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Chapter 2 - ...we're not in Kansas anymore.



We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
Maraud and embezzle and even hijack.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!


He got a quick impression of chaos, wood and water before the wave came over the side of the ship, knocking him back a good fifteen feet. The water was freezing, bitter in his mouth and stinging his eyes. He groped blindly for something to use to haul himself up with, but another wave sent him reeling. The sky was black, whether from night or a storm he couldn't tell, the surface beneath him bucking like an angry horse. It was raining, although it was barely noticeable on top of the sea spray.

People were all around him, shouting and running around like stirred up ants. The deafening roar of the ocean made it impossible to pick out any individual words, but he was fairly sure they spoke in english. They were dressed oddly, and the ship itself seemed to be a reproduction of some sort. His stomach warned him of what was coming if he didn't get on dry land in the next five minutes.

He slid across the deck again as the boat seemed to drop out from underneath him and grabbed onto a rope that came into reach. He wasn't sure where on the ship he was, but the rope held up to his experimental tugs, and he tightened his grip on it. He'd never been one for sailing, and that dislike was firmly reinforced as he vomited onto the wooden deck.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed huddled against the deck, clutching the coarse hemp rope, but it seemed as though several lifetimes had passed before the sky began to lighten and the ship's movements eased from violent to easy. His hands had cramped and gone numb from the cold water, and he had to work each one to get them to straighten. As the waters calmed so did the crew, saving the ship taking a back seat to other matters.

Such as where the strange man on the forecastle deck had come from.

Giles very quickly found his hands bound together and his feet hobbled by a short length of rope, so that he could only take mincing little steps. He was being half led, half-dragged towards the captain's quarters by a stern looking dark skinned woman and a dwarf. They were both as wet as he was, dressed in clothing that he would date at mid seventeenth to early eighteenth century. Very authentic, down to the filth and smell. The woman caught him staring and brought the heel of her boot down on his instep. Giles got some measure of happiness out of the difficulty she had dragging him the rest of the way. Served her right.

she yelled, dropping him in front of a carved wooden door. With his hands tied as they were he couldn't do anything to save himself and his forehead bounced off the deck, making everything blur and waver. His vision righted slowly, and focused on the leather clad feet standing a few inches from his nose. He was pulled roughly to his feet by his hair, biting his tongue to keep from swearing. He was getting to the age where he couldn't afford to have his hair yanked out. No telling if it would decide to come back.

Easy Mr. Gibbs. Needs to be awake to talk to us. The man that spoke was of average height, and dressed like Errol Flynn does glam rock. Giles had to blink a few times to assure himself that what he was looking at was real. A red bandanna kept long hair back from a round face, braided in trinkets and beads standing out against the black. He had a thin mustache and beard, and striking light hazel eyes that were outlined with more kohl than Giles would have been comfortable wearing to a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. That was keeping in mind that Giles had no qualms about wearing fishnets and high heels to a midnight showing of Rocky Horror. The rest of the ensemble was classic Hollywood pirate, down to the horribly impractical folded over knee length boots. The man was as wet as many of the crew, and Giles guessed that he'd only recently gone inside.

I am Captain Jack Sparrow, he said, with a grand theatrical flourish of his hat. Perhaps you've heard of me?

Giles answered promptly.

Are you sure?



Oh come now, you must have heard something, The pirate pleaded. His accent wasn't quite like anything Giles had heard before. A touch of Irish, some Mannish - maybe a little French? Terrible pirate, escaped from the gallows of both the Dutch and the English, dashingly handsome and cunning. That ring a bell? I'm quite famous, you know

I think I would remember you, Giles answered with perfect honesty. Jack Sparrow looked crestfallen, a peacock who has just realized that the peahens don't give a damn. He stepped closer to Giles, until their noses nearly touched and peered at him as if looking for something. He dearly wished the other would step back. Giles didn't know if he was naturally swarthy, or if it was the dirt darkening his skin.

Finally, when Giles's eyes had started to water, the pirate stepped back. An Englishman, he said slowly, as if ticking off each point in his head, with an accent that marks noble birth. Clothes of a cut I've never encounter ere today, and he smells like he went swimming in a hogsheade of, he leaned back over and gave Giles another sniff,whiskey, not rum. He turned to the woman who had brought Giles over. Unless he fell from the sky Isabella, I cannot kin how he came to be on the Pearl. Did you? He pivoted sharply on his heel to go nose to nose with Giles again.

Did I what? He leaned back as far as he could without overbalancing or pressing into the dagger he felt at his back.

Fall from the sky?

No...well, yes in a manner of speaking. I rather think I just appeared, but I could have fallen a short ways.

Did it hurt?

No, not rea-, why are you asking me this?

Never met anyone who fell from the sky before, mate. Can't blame a man for being curious. He made a quick motion with one hand and Mr. Gibbs sliced through the ropes binding Giles's hands with his dagger, doing the same to the rope around his ankles. Giles worked his hands with some relief, trying to get the circulation restored. He wasn't sure if he'd gone back in time, a parallel dimension in the same time, or a bit of both.

He's got awfully smooth skin, like a lady. You reckon he's... Gibbs made a suggestive snipping motion with his hand at crotch level. Giles growled. The nerve!

If he ain't a stowaway than he's a witch, and the treatments the same. You want to kill him now Cap'n, or save it for the nights entertainment? Isabella looked as though she was hoping the Captain answered now'.

Come now, lass, if he were a danger he wouldn't be swaying on the deck like a half-drowned kitten, now would he? He'd whip up some spell and do us all in proper. Jack made the answer seem perfectly logical.

Isabella frowned. Giles tried to look harmless, although frankly, he wasn't sure what harmless was supposed to look at. Something small and fluffy, he supposed. Like a baby bunny.

Still needs killin', she muttered sullenly, but her hand moved slowly away from the knife at her belt.

Told him he shouldn't have let her keep the knife, Mr. Gibbs muttered, low, so only Giles could hear. Woman is a menace to mankind, she is.

Jack stepped forward and threw an arm around Giles's shoulders, pulling him close and nearly unbalancing him enough to send him back down to the deck. He had to push off against the man's chest to stay upright. Jack winked at him.

Well that's settled. Welcome to the Black Pearl, mate. Greatest ship to ever raise her sails. Come on in, we'll have some rum.

He gave Giles a shove towards the door, and despite a sudden feeling of foreboding, there wasn't really anything Giles could do but go along. After all, he thought, glancing back at the uninterrupted expanse of water that stretched to the horizon and beyond, he wasn't exactly in a position to leave.