Disclaimer: See previous disclaimers. I don't wanna talk about it.
My Apology: SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY!!!!! I'm SO sorry
for making you wait. Those pesky college applications are finally out (well, Part
I of them anyways), so now I have time to write…thankfully. BUT FIRST AND
FOREMOST I want to address GrayWolfEyes's amazing and intelligent observation.
She noticed Jack being a little OOC…it's because I meant to make him OOC. In
regards to Jack saying in the previous chapter, roughly, "Take me. Leave them
[Will and Elizabeth] and take me." I know that was extremely un-Sparrowish.
This I felt was appropriate for two reasons: one, because he's aware that his
nonchalant attitude towards Will and Elizabeth was worn out during his last
encounter with Barbossa; i.e., Barbossa is aware that Jack cares for both of
them so pretending that he was indifferent would be a lost cause. But second
and most importantly, he is under the influence of the curse, remember? Because
he is in Barbossa's hands, the curse has a stronger influence over him.
I realize these reasons may not be convincing, but I felt it was necessary to clarify. Thanks to everyone who reviewed…and if you have qualms about my story like GrayWolfEyes did, feel free to include it in your review! I won't bite…hard. **smirk**
And now, the procrastinator (me) presents the next chapter.
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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Winds of ChangeUnexpected Guests
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It was only after Elizabeth had thrown her arms around Jack's neck, sobbing with frustration and fear over losing her husband to the curse that Dolan realized they were in a more dire situation than he had previously thought. He stood in the rear of the cell in which he, Jack, Will's wife, and another man by the name of Gibbs resided. His arms were folded across his chest in defense of the chilled temperatures of the brig. His brow was furrowed in sympathy for the grieving woman. She had fallen into resolute silence after Jack had informed her of Will's decision (due to the strong influence of the curse) to join Barbossa's ranks. Then, barely an hour later, she clung to the pirate in desperation. It was apparent she had been holding in her overflowing feelings for too long.
At first, Jack had looked slightly alarmed at the upset woman who had flung herself at him. But now he seemed to be handling it incredibly well (for Jack Sparrow), and held on to her, patting her on the head a tad awkwardly as if she were an unpredictable dog. She finally let go of him and wiped her eyes furiously, her face in a determined scowl.
"He's more trouble than he's worth," she grumbled half-heartedly.
"Aye. That's why you love him," commented Jack, looking relieved that his duty of comforting her had finally come to an end. She gave an unlady-like snort, but didn't deny it.
In the silence that followed, Dolan weighed their chances of escape and was disconcerted, however unsurprised, to draw the conclusion that the odds were against them. His crew was locked in a cell adjacent to theirs, and all of them had been bruised and pushed around. On top of that, they were exhausted, hungry, cold, wet, and in bad spirits. None of these, Dolan realized with a frown, would encourage them to put up a fight.
"Codswallop," grumbled Gibbs, shaking his head. "We're done for. Turner's on Barbossa's side…the curse is talkin' to ye, Jack. It's only a matter of time before you goes turncoatin' on us as well."
"I must admit, Gibbs, I always admired your optimism," grumbled Jack in reply. He seemed to be somewhat distracted but attentive nonetheless.
"I ain't all doom and gloom, I is just realistic. It's a page you should take out of my book."
In response, Jack grunted and turned away from them all.
Dolan studied the back of the pirate captain for a few moments before turning his eyes onto the other cell in the brig. All of his crew were sitting down, some catching a last-minute snooze, some lazily yawning and others staring out into the distance with dreamy looks upon their faces. Exhaustion weighed down upon them, and Dolan was no stranger to the pinch of tiredness. The only man that stood with a calm, if not somewhat defiant expression was Norrington. Dolan's eyes lingered upon the commodore slightly until the other man shifted his eyes to meet his gaze. Dolan looked away quickly.
Elizabeth sighed from a corner of the cell, and Dolan immediately felt another twinge of sympathy. The lass had been through much, no doubt. And although Dolan was not completely taken with young Turner, he could still understand the loss of a loved one. Namely, with his brother Jonathan…
But Jonathan had died, and Will wasn't dead…yet. So there was no comparison. The news that his brother had died struck him hard enough, but when he found out the humiliation he had gone through, that his last moments were spent in shame and embarrassment…that ripped Dolan's heart out. A blindly cold hatred had pulsed through his body in such a way that he felt nothing but the need for revenge. Only when he made Norrington feel the way his brother felt, only when he embarrassed the commodore and brought shame upon his face and name, only when he avenged his brother's death…only then would he be happy and fulfilled…
When the rusty key turned in the lock of his cell and hard, calloused hands ripped him from his cage, Dolan was brought back to the present. He was escorted roughly out of the brig and onto the deck, along with Elizabeth, Jack, and Gibbs. The dulled sunlight nearly blinded him as he winced, used to the dank darkness of the brig. When his eyes adjusted in the glare of the white beams of light, he noticed that they were approaching a small island. The winds whipped around him and Dolan squinted his blue eyes against the slight spray from the ocean. The ship now pitched and rolled with more fervor than before, and he found himself off balance due to the fact that his hands (like the rest of the captives') were tied behind his back with rough rope.
"Isle de la Viento," commented a rash voice belonging to Barbossa. "Must recognize 'er, Jack."
Jack said nothing.
A violent wave smashed against the side of the ship, sending Dolan flying against the deck. He smacked his head hard upon the base of the main mast and, for a few moments, lay disoriented and nauseous at its base. "Get up ye lousy bottom-feeder," grumbled a pirate, lifting him to his feet. Dolan shook his head slightly and regained some of his sure footing.
Hearing a small gasp that sounded as if someone was trying to avoid a sob, he turned to look at Elizabeth. She was staring, transfixed, across the deck, and Dolan followed her gaze, eventually resting his eyes upon Will Turner. It would be unfair to say the boy looked daft…he looked possessed. His eyes glinted strangely, as if they weren't in focus. He wore a strange smile of bemused satisfaction and stood at a strangely rigid angle, his hands behind his back. He followed Barbossa everywhere as if they were tied together by an invisible string.
"So, Jack, ever curious as to how I got the Black Pearl back after the Navy sank her to the bottom?" asked Barbossa, a sadistic grin spreading over his wretched face.
Once again Jack remained silent.
"Well, you've probably guessed, the heathen gods raised it for me. Fastest ship in the world, she is," he remarked, glancing up at the marvelous rigging. "Fast enough so we can spill Turner's blood over the coins, become immortal, and wreak havoc on all of those who used those damn coins for profit."
"Why do ye need Turner's blood, reckon?" Dolan heard himself asking, frowning at the pirate.
Barbossa walked carefully towards him and looked him up and down before responding. "The curse is sore at Turner for keeping the last of the tokens away on our last little adventure. Simple revenge, actually," he added grinning. And as Dolan was exhausted, had a pounding headache, and knew of the lust for revenge, he did not respond. Instead, he looked at Norrington for a few moments until the commodore returned his gaze. Dolan averted his eyes quickly.
The rum running business was risky and always was. His younger brother knew that and took the chances. But when Dolan found out how Jonathan had died, how his last moments of life were spend in shame and embarrassment, Dolan felt the cold lust of vengeance sweep his mind. He wouldn't rest until he did to Norrington what the commodore had done to his brother…
"Unload 'em."
Dolan felt himself being forcefully placed into a small rowboat, Elizabeth following behind him. They were accompanied by two of Barbossa's crew. He looked around and saw Jack and Gibbs placed in another boat behind them, while Will and Barbossa sat down in a boat flanking them on the right. The rest of the crew filled the remaining rowboats, and there they fought through the torrential winds and the high waves towards the island's shores.
Needing to say something, Dolan looked at Elizabeth who was shivering slightly due to the cold winds. He wished he had a coat to offer her…but he had left his in the brig. She glanced at him and he tried to smile. "Everything will turn out alright, lass," he yelled over the winds. "Sparrow's full of ideas, reckon."
Elizabeth inclined her head and replied, "That's what I'm afraid of."
And Dolan had to admit that she had a point.
A few ten-foot waves and a near-capsize later, he found himself being hauled onto the island. He surveyed his surroundings and noted a few caves in the near distance, jutting out over the ocean menacingly. He winced and lowered his head to avoid the bits of sand that sprayed his face due to the strong and gusty winds. He looked around at the rest of the crew who had already landed their rowboats and were climbing unsteadily out of them. He saw Jack trip over the side of his boat and heard mumble, "I HATE sailing…"
The closer they approached the caves, the more Dolan's stomach felt as though it contained a very large, sharp rock. An overbearing sense of foreboding made him shiver as he and the rest of the crew traipsed over the sand dunes. Mound after mound they conquered, and after barely twenty minutes of climbing Dolan felt as if his legs were made of jelly. He panted slightly and felt a rawness in his throat; the fact that his hands were tied behind his back did nothing to help his balance as he constantly tripped and swayed over the soft and amoebic sand.
Finally, when he felt he couldn't move another inch, he heard Barbossa growl, "Here we are, lads."
Dolan looked up and found himself standing at the base of the caves. The wind picked up and whistled in his ears as he was forced to go in first. He looked reprovingly at the pirate who pushed him, a scrawny, clownish man whose eye appeared to be fake. The pirate giggled insanely and pointed into the caves, "Haunted, they are."
"Shut up you slimy piece of worm-ridden filth," grumbled a shorter pirate next to him.
"They is haunted," protested the other.
"You're stupider than a piece of wood," grumbled the stout man.
"More stupid, genius. 'Stupider' is not a word." Dolan turned to Elizabeth who had spoken, and she wore a slightly malicious grin on her face as she looked back at Dolan. The shorter pirate turned red and shoved Dolan forward. "Into the cave, ye yellow-bellied rum runner."
Dolan headed forward, crouching low. The space they were heading into was barely four-feet tall, and with his hands tied, he often found himself on the floor of the cave, crawling his way through. A couple of times he even fancied himself stuck, but thanks to his fairly well-built figure he was able to squeeze through the small spaces, shimmying his way through crevices and tight spots. He used his muscles that were built up from manning the rigging to drag himself through a spot that was barely two feet tall, emerging from it covered in dust and mud. He wiped his eyes on his shoulder and glanced around. They had reached a fork in the trail.
"Well," growled Barbossa, folding his hands across his chest. "This is where ye messed up, Jack. Ye went left on this trail…wrong choice. 'Tis right…let's go lads."
Before Dolan was prodded in the back again, he turned around and glanced at Jack. The pirate looked up and met his gaze, and Dolan was thoroughly alarmed to see a different look in his eyes; a familiar glistening that he had seen in young Turner. Dolan swore under his breath as he realized Gibbs was right: it was just a matter of time before the curse overpowered Sparrow. If they lost him, they might as well give up all hope.
This path was windy and curvy, but had a ceiling of about seven feet. To Dolan's appeasement, this did not require crawling, but the strong winds did sent various bits of debris flying at them every once in a while. The scrawny pirate got smacked in the face with a coconut shell carried by the wind, and Dolan heard a sickening sucking sound as the man screamed, "Me eye! Me eye!" Dolan saw the pirate crawl past him as the small round object (apparently his eye) came rolling past his feet. Dolan aimed carefully and kicked the eye farther down the path, grinning as he saw the one-eyed man give a groan of annoyance as he crawled hastily after it.
Abruptly, the path stopped and gave way to a large ditch. The ditch was filled with rocks and a small stream, and it stood perhaps twenty feet below them. Upon feeling another prod, Dolan gave a grunt of worry. He had never liked heights, and he was in no mood to hike his way down the steep incline into the quarry-like space beneath him. But Turner didn't seem patient; with one swift swoop he smacked Dolan upside the head, causing him to lose his balance and roll down the rocky terrain. He bounced like a rag doll upon the sharp rocks, letting out a cry of pain as his head smacked against a rather sharp one, splitting open his skin over the right eye. He suddenly grew limp with pain as he hit more and more painful jolts, until he landed a few seconds later at the bottom, his face scratched and bleeding, his muscles screaming and his head throbbing. He heard the pirates laughing at Turner, slapping him on the back in congratulations.
"Dolan!" It was Elizabeth's voice. He meant to lift up his head to acknowledge her worried cry, but all he could do was lay there, to pray for relief from the pain. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but a swift burning sensation followed by a flow of blood entered his mouth. It was obvious his jaw was broken.
He felt Elizabeth kneel down next to him some minutes later, asking him if he was ok, trying to gently shake him awake. But reality was fading in and out of focus as the world spun around him. He felt the urge to heave with nausea as his right arm convulsed with pain. A weak groan emitted from his lips as bright spots appeared before his eyes. He kept his eyes shut and inhaled a shaky breath before plunging into the cold darkness that finally submerged him.
~*~
"You BASTARD!" she screamed, flinging herself at Will. She was shaking with anger and shedding tears of dismay. She landed upon him and punched him fruitlessly, screaming incoherently and kicking wildly as the other pirates wrenched her off of him, laughing hysterically. "You – you –" she managed to stutter, staring at her husband with disbelief. She knew the curse had taken him, but the fact that he had just killed Dolan in cold blood was more than she could comprehend.
"Now, now, lass, mind the language," Barbossa said, grinning toothily. "Mr. Turner is but doing his duty."
She let out a growl of anger and disgust as the pirates tied her hands behind her back. She looked frantically towards Gibbs and Jack, who were standing next to each other. Gibbs's face looked alarmed and somewhat pained, but Jack's face remained emotionless. It seemed as though someone had stripped him of all feeling, leaving only a strange gleaming in his eyes. A sickening feeling engulfed her gut as she prayed that the curse hadn't taken him.
"Now, Jack. Gibbs has informed me that you have the last coin…we would greatly appreciate it if you would give it to us."
A long pause permeated the air until Jack mumbled, almost incoherently, "…don't have it."
Barbossa stared hard at the man and said again, "Give it here."
"Already told you…don't have it." Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise as a small smile drew across his face, his eyes now glistening differently. Instead of shining madly, they shone triumphantly.
Barbossa suddenly raised a hand and punched Jack in the face. No blood was drawn, as he was undead, but there was a sickening cracking sound. Jack staggered but regained his composure, staring hard at Barbossa. Then, he smiled. "Sorry to disappoint ye. And you know I'm not lying," he added. "Looks like your fluffy hat isn't such good luck after all."
Barbossa seethed with anger, and Elizabeth saw his eyes trail over the ground towards her. Before she could turn from him he seized her, drew his sword, and put it unnervingly close to her throat. She tried her best to stifle a whimper as he said, "You better find that coin good and fast, Jack, or you can say goodbye to the girl."
A flicker of fear swept over Jack's face, but it was soon replaced by a nonchalant, almost amused grin. "So, think that by killing the lass you're going to get that coin back, do you? Come, come, mate, I always thought you smarter than that."
Elizabeth gasped as she felt the blade press harder against her throat, and closed her eyes tightly as she felt a small trickle of blood flow from her neck down her chest as Barbossa pressed it harder against her. "I know your games, Sparrow. And as of right now, I'm not amused. So it's best that you find that coin real fast." The sincerity in his voice almost sent Elizabeth into hysterics.
"What are you thinking?" she heard Gibbs mumble to Jack.
"I'm thinking I should've listened to my mother and gone into the Postal Service," he muttered.
"JACK SPARROW THIS IS NO TIME FOR JESTING!" she shrieked against her own will, snapping her eyes open to glare at him.
"Then what do you suggest?" Jack asked hotly. "I don't have the bloody coin!"
"You don't, but I do."
A female voice echoed throughout the chamber as all of them looked around, alarmed. Elizabeth squinted in concentration as she looked around the dark cavern, lit only by a rather large hole in the ceiling where sunlight spilled in. She could see no one in the shadows that surrounded them, but the voice had sounded so familiar…the cockney accent entwined with the rough hewn voice of a sailor…she had heard that voice before…but where…?
"Show yerself!" commanded Barbossa from behind her. His grip tightened around her neck and the blade pressed itself into her skin, causing more blood to be drawn. She looked around the cabin and her eyes landed upon Jack, whose sardonic expression was replaced by one she hadn't seen on him in a while. Could it be hope?
From the upper terrace of the chamber emerged two figures. They were still immersed in shadow, so their faces were still in darkness. However, Elizabeth could tell that one was a man and the other a woman. They stood side by side, as if waiting for Barbossa to make another comment.
"Lordy Christ," she heard Gibbs mutter as he gazed upon them. "It can't be…it just can't…"
"SHOW YERSELF NOW!" Barbossa shouted. Elizabeth watched wide-eyed as one of the two figures emerged from the darkness. She gasped.
The woman was none other than Anamaria.
She was holding out the golden token in her hand, which was glistening eerily in the limited light. She wore a grim smile upon her face as she looked down at all of them. "I take it ye were looking for this?" she asked.
A heavy silence hung suspended in the air, until Barbossa yelled, slightly alarmed, "Who's the other one with ye?"
The figure still in the shadows did not move.
Anamaria looked behind her and beckoned her companion out. There was a moment where everyone seemed to be holding their breaths in apprehension. The only sound that could be heard was the whistling of the wind and the waves breaking against the rocks. Then, very slowly and deliberately, the figure with the manly build stepped out from out of the shadows. Elizabeth's jaw dropped, and she heard panicked shuffling and raised exclamations of surprise from Barbossa's crew.
The man appeared to be in his late thirties, early forties, although his boyish features and handsome face made him appear somewhat younger. He donned the same grim smile upon his tanned face as Anamaria, his hands folded over his chest to reveal a built but rather slight frame. His lips twitched under his goatee as he cocked his head slightly, his brown eyes traveling over all of them in interest.
Anamaria laughed lightly at the alarmed reaction of the crew. Elizabeth stood transfixed, staring at both of them as if in a trance. Elizabeth gestured to Barbossa, then to the man at her side. "I don't think introductions are necessary," she commented, now smiling broadly. "But let me do the courteous act anyways. Captain Barbossa, let me introduce you to your former crew member, William Turner."
~*~
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