in the movie. And I am forced to quote Barbossa here, that "That's the kind of attitude that lost you the Pearl…" so wouldn't Barbossa have said something to Jack about disagreeing with him and everything if they were friends for such a long while?
Barbossa's back-story (which you can find on the Official POTC website) said he was a man of the sea before he went pirate, and thus because of his age, he had experience in the ocean and on a ship, aye? Aye. Plus, if they were friends for such a super-long time, Jack would have known about Barbossa's skills and found even more reason to appoint him to First Mate.
Okay, hope that made sense to you and justified my actions. Thanks for still reading! I appreciate your comments.