Pirates of the Caribbean
Legends of the Dragon's Claw
By Amos Whirly
Chapter Seven: On the Trail
Will grasped the rigging with a white-knuckled fist as the Pearl slammed into a large wave. He threw a glance over his shoulder toward the helm where Jack was steering the ship. His tanned face was tight with concentration.
Gibbs was running around making sure all was running smoothly, and Anamaria was shouting at the other sailors, something rude and loud to make them hurry.
Will smiled faintly to himself. It had been good to see the crew again.
Gibbs was exactly the same—short, balding, and always drinking from his hip flask. The jolly sparkle had not left his eye. Will wondered if he still told his far-fetched stories.
Anamaria had not changed much either. Dark, beautiful, and explosive. At the moment she was shouting at some poor sailor who had not tied a knot correctly.
With a scowl, Will jumped down from the ledge and worked his way to where Jack was standing.
"Storm's moving in," Jack said before Will could speak. "Tell Gibbs to drop canvas."
"Won't that slow us down?" Will frowned.
"Aye," Jack was solemn, "but better to slow down and still have a ship, mate."
Will nodded.
"Will."
He turned around.
"The sea makes all men equal, mate," Jack offered a cocky smile. "This storm'll slow them up too."
Will nodded again and went to find Gibbs.
* * *
The huge wave knocked Will off his feet and into the side of the ship. The Pearl lurched violently, massive waves of icy water spilling on deck and washing anything not tied down into the black depths of the sea. Jack was still fighting with the helm.
Will grabbed the rope that had come untied and quickly began to tighten it, desperately trying to remember what Jack had taught him about sailing six years earlier.
Another wave plowed into the Pearl. Will clung to the rope until he thought his fingers would break as the wave broke on the deck, snapping lines and dragging barrels and supplies into the darkness.
"Will!"
Will found his feet and looked over his shoulder, squinting through his soaked eyelashes.
"Gibbs!" he shouted back.
The pudgy pirate was hurrying toward him.
Will felt it before it happened. As if the water level of the sea dropped drastically. He looked up, fearing what he would see. Lightning struck in the distance, illuminating the enormous wave bearing down on them.
"Gibbs! Grab on to something!"
Gibbs lunged at a piece of rigging.
The wave smashed into the ship.
Will would have sworn he heard boards snapping under the strain.
"Hold!" he vaguely heard Jack bellowing.
The ship thrashed about in the wave for an eternity, water still spilling over the decks, threatening to take everyone and everything with it.
Gibbs's rope snapped.
Will watched helplessly as Gibbs flew over the side of the boat!
"No!" he shouted.
"Anamaria!" Jack barked over the wind and rain. "Take her!"
Through the storm, Will saw the slight woman grab the wheel. Jack slapped his soggy hat on top of her head, shouting, "I want it back, luv!" Then, he dove off the side of the ship.
"Jack!" Will roared.
"Make quick!" Anamaria screeched. "Ready a rope!"
Will breathed a prayer and grabbed a coiled rope off the deck. He bound it to the mast with as many tight knots as he had time for, then, he tied a weight on the other end. Peering through his dripping bangs into the rainy night, he watched the black waves for any possible sign of Jack's white blouse.
There! Will thought.
He hurled the weighted rope into the sea, but he could not see where it landed. He waited for a long time. Nothing happened.
He peered into the storm again as he dragged the rope back in.
There! That's got to be him!
He hurled the rope toward the floundering white and red figure in the waves.
The ship lurched again, throwing him off balance. Another wave crashed over the deck, sweeping him off his feet. He barely grabbed the mast before the wave took him off the ship. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the rope. He glanced down and smiled. Jack was climbing the rope with Gibbs slung over one shoulder.
Will reached down and grabbed Gibbs's vest hauling him on board. The older man was choking and gurgling, but he was alive. Jack pulled himself onto the ship and collapsed on the deck, gripping his shoulder.
As lightning split the sky, Will could see the blood spread out over Jack's back.
"You ripped your stitches!" Will shouted at him.
"Oh, there's something I didn't know!" Jack shouted back, stumbling to his feet and rushing to the helm.
"Oh, no you don't!" Anamaria barked at him. "Take Gibbs below, and get Turner to stitch you up again!"
"But—" he protested.
"I'll hold this course! I don't want you bleeding all over the place!"
Jack huffed angrily and snatched his hat off her head.
"Come on, Jack!" Will yelled, shouldering Gibbs's limp body and heading below deck.
* * *
"Ow!" Jack whined. "Watch where you're poking!"
"Sorry," Will returned. "It would help if you held still a bit."
Jack snorted and winced again.
"You did a number on this, Jack," Will commented, tugging the needle through the flesh on Jack's shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jack rolled his eyes. "Just hurry up and be done with it."
Will quickly finished and set aside the needle and thread.
Jack stretched his arm out and grimaced in pain.
"Be careful," Will started mopping up the blood on the floor. "It's going to get infected if you keep this up."
Jack did not answer but leaned back in the bunk as the ship lurched again.
"We aren't going to catch them, are we?" Will sighed, not looking at his friend.
Jack remained silent.
"After this storm, we're barely going to make it to the nearest port, Jack," Will turned to him, "let alone to whatever godforsaken place those brigands came from."
Jack watched him carefully.
"We'll find them, mate," he said finally. "I told you we would, so we will."
Will sighed again and sat down next to Jack.
"Jack?"
"Aye?"
"You told me that the people who attacked your ship when you were younger—you told me they wore black."
"Aye," Jack's face grew hard. "Aye, they did."
"They wore black," Will continued. "They wore black masks and black gloves. Not boots but sandals, and all they did was kill."
"Aye."
"The men who attacked Port Royal," Will took a deep breath. "They wore black."
"Aye."
"And they killed without thought."
"Aye."
"Were they the same?"
Jack stood and walked to the porthole across from the bunk, hands on his hips. Will waited in silence.
"Aye," Jack responded somberly.
"But how is that possible, Jack?" Will stood up beside him. "It isn't, unless they're cursed like Barbossa's crew. Right?"
Jack was silent.
"They wanted the dagger then," Will sighed, returning to the bunk. "They want it now."
"Aye, well, they've got it."
"Then, why did they take Tori?"
"I don't know, Will," Jack turned to him. "All right? I don't know. I don't know why they want the dagger. I don't know why they took your daughter. I bloody don't know."
Will looked up at him.
"But I do know," Jack turned back to the window, "that what they're fighting for is honor. Remember that? I heard them say it all those years ago. Honor. Whatever your definition of bloody honor is, one thing's certain, mate. You can't buy it. You can't trade for it. Either you have it or you don't."
Slowly, Will reached under the bunk and grabbed a wrapped bundle. He unwrapped it and pulled the jade and ivory sheath out of it.
"Where'd you get that?" Jack asked quietly.
"I pulled it off the fellow who attacked us at McClintock's mansion," Will examined the intricate sheath in the candlelight.
Jack walked to the edge of the bunk and glared at the sheath.
"Does that look familiar to you, mate?"
They exchanged a glance, and Jack jumped up, hurrying out of the room.
"Jack!" Will shouted and ran after him.
He followed Jack up the stairs and onto the main deck. Peering through the still falling rain, Will saw Jack race into the captain's quarters beneath the top deck. Will rushed after him, splashing through the knee high water gathered on deck.
The two men burst into the cabin, trying to keep as much of the water out as possible. Jack hurried to the safe in the corner, unlocked it, and pulled out the envelope they had secured from McClintock's mansion. Jack opened it and pulled out the sketched drawings of the Dragon's Claw.
"See?" Jack gestured to the pictures and then to the sheath still clutched in Will's hand. "Don't they look just marvelous together?"
"Is the Claw supposed to have a sheath?"
"Don't know," Jack tucked the pictures back into the envelope and shoved it back in the safe. "But I know they sure look alike."
"Maybe they were made by the same person, Jack. That doesn't mean they're a set."
"And I suppose the little markings on the bottom of that sheath have nothing to do with anything either."
Will turned the sheath over and stared at the cryptic red symbols carved into the ivory.
"So what does this mean?" Will sat in one the chairs around the table.
"It means, mate," the old gleam suddenly appeared in Jack's dark eyes, "that we may have a bargaining chip after all."