Chapter 11
"Bootstrap and Will just got 'im o'er t' the Pearl. Now come ON." Gibbs said, grabbing her wrist and dragging her over to the railing closest to the Pearl.
The two made it back onto their rightful ship as another volley from the warship tore a gouging hole just below the waterline of the unmarked vessel's hull. Looking around, they saw that they were the last of their crew to have made it back onto the Pearl.
"Let go topsails! Git us away from 'er! She's goin' down!" Gibbs yelled.
The Pearl's crew scrambled up into the rigging to let go all the canvas they could.
Gibbs and Ana-Maria watched the unmarked vessel containing Barbossa's entire old crew sink to the dark depths of Davy Jones' Locker with opposing emotions. Even though he never liked them, Gibbs felt a sorrow for some men who could have been good, given different circumstances. Ana-Maria, on the other hand, snorted distastefully at the sinking ship, and then spat at it. This having been done, she turned back to the main deck of the ship in time to find Elizabeth stepping up from below decks.
"Where's Will?" Elizabeth asked automatically.
"Th' lad's probably with Jack." Gibbs replied evenly.
"Where is Jack?" Elizabeth asked in an irritated fashion, placing her hands on her hips.
Without a word, Ana-Maria dashed towards the captain's cabin. Before she could open the door herself, Bootstrap emerged and she accidentally ran straight into him. She looked up and the second recognition dawned, a question came to her lips: "Where's Jack?"
"Best ye don' see 'im, lass." Bootstrap said quickly, taking her arms hostage as she tried to push past him.
"Let me go! I 'ave th' right t' see 'im!" Ana-Maria snapped, struggling against Bootstrap's hold and trying to look over his shoulder with no success.
"Elizabeth." Bootstrap called, nodding over his shoulder to the captain's cabin.
Elizabeth nodded her understanding and slipped passed the two pirates into the cabin, firmly closing the door behind her.
"Ana, trust me." Bootstrap said calmly, catching her gaze with his own. "Jack'll be fine, but it won't 'elp 'im if yer're fussing about an' not helpin' anyone."
~*~
Elizabeth stepped into the cabin, closing the door behind her and taking a deep breath to fortify herself against what she might be about to see. She turned slowly and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the mutilation.
Jack was lying on his stomach on the cot, his back exposed. Even though his shirt had been removed, it was obvious that the garment had been present while the wounds were inflicted; scraps and strands of blood- stained material inhabited the wounds. A deep slash was prominent on his left side and looked as if it had recently been reopened—or never given the chance to start healing in the first place. His head was turned away from the door, revealing nine gouges on the right side of his face and neck.
Will sat on a chair on the door side of the bed, his back to her. A young girl occupied the chair on the opposite side and she looked up at Elizabeth's entrance.
"Will," Elizabeth whispered, stepping forward.
Will glanced up quickly and turned to the voice, then smiled tightly at his fiancé.
"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked, directing the question to the girl who was now attempting to remove the bits of cloth from the wounds on Jack's back as painlessly as possible.
"Chelsea." The girl replied quietly, not looking up from her work.
"Her ship was captured by Barbossa's crew a while ago." Will explained, using as hushed voice.
Elizabeth nodded her comprehension. "How bad is it? Aside from the obvious, I mean?"
Will glanced over his shoulder at the motionless pirate as Chelsea managed to remove another blood-covered fragment of cloth. "It's odd,"
"What? The fact that he was whipped? For some reason, I don't find that very strange, Will."
"No, you'd think him to have a fever . . ." Will trailed off, not sure exactly how to put it.
"But?"
"It's quite the opposite; he's so cold." Chelsea finished, placing a gentle hand on Jack's forehead.
"Cold?" Elizabeth echoed in confusion. "But those wounds look infected . . ."
"They are." Chelsea broke in.
"But doesn't infection cause a fever?" Elizabeth asked in confusion.
"It's supposed to." Will put in.
"Maybe..." Chelsea trailed off in thought. "That's got to be it! Oh no, if that is the case, then we've got to get him to a doctor now!"
"Wait a minute, what do you know that we don't?" Elizabeth asked.
Chelsea took a deep breath before relaying the memory. "I was heading back to my cabin the evening of when they began whipping him. As I walked past the two making the whip, I saw them sprinkle a white powder on the tips. They were careful not to let it get on themselves."
"Poison." Will said bitterly.
Chelsea nodded sadly. "It must be...that's the only explanation."
Elizabeth visibly paled. "Does that mean...?"
"Not if we can get it negated...and soon." Chelsea said quickly.
"How do you know so much? You're only fifteen."
"Sixteen." Chelsea corrected automatically, removing the pieces of fabric from the wounds quicker and with less regard of the pain she may be inflicting; Jack had long since passed out.
[a/n: Please review.]
"Bootstrap and Will just got 'im o'er t' the Pearl. Now come ON." Gibbs said, grabbing her wrist and dragging her over to the railing closest to the Pearl.
The two made it back onto their rightful ship as another volley from the warship tore a gouging hole just below the waterline of the unmarked vessel's hull. Looking around, they saw that they were the last of their crew to have made it back onto the Pearl.
"Let go topsails! Git us away from 'er! She's goin' down!" Gibbs yelled.
The Pearl's crew scrambled up into the rigging to let go all the canvas they could.
Gibbs and Ana-Maria watched the unmarked vessel containing Barbossa's entire old crew sink to the dark depths of Davy Jones' Locker with opposing emotions. Even though he never liked them, Gibbs felt a sorrow for some men who could have been good, given different circumstances. Ana-Maria, on the other hand, snorted distastefully at the sinking ship, and then spat at it. This having been done, she turned back to the main deck of the ship in time to find Elizabeth stepping up from below decks.
"Where's Will?" Elizabeth asked automatically.
"Th' lad's probably with Jack." Gibbs replied evenly.
"Where is Jack?" Elizabeth asked in an irritated fashion, placing her hands on her hips.
Without a word, Ana-Maria dashed towards the captain's cabin. Before she could open the door herself, Bootstrap emerged and she accidentally ran straight into him. She looked up and the second recognition dawned, a question came to her lips: "Where's Jack?"
"Best ye don' see 'im, lass." Bootstrap said quickly, taking her arms hostage as she tried to push past him.
"Let me go! I 'ave th' right t' see 'im!" Ana-Maria snapped, struggling against Bootstrap's hold and trying to look over his shoulder with no success.
"Elizabeth." Bootstrap called, nodding over his shoulder to the captain's cabin.
Elizabeth nodded her understanding and slipped passed the two pirates into the cabin, firmly closing the door behind her.
"Ana, trust me." Bootstrap said calmly, catching her gaze with his own. "Jack'll be fine, but it won't 'elp 'im if yer're fussing about an' not helpin' anyone."
~*~
Elizabeth stepped into the cabin, closing the door behind her and taking a deep breath to fortify herself against what she might be about to see. She turned slowly and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the mutilation.
Jack was lying on his stomach on the cot, his back exposed. Even though his shirt had been removed, it was obvious that the garment had been present while the wounds were inflicted; scraps and strands of blood- stained material inhabited the wounds. A deep slash was prominent on his left side and looked as if it had recently been reopened—or never given the chance to start healing in the first place. His head was turned away from the door, revealing nine gouges on the right side of his face and neck.
Will sat on a chair on the door side of the bed, his back to her. A young girl occupied the chair on the opposite side and she looked up at Elizabeth's entrance.
"Will," Elizabeth whispered, stepping forward.
Will glanced up quickly and turned to the voice, then smiled tightly at his fiancé.
"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked, directing the question to the girl who was now attempting to remove the bits of cloth from the wounds on Jack's back as painlessly as possible.
"Chelsea." The girl replied quietly, not looking up from her work.
"Her ship was captured by Barbossa's crew a while ago." Will explained, using as hushed voice.
Elizabeth nodded her comprehension. "How bad is it? Aside from the obvious, I mean?"
Will glanced over his shoulder at the motionless pirate as Chelsea managed to remove another blood-covered fragment of cloth. "It's odd,"
"What? The fact that he was whipped? For some reason, I don't find that very strange, Will."
"No, you'd think him to have a fever . . ." Will trailed off, not sure exactly how to put it.
"But?"
"It's quite the opposite; he's so cold." Chelsea finished, placing a gentle hand on Jack's forehead.
"Cold?" Elizabeth echoed in confusion. "But those wounds look infected . . ."
"They are." Chelsea broke in.
"But doesn't infection cause a fever?" Elizabeth asked in confusion.
"It's supposed to." Will put in.
"Maybe..." Chelsea trailed off in thought. "That's got to be it! Oh no, if that is the case, then we've got to get him to a doctor now!"
"Wait a minute, what do you know that we don't?" Elizabeth asked.
Chelsea took a deep breath before relaying the memory. "I was heading back to my cabin the evening of when they began whipping him. As I walked past the two making the whip, I saw them sprinkle a white powder on the tips. They were careful not to let it get on themselves."
"Poison." Will said bitterly.
Chelsea nodded sadly. "It must be...that's the only explanation."
Elizabeth visibly paled. "Does that mean...?"
"Not if we can get it negated...and soon." Chelsea said quickly.
"How do you know so much? You're only fifteen."
"Sixteen." Chelsea corrected automatically, removing the pieces of fabric from the wounds quicker and with less regard of the pain she may be inflicting; Jack had long since passed out.
[a/n: Please review.]