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. . .
Eight . The Search for a Bigger Hat
"Old friends?" India asked. She and Jack had managed to drag their bruised bodies within speaking distance of each other.
"Not very good ones," Jack replied. "We've a rather long and unpleasant history behind us - and I'm not bloody pleased that he has decided to prance back in to my life. Let's just say."
"You'll just say nothing," a burly member of Hawke's crew warned, finding that they were speaking to each other, and raising a fist in threat. "Shut yer yap an' get back to where you're 'apposed to be," he suggested. Obediently Jack began to shuffle his way back down the beach. India stayed where she was, but stopped trying to have a conversation.
Sulking as Hawke's men watched over him, Jack desperately searched his foggy pirate mind for some way to escape. He had been working at his bonds for a while - since they had been tied, in fact; but the knots were still holding firm. What he needed was a sharp object . and he couldn't see anything in close proximity that might help.
Jack looked down the beach, straining to see any trace of the other crew. When he saw that their fire had been put out, hope flared momentarily before it, too, dulled. They were all probably asleep. With an exaggerated sigh, he resigned himself to staring out at the ocean. If he had any rum, he thought, he wouldn't notice the pain so much. He might have been able to pull through. But Captain Jack Sparrow at the moment did not have any rum. What was there left to do? He had already sighed, so the next thing on the list was to act stupid and risk being slapped across the face. He mentally scratched a line through that option. His face, at the moment, did not particularly want to be hit. So he sat and waited, caught between lulling into a dazed state and remaining alert enough to try cringe away if Hawke decided to show up again.
His head was nodding toward his chest when his senses told him that there was movement in the darkness. As he became more aware of what was happening around him, he realized that they were under attack! Well, not himself specifically, but Hawke's pirate colleagues seemed to be suffering from some sort of ambush. Jack watched the general chaos, unable to join in or get away. The sounds of shouts and metal clanging and scraping along metal filled the air. He tried to count the number of forms, or identify any of them, but they were moving too erratically in the dim light. The pale sliver of a waxing moon emerged from behind a wisp of clouds, but offered little illumination to the scene. At least, Jack comforted himself, these men didn't seem to suffer from a similar sort of curse as that which had befallen the members of the Pearl. "Ouf!"
A particularly greasy pirate fell, wounded, over Jack. Trying to fight down his disgust, Jack seized the opportunity to take the bloke's cutlass and cut the ropes binding his own hands together. Luckily he had a lot of practice with that exact thing, and managed to wriggle around and contort his body in order to use his hands, which were tied together, to grasp the sword and delicately break free.
After succeeding in escaping from the ropes, he shoved the body off of himself, and scuttled over to help India, who had not been so fortunate as to have someone fall overtop of her.
Without so much as a word of thanks, she sprung to her feet. They took in the scene of what was happening around them, then glanced at each other, and mutually agreed to desert the fighting as quickly as possible.
"Hopefully they're too busy fighting to notice," India whispered harshly as they turned to creep away. Someone blocked their path, though his back was turned and he was busily fighting someone else. Jack stared for a full five seconds before India had removed her boot and knocked the man over the head. Jack, finally reacting, drew his sword and sparred with the now-unconscious man's opponent. After a few desperate slashes, the other man gained the upper hand, grazing Jack's arm and drawing blood. Jack yelled out in pain. India, having skirted around Hawke's man, tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face her in question, and India punched him in the face. He reeled around from the impact, and Jack whacked him with the hilt of his sword, shoving him out of the way.
Grabbing hold of India's arm with his uninjured hand, Jack led her into the shelter of the ferns, bushes and palm trees away from the beach. Once they were out of sight, he paused, dropping her arm to clamp a hand over his own wounded arm. India turned with a worried expression, glancing back to make sure that no one was following them. She grabbed Jack and urged him to keep going.
"Come on," she said, "Let's get further away before we decide to dawdle."
Jack grimaced at her, then assented, and they both fought their way deeper into the trees.
"We need to find somewhere sheltered," India said as they ran through the undergrowth.
"There's a bay . on the other side of the island," Jack replied, out of breath.
India nodded, catching Jack as he stumbled over vines and roots. He glared at her begrudgingly to let her know that he didn't want any help, or that he did not want to admit that he wasn't able to run in a straight line without tripping.
Finally they emerged onto the beach on the opposite side of the island. The sea was dark and the beach was quiet and secluded. Jack walked down the shore a little, trying to catch a glimpse of the bay and get his bearings, then gave up and dropped down unceremoniously on the sand. He cradled his arm tenderly, awkwardly ripping off a strip of cloth from his shirt to bind the cut.
"Hold on, let me help you with that," India offered quietly. Jack was struggling to tie the bandage with one hand and his teeth. India's fingers took the cloth while Jack squirmed away.
"I'm all right," he protested, "I can manage by me onesy, thanks."
"Jack," she said firmly. He looked from his arm to her face, and held her stare.
He wavered, then inadvertently narrowed his eyes. "It's Captain Jack," he reiterated.
"Of course, Captain," she said, obliging his silly request. He must suffer from some sort of inferiority complex, India thought with a touch of pity. And the cut on his arm was deeper than she had initially thought. The sleeve of his light shirt was stained dark with blood. Jack swore and tried to pull away as she undid the bandage to examine the wound more closely.
"It looks painful," she commented.
Jack smiled condescendingly. "I've 'ad worse," he said, unsuccessfully masking the strain of keeping his voice at an even tone.
"If it helps," she confided, speaking softly, "I haven't, so don't worry about trying to impress me. We're not competing for the nastiest scrapes. I know you're a tough old sea dog and all that. But Jack." He looked as if he were going to remind her again that it was 'Captain,' so she shook her head and went back to tying the piece of cloth around his arm. Why did he always need to be so withdrawn and armoured? She wondered how much of his character was just an act to protect himself and hide who he really was.
"They're going to catch up with us quickly, I'll wager," she said, trying to change the subject.
"Not if they weren't following us," he pointed out, reclaiming his arm and holding it protectively against his chest.
"They'll come looking," she insisted. "When we're not there, they'll think that we know something, and they'll hunt us down."
"Do we know something?" Jack asked.
India thought about it for a moment, but remained silent.
Jack changed the question. "Do you know something?"
India looked away.
"Where's the treasure?" Jack asked finally.
"You told me not to tell," she said coyly.
"Well, now I'm asking you to tell me," Jack urged.
"I'm following directions from a map."
"Where is it?"
"It's from my father's journal," she informed him.
"Where's your father's journal, then?" he tried, becoming irritated at the way she skirted the issue.
"The map isn't there anymore, if that's what you mean," she said.
"Well, where is the map?" he asked one last time, his tone dangerously annoyed.
"I burned it."
"You BURNED it?!"
She nodded.
There was dead silence. One . Two . Three . Jack tried to wrap his mind around the concept, but was too stunned to speak for several seconds.
"Why?" he asked, dumbfounded. It was something he might have done, but he hadn't expected it from this girl.
"So as to not be left behind once you found out where it was." She looked both upset and embarrassed.
His glare softened a little.
"Oh. India, love, I wouldn't leave you behind!" He went to wrap his arm around her but she moved away.
"Watch where you're setting your hands, Jack," she warned.
He backed off, his hand poised theatrically open in surrender. "I'm watching, love. Believe me," he muttered, then lowered his hand to his side. Captain Jack Sparrow, however, was not a man to sit idly for long. He twiddled his fingers, then stood up determinedly, holding his wounded arm as still as possible. Without a word, he marched unevenly away.
India watched his swagger for several heartbeats before calling out a protest.
"Where are you going now, Jack Sparrow?" she called, half angrily and half in exasperation.
He turned, lifted his chin to glare at her, and began speaking. "I'm going -" he began to flail his arms wide to illustrate his point, then painfully remembered the gash on his arm, swore, and brought his arm quickly back to his chest. Absorbed in biting his tongue to keep from crying out, he didn't continue his sentence.
India put a hand to her temples, then got to her feet. "I'm coming with you," she proclaimed. Someone needed to keep that pirate out of trouble.
He looked up from his arm and glared at her some more, then turned and kept walking in acceptance. At least she took it to mean that he had no quarrel with her following him.
They neared the inlet, and Jack warily eyed the jutting rock from which he had fallen.
"Fifty paces," she muttered from behind him.
"What?" Jack asked, turning around to face her.
"North . from the stone on the bay to the next landmark."
He stared at her for a minute.
"Beg your pardon?"
"It all makes sense," she continued to no one in particular but presumably to herself, "The inlet, the rock . there should be a stream farther on ." she trailed off.
"What in the name of all creation are you on about now?" he asked, half sighing, half exasperated.
"Me thinks this is the island where the treasure's buried," she said, sliding into pirate-speak.
"Of course," he said, smiling patronizingly. "When was the last time you had some sleep? Because if it's been a while I suggest we have a little lay-down while you catch your senses, right love?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, I do not like either of the implications that you are making with that speech."
"Now, India. Let's not draw conclusions 'afore we've counted all our coins," he raised a finger in warning, and smiled a small smile.
"I think you're missing a few, Jack Sparrow. And I suggest you find them for my benefit if not for your own. Because if I have to spend several more hours on this sodding island with a pirate who can't even keep his trousers on or his wits straight ."
"What, love?" Jack asked, obviously anticipating some clever conclusion.
India shook her head. "I've got better things to do," she said, and walked away.
"Oy!" he called. "Hang on."
"What?" she asked, not turning. "Are you going to start being useful, or just continue being a blathering idiot?"
Jack fought to keep his cool. "If I'm bein' a blathering idiot it likely has something to do with the fact that you're ."
"That I'm what?" she asked, stopping in her tracks and turning to face him, her expression daring him to continue.
"That you're ." Jack exhaled. A woman? "Completely and utterly wrong about anything you think I may be suggesting with what I said, all right? I take it back - I mean, I didn't mean it in the first place, savvy? You're a very unattractive girl, and I couldn't be more pleased if you never slept again and I have to put up with your complaints 'til the day we leave this island. And I'm jealous of your hat. There. Are you happy?"
She certainly didn't seem to be.
"Look, it's more trouble than you're worth," he explained.
She glared as though she could burn holes through him with her eyes. "I mean you're more trouble than it's worth," he corrected himself, but this didn't seem to help. "I'm going to shut me mouth now," he assured her.
"I'll believe it when I see it," she said, completely disgusted with him, but on the verge of giving up. There was no hope for this sorry excuse of a pirate. No wonder her father had marooned him. Likely couldn't stand the man. India reached the rock, then spun around a couple times, trying to decide which way was north. Unlike her more experienced pirate companion, she had no idea which way it might happen to be. "You have a compass, don't you?" she demanded angrily, spinning to face him.
"Won't help us here," he answered, standing several paces away.
"Why not?" she asked.
"It doesn't point north," he explained.
"What kind of a stupid useless pirate carries around a compass that doesn't work?" she asked hotly.
"Doesn't point north," he repeated defensively.
"Whatever."
"It just so happens that I don't need a compass," he gloated.
"Good thing," she muttered, then continued, "Why not? Are you magical now too? The great all-powerful Jack Sparrow?"
"Has a certain ring to it, don't you think?" he grinned, then said, "Any good sailor knows how to use the stars to find his way."
She pondered this, and her scowl disappeared momentarily. "There might be hope for you yet," she said, then added, "Though I wouldn't bet on it." After a skeptical glance, she motioned for him to demonstrate his navigational powers. "Lead on, Captain."
He hmphed and gazed up at the sky to find his direction, then began striding forward determinedly, carefully counting his paces.
"Fifty, you said?" he asked. His inhibitions seemed to disappear, and there was a glowing confidence and excitement surrounding him. The prospect of treasure always seemed to cheer him up.
"Fifty," she agreed.
Jack stepped deliberately forward, and India trotted behind him, carefully keeping count in case he got lost.
"Forty-eight, forty-nine . fifty," he spoke. As India had promised, they had roughly arrived at a stream that ran across their path.
Jack looked back at India with no hint of remorse for doubting her. India beamed at him victoriously.
Begrudgingly, he asked, "All right, what are the next directions?"
"Why Jack, I thought I wasn't supposed to give directions. And to you, nonetheless?" Her voice was laden with false innocence. Now that she had piqued his interest, she was more than willing to torture him. After all this time that he had doubted her, she felt that at least she deserved an apology, if not to have him groveling at her feet. "What does a silly girl like me know?" she added.
Jack looked skyward. "All right. You're allowed to give directions just this once. They're not really orders, are they? More . guidelines to finding treasure."
India tapped her foot. "Not good enough, Jack," she said. "Thanks for pointing out north," she continued. "Now it will be a lot easier to find my own way."
"What is it that you expect me to do?" he asked with an unimpressed sigh. Was she threatening to find the treasure without him?
"Repeat after me," she instructed. "I, Jack Sparrow," she waited for him to say the words.
Hesitantly he complied. "I, CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow." She kept going. "Relinquish command to Miss India Barbossa until which time as she decides to be incredibly kind and let me have a chance at being captain again."
Jack stared at her for a full two seconds before blinking. They both knew he would never comply. "Just give me the bloody directions," he said.
"West, one hundred and twenty-seven paces along the river bed. There's supposed to be a shallow arroyo," India said begrudgingly.
Jack pointed the way with a wave of his good arm, allowing India to take the lead. They followed the stream roughly west for about eighty paces before it veered sharply south.
"Do we follow the river or keep going west?" she asked, sounding worried.
Jack shrugged. "I'll trust your judgement, love. You're the one with the map, after all. Streams can change their course a great deal over a season, let alone however many years ago this map of your father's was written," he pointed out.
"But do you think we should follow the river or continue westward?" she repeated.
"I think," Jack began, carefully studying both routes, "We should toss a coin."
"Toss a coin?" India practically hollered. "Do you have any sense, Jack? This is not the time for wagers and luck!"
"On the contrary. This is exactly the opportune moment for such a decision." Jack fished around in his pocket, finally drawing out a rough silver coin. He held it out between his thumb and forefinger, turning it to show India both sides. "One side, our old mate George, on the other side a lovely sort of crest. Crest, we follow the river, George, we go west."
"Why not the other way around?" India asked.
"Because," he said, then paused for a moment, trying to come up with an answer. Narrowing his eyes, he fixed his attention back on the coin, tossed it in the air, then caught it and placed it on the back of his hand. "George," he proclaimed, then looked across the stream. There were no visible signs that the water had ever delved along a straight westward path. "Let's follow the river," he said, changing his mind.
India looked at him in confusion. "I will never understand you, Jack Sparrow," she muttered. They continued alongside the stream. For another twenty paces it continued south, then meandered back to a westward direction. The stream began to deepen and the land to either side rose, creating a gully of four or five feet. Farther westward it became even deeper, perhaps cutting a dozen or so feet into the rock.
"There's your arroyo, love. Now what?" Jack asked.
India barely acknowledged the fact that his decision to follow the river seemed to have been the right one.
"What would you do with the treasure, Jack?" she asked.
He thought for a short time before smiling. "I would buy a hat. A really big one. And some rum."
"Anything else?" she asked. "It seems like such a waste."
"Some boots and a new jacket," he said, referring to the items he had shed when trying to swim ashore. "Let me tell you something I've learned," he began in a fond tone. "One of the very beautiful things about treasure, India, is having it. Not spending it," Jack explained. "What would you do?"
She answered right away. "I don't know. I've never had money before. My father never sent anything home to his wife and child-" she cut herself off. Changing the subject quickly, she said, "We're to travel eighteen paces north . which I suppose means we have to cross the river."
Jack tilted his head backwards in tension. "Right."
Visually memorizing the area, Jack wandered a way back down the edge of the stream to where the sides were less tall and steep, then stepped in and trudged across, the water reaching well past his knees. India, before following, took off her boots, tossing them to Jack, and rolled up her trousers. She emerged on the other side, letting the water drip-dry off her lower body.
Jack noticed her legs, and India noticed that Jack noticed. She quickly dried them off with her shirt sleeves pulled over her hands, then unrolled her trousers again, glaring at him defensively.
"Don't think I did that for your viewing pleasure, Jack Sparrow," she said warningly.
"I would only dream of it, love," he replied with a sly smile. "You're far too respectable for the likes of me."
She exhaled angrily, reclaimed her boots, and pulled them on. Jack headed back to the point on the arroyo where they would have crossed had it not been too deep, turned to face north, then began counting his steps. At eighteen, he stopped and looked around.
"What now?" he asked. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary; there was no landmark to indicate that they were travelling in the right direction.
"Uh ." India began. Jack spun around to look at her. "In actual fact, we're supposed to travel . eighteen paces back south," she admitted.
"So back to the river?" he asked.
"Well . I suppose so, except it says 'under,'" she added.
"Under ." he repeated. He looked around, then went to throw his hands in the air in exasperation, but was again reminded of his wounded arm. He uttered a curse, then tried to divert his thoughts. "Exactly how long ago would you say this map is from?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," she said. "The first mention of it was in an entry about ten years ago."
So many things could have changed since then, Jack thought. Small trees could now be full-grown, old trees could be dead and rotted. Rocks might prove constant markers, but he could see none of consequence in the area. Under?
"Of course, he said that he added to the treasure up until four or five years ago. Half of the loot went here, the other half was divided between payments to his crew, and another island."
"De la Muerta," Jack breathed.
"Hmm? Yes, that might have been the name."
Jack wandered the area, searching for anything out of the ordinary. In five years, the undergrowth could have completely changed. Remembering the cache underground that the rum-runners had used on his small two-time marooned-upon island, he decided to test a theory. He jumped, being careful of his bare feet, to check for springy ground. After several minutes of searching, he found what he was looking for. There was an uneven section of ground that felt hollow. He knelt down, examining the area with one hand while protecting the other in an attempt to not disturb the cut on his arm. He tore aside the dead vines, moss, and dirt to reveal a densely knit matting of some sort. He stepped back.
"Help me with this, will you love?" he asked, again, kneeling to lift the covering, which was about four feet in length and width. India complied. With some difficulty, because the vines had woven themselves together with it, they lifted the trap-door-like device. Beneath it was a dark hole, not much smaller than the covering, the sides supported by logs and branches.
"It looks like a tunnel," Jack observed, peering down into the darkness.
"Gosh Jack, you might have actually done something useful for once," India admitted. Her comment failed to elicit a response. "Are we going down there?" she asked.
He looked over at her and smiled.
Under.
. . .
Eight . The Search for a Bigger Hat
"Old friends?" India asked. She and Jack had managed to drag their bruised bodies within speaking distance of each other.
"Not very good ones," Jack replied. "We've a rather long and unpleasant history behind us - and I'm not bloody pleased that he has decided to prance back in to my life. Let's just say."
"You'll just say nothing," a burly member of Hawke's crew warned, finding that they were speaking to each other, and raising a fist in threat. "Shut yer yap an' get back to where you're 'apposed to be," he suggested. Obediently Jack began to shuffle his way back down the beach. India stayed where she was, but stopped trying to have a conversation.
Sulking as Hawke's men watched over him, Jack desperately searched his foggy pirate mind for some way to escape. He had been working at his bonds for a while - since they had been tied, in fact; but the knots were still holding firm. What he needed was a sharp object . and he couldn't see anything in close proximity that might help.
Jack looked down the beach, straining to see any trace of the other crew. When he saw that their fire had been put out, hope flared momentarily before it, too, dulled. They were all probably asleep. With an exaggerated sigh, he resigned himself to staring out at the ocean. If he had any rum, he thought, he wouldn't notice the pain so much. He might have been able to pull through. But Captain Jack Sparrow at the moment did not have any rum. What was there left to do? He had already sighed, so the next thing on the list was to act stupid and risk being slapped across the face. He mentally scratched a line through that option. His face, at the moment, did not particularly want to be hit. So he sat and waited, caught between lulling into a dazed state and remaining alert enough to try cringe away if Hawke decided to show up again.
His head was nodding toward his chest when his senses told him that there was movement in the darkness. As he became more aware of what was happening around him, he realized that they were under attack! Well, not himself specifically, but Hawke's pirate colleagues seemed to be suffering from some sort of ambush. Jack watched the general chaos, unable to join in or get away. The sounds of shouts and metal clanging and scraping along metal filled the air. He tried to count the number of forms, or identify any of them, but they were moving too erratically in the dim light. The pale sliver of a waxing moon emerged from behind a wisp of clouds, but offered little illumination to the scene. At least, Jack comforted himself, these men didn't seem to suffer from a similar sort of curse as that which had befallen the members of the Pearl. "Ouf!"
A particularly greasy pirate fell, wounded, over Jack. Trying to fight down his disgust, Jack seized the opportunity to take the bloke's cutlass and cut the ropes binding his own hands together. Luckily he had a lot of practice with that exact thing, and managed to wriggle around and contort his body in order to use his hands, which were tied together, to grasp the sword and delicately break free.
After succeeding in escaping from the ropes, he shoved the body off of himself, and scuttled over to help India, who had not been so fortunate as to have someone fall overtop of her.
Without so much as a word of thanks, she sprung to her feet. They took in the scene of what was happening around them, then glanced at each other, and mutually agreed to desert the fighting as quickly as possible.
"Hopefully they're too busy fighting to notice," India whispered harshly as they turned to creep away. Someone blocked their path, though his back was turned and he was busily fighting someone else. Jack stared for a full five seconds before India had removed her boot and knocked the man over the head. Jack, finally reacting, drew his sword and sparred with the now-unconscious man's opponent. After a few desperate slashes, the other man gained the upper hand, grazing Jack's arm and drawing blood. Jack yelled out in pain. India, having skirted around Hawke's man, tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face her in question, and India punched him in the face. He reeled around from the impact, and Jack whacked him with the hilt of his sword, shoving him out of the way.
Grabbing hold of India's arm with his uninjured hand, Jack led her into the shelter of the ferns, bushes and palm trees away from the beach. Once they were out of sight, he paused, dropping her arm to clamp a hand over his own wounded arm. India turned with a worried expression, glancing back to make sure that no one was following them. She grabbed Jack and urged him to keep going.
"Come on," she said, "Let's get further away before we decide to dawdle."
Jack grimaced at her, then assented, and they both fought their way deeper into the trees.
"We need to find somewhere sheltered," India said as they ran through the undergrowth.
"There's a bay . on the other side of the island," Jack replied, out of breath.
India nodded, catching Jack as he stumbled over vines and roots. He glared at her begrudgingly to let her know that he didn't want any help, or that he did not want to admit that he wasn't able to run in a straight line without tripping.
Finally they emerged onto the beach on the opposite side of the island. The sea was dark and the beach was quiet and secluded. Jack walked down the shore a little, trying to catch a glimpse of the bay and get his bearings, then gave up and dropped down unceremoniously on the sand. He cradled his arm tenderly, awkwardly ripping off a strip of cloth from his shirt to bind the cut.
"Hold on, let me help you with that," India offered quietly. Jack was struggling to tie the bandage with one hand and his teeth. India's fingers took the cloth while Jack squirmed away.
"I'm all right," he protested, "I can manage by me onesy, thanks."
"Jack," she said firmly. He looked from his arm to her face, and held her stare.
He wavered, then inadvertently narrowed his eyes. "It's Captain Jack," he reiterated.
"Of course, Captain," she said, obliging his silly request. He must suffer from some sort of inferiority complex, India thought with a touch of pity. And the cut on his arm was deeper than she had initially thought. The sleeve of his light shirt was stained dark with blood. Jack swore and tried to pull away as she undid the bandage to examine the wound more closely.
"It looks painful," she commented.
Jack smiled condescendingly. "I've 'ad worse," he said, unsuccessfully masking the strain of keeping his voice at an even tone.
"If it helps," she confided, speaking softly, "I haven't, so don't worry about trying to impress me. We're not competing for the nastiest scrapes. I know you're a tough old sea dog and all that. But Jack." He looked as if he were going to remind her again that it was 'Captain,' so she shook her head and went back to tying the piece of cloth around his arm. Why did he always need to be so withdrawn and armoured? She wondered how much of his character was just an act to protect himself and hide who he really was.
"They're going to catch up with us quickly, I'll wager," she said, trying to change the subject.
"Not if they weren't following us," he pointed out, reclaiming his arm and holding it protectively against his chest.
"They'll come looking," she insisted. "When we're not there, they'll think that we know something, and they'll hunt us down."
"Do we know something?" Jack asked.
India thought about it for a moment, but remained silent.
Jack changed the question. "Do you know something?"
India looked away.
"Where's the treasure?" Jack asked finally.
"You told me not to tell," she said coyly.
"Well, now I'm asking you to tell me," Jack urged.
"I'm following directions from a map."
"Where is it?"
"It's from my father's journal," she informed him.
"Where's your father's journal, then?" he tried, becoming irritated at the way she skirted the issue.
"The map isn't there anymore, if that's what you mean," she said.
"Well, where is the map?" he asked one last time, his tone dangerously annoyed.
"I burned it."
"You BURNED it?!"
She nodded.
There was dead silence. One . Two . Three . Jack tried to wrap his mind around the concept, but was too stunned to speak for several seconds.
"Why?" he asked, dumbfounded. It was something he might have done, but he hadn't expected it from this girl.
"So as to not be left behind once you found out where it was." She looked both upset and embarrassed.
His glare softened a little.
"Oh. India, love, I wouldn't leave you behind!" He went to wrap his arm around her but she moved away.
"Watch where you're setting your hands, Jack," she warned.
He backed off, his hand poised theatrically open in surrender. "I'm watching, love. Believe me," he muttered, then lowered his hand to his side. Captain Jack Sparrow, however, was not a man to sit idly for long. He twiddled his fingers, then stood up determinedly, holding his wounded arm as still as possible. Without a word, he marched unevenly away.
India watched his swagger for several heartbeats before calling out a protest.
"Where are you going now, Jack Sparrow?" she called, half angrily and half in exasperation.
He turned, lifted his chin to glare at her, and began speaking. "I'm going -" he began to flail his arms wide to illustrate his point, then painfully remembered the gash on his arm, swore, and brought his arm quickly back to his chest. Absorbed in biting his tongue to keep from crying out, he didn't continue his sentence.
India put a hand to her temples, then got to her feet. "I'm coming with you," she proclaimed. Someone needed to keep that pirate out of trouble.
He looked up from his arm and glared at her some more, then turned and kept walking in acceptance. At least she took it to mean that he had no quarrel with her following him.
They neared the inlet, and Jack warily eyed the jutting rock from which he had fallen.
"Fifty paces," she muttered from behind him.
"What?" Jack asked, turning around to face her.
"North . from the stone on the bay to the next landmark."
He stared at her for a minute.
"Beg your pardon?"
"It all makes sense," she continued to no one in particular but presumably to herself, "The inlet, the rock . there should be a stream farther on ." she trailed off.
"What in the name of all creation are you on about now?" he asked, half sighing, half exasperated.
"Me thinks this is the island where the treasure's buried," she said, sliding into pirate-speak.
"Of course," he said, smiling patronizingly. "When was the last time you had some sleep? Because if it's been a while I suggest we have a little lay-down while you catch your senses, right love?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, I do not like either of the implications that you are making with that speech."
"Now, India. Let's not draw conclusions 'afore we've counted all our coins," he raised a finger in warning, and smiled a small smile.
"I think you're missing a few, Jack Sparrow. And I suggest you find them for my benefit if not for your own. Because if I have to spend several more hours on this sodding island with a pirate who can't even keep his trousers on or his wits straight ."
"What, love?" Jack asked, obviously anticipating some clever conclusion.
India shook her head. "I've got better things to do," she said, and walked away.
"Oy!" he called. "Hang on."
"What?" she asked, not turning. "Are you going to start being useful, or just continue being a blathering idiot?"
Jack fought to keep his cool. "If I'm bein' a blathering idiot it likely has something to do with the fact that you're ."
"That I'm what?" she asked, stopping in her tracks and turning to face him, her expression daring him to continue.
"That you're ." Jack exhaled. A woman? "Completely and utterly wrong about anything you think I may be suggesting with what I said, all right? I take it back - I mean, I didn't mean it in the first place, savvy? You're a very unattractive girl, and I couldn't be more pleased if you never slept again and I have to put up with your complaints 'til the day we leave this island. And I'm jealous of your hat. There. Are you happy?"
She certainly didn't seem to be.
"Look, it's more trouble than you're worth," he explained.
She glared as though she could burn holes through him with her eyes. "I mean you're more trouble than it's worth," he corrected himself, but this didn't seem to help. "I'm going to shut me mouth now," he assured her.
"I'll believe it when I see it," she said, completely disgusted with him, but on the verge of giving up. There was no hope for this sorry excuse of a pirate. No wonder her father had marooned him. Likely couldn't stand the man. India reached the rock, then spun around a couple times, trying to decide which way was north. Unlike her more experienced pirate companion, she had no idea which way it might happen to be. "You have a compass, don't you?" she demanded angrily, spinning to face him.
"Won't help us here," he answered, standing several paces away.
"Why not?" she asked.
"It doesn't point north," he explained.
"What kind of a stupid useless pirate carries around a compass that doesn't work?" she asked hotly.
"Doesn't point north," he repeated defensively.
"Whatever."
"It just so happens that I don't need a compass," he gloated.
"Good thing," she muttered, then continued, "Why not? Are you magical now too? The great all-powerful Jack Sparrow?"
"Has a certain ring to it, don't you think?" he grinned, then said, "Any good sailor knows how to use the stars to find his way."
She pondered this, and her scowl disappeared momentarily. "There might be hope for you yet," she said, then added, "Though I wouldn't bet on it." After a skeptical glance, she motioned for him to demonstrate his navigational powers. "Lead on, Captain."
He hmphed and gazed up at the sky to find his direction, then began striding forward determinedly, carefully counting his paces.
"Fifty, you said?" he asked. His inhibitions seemed to disappear, and there was a glowing confidence and excitement surrounding him. The prospect of treasure always seemed to cheer him up.
"Fifty," she agreed.
Jack stepped deliberately forward, and India trotted behind him, carefully keeping count in case he got lost.
"Forty-eight, forty-nine . fifty," he spoke. As India had promised, they had roughly arrived at a stream that ran across their path.
Jack looked back at India with no hint of remorse for doubting her. India beamed at him victoriously.
Begrudgingly, he asked, "All right, what are the next directions?"
"Why Jack, I thought I wasn't supposed to give directions. And to you, nonetheless?" Her voice was laden with false innocence. Now that she had piqued his interest, she was more than willing to torture him. After all this time that he had doubted her, she felt that at least she deserved an apology, if not to have him groveling at her feet. "What does a silly girl like me know?" she added.
Jack looked skyward. "All right. You're allowed to give directions just this once. They're not really orders, are they? More . guidelines to finding treasure."
India tapped her foot. "Not good enough, Jack," she said. "Thanks for pointing out north," she continued. "Now it will be a lot easier to find my own way."
"What is it that you expect me to do?" he asked with an unimpressed sigh. Was she threatening to find the treasure without him?
"Repeat after me," she instructed. "I, Jack Sparrow," she waited for him to say the words.
Hesitantly he complied. "I, CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow." She kept going. "Relinquish command to Miss India Barbossa until which time as she decides to be incredibly kind and let me have a chance at being captain again."
Jack stared at her for a full two seconds before blinking. They both knew he would never comply. "Just give me the bloody directions," he said.
"West, one hundred and twenty-seven paces along the river bed. There's supposed to be a shallow arroyo," India said begrudgingly.
Jack pointed the way with a wave of his good arm, allowing India to take the lead. They followed the stream roughly west for about eighty paces before it veered sharply south.
"Do we follow the river or keep going west?" she asked, sounding worried.
Jack shrugged. "I'll trust your judgement, love. You're the one with the map, after all. Streams can change their course a great deal over a season, let alone however many years ago this map of your father's was written," he pointed out.
"But do you think we should follow the river or continue westward?" she repeated.
"I think," Jack began, carefully studying both routes, "We should toss a coin."
"Toss a coin?" India practically hollered. "Do you have any sense, Jack? This is not the time for wagers and luck!"
"On the contrary. This is exactly the opportune moment for such a decision." Jack fished around in his pocket, finally drawing out a rough silver coin. He held it out between his thumb and forefinger, turning it to show India both sides. "One side, our old mate George, on the other side a lovely sort of crest. Crest, we follow the river, George, we go west."
"Why not the other way around?" India asked.
"Because," he said, then paused for a moment, trying to come up with an answer. Narrowing his eyes, he fixed his attention back on the coin, tossed it in the air, then caught it and placed it on the back of his hand. "George," he proclaimed, then looked across the stream. There were no visible signs that the water had ever delved along a straight westward path. "Let's follow the river," he said, changing his mind.
India looked at him in confusion. "I will never understand you, Jack Sparrow," she muttered. They continued alongside the stream. For another twenty paces it continued south, then meandered back to a westward direction. The stream began to deepen and the land to either side rose, creating a gully of four or five feet. Farther westward it became even deeper, perhaps cutting a dozen or so feet into the rock.
"There's your arroyo, love. Now what?" Jack asked.
India barely acknowledged the fact that his decision to follow the river seemed to have been the right one.
"What would you do with the treasure, Jack?" she asked.
He thought for a short time before smiling. "I would buy a hat. A really big one. And some rum."
"Anything else?" she asked. "It seems like such a waste."
"Some boots and a new jacket," he said, referring to the items he had shed when trying to swim ashore. "Let me tell you something I've learned," he began in a fond tone. "One of the very beautiful things about treasure, India, is having it. Not spending it," Jack explained. "What would you do?"
She answered right away. "I don't know. I've never had money before. My father never sent anything home to his wife and child-" she cut herself off. Changing the subject quickly, she said, "We're to travel eighteen paces north . which I suppose means we have to cross the river."
Jack tilted his head backwards in tension. "Right."
Visually memorizing the area, Jack wandered a way back down the edge of the stream to where the sides were less tall and steep, then stepped in and trudged across, the water reaching well past his knees. India, before following, took off her boots, tossing them to Jack, and rolled up her trousers. She emerged on the other side, letting the water drip-dry off her lower body.
Jack noticed her legs, and India noticed that Jack noticed. She quickly dried them off with her shirt sleeves pulled over her hands, then unrolled her trousers again, glaring at him defensively.
"Don't think I did that for your viewing pleasure, Jack Sparrow," she said warningly.
"I would only dream of it, love," he replied with a sly smile. "You're far too respectable for the likes of me."
She exhaled angrily, reclaimed her boots, and pulled them on. Jack headed back to the point on the arroyo where they would have crossed had it not been too deep, turned to face north, then began counting his steps. At eighteen, he stopped and looked around.
"What now?" he asked. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary; there was no landmark to indicate that they were travelling in the right direction.
"Uh ." India began. Jack spun around to look at her. "In actual fact, we're supposed to travel . eighteen paces back south," she admitted.
"So back to the river?" he asked.
"Well . I suppose so, except it says 'under,'" she added.
"Under ." he repeated. He looked around, then went to throw his hands in the air in exasperation, but was again reminded of his wounded arm. He uttered a curse, then tried to divert his thoughts. "Exactly how long ago would you say this map is from?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," she said. "The first mention of it was in an entry about ten years ago."
So many things could have changed since then, Jack thought. Small trees could now be full-grown, old trees could be dead and rotted. Rocks might prove constant markers, but he could see none of consequence in the area. Under?
"Of course, he said that he added to the treasure up until four or five years ago. Half of the loot went here, the other half was divided between payments to his crew, and another island."
"De la Muerta," Jack breathed.
"Hmm? Yes, that might have been the name."
Jack wandered the area, searching for anything out of the ordinary. In five years, the undergrowth could have completely changed. Remembering the cache underground that the rum-runners had used on his small two-time marooned-upon island, he decided to test a theory. He jumped, being careful of his bare feet, to check for springy ground. After several minutes of searching, he found what he was looking for. There was an uneven section of ground that felt hollow. He knelt down, examining the area with one hand while protecting the other in an attempt to not disturb the cut on his arm. He tore aside the dead vines, moss, and dirt to reveal a densely knit matting of some sort. He stepped back.
"Help me with this, will you love?" he asked, again, kneeling to lift the covering, which was about four feet in length and width. India complied. With some difficulty, because the vines had woven themselves together with it, they lifted the trap-door-like device. Beneath it was a dark hole, not much smaller than the covering, the sides supported by logs and branches.
"It looks like a tunnel," Jack observed, peering down into the darkness.
"Gosh Jack, you might have actually done something useful for once," India admitted. Her comment failed to elicit a response. "Are we going down there?" she asked.
He looked over at her and smiled.
Under.