Righty.
There was some confusion over the last chapter. Will was NOT injured. He was just watching. *Orli fans start to breathe again. *
Ok, as if you hadn't guessed, this has been a really hard chapter to write. Seriously, no inspiration at all. So if it's a stinker that shouldn't be read by man nor beast, I apologise.
So, here we go.
***********************************************************
Chapter Twenty-Nine – Listen to the Rum
"You didn't do a very good job, Mr Turner. Sparrow was still alive."
Will stepped over the pirate's body. The Blacksmith was still gripping his sword. Loua smiled pleasantly at him. Will thrust the blade forward. The smile didn't change. It didn't even falter as the woman slumped to the floorboards.
Elizabeth had knelt down next to Jack. She propped his head up on her knees, and tried to inspect his wound. She tried to avoid looking at the dead features of the late Commodore James Norrington. The man's pale skin and white wig stood out in the darkness of the room. It was eerie, watching him, and not seeing a rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.
Will shook Loua's voluminous cloak. A small, black jewel tumbled to the floor. It's once perfect surface was smashed beyond repair. He shrugged, and dropped the useless thing to the floor.
"Is Jack alright?"
"He will be if we can get him somewhere safe."
Will cast around somewhat sarcastically.
"I don't see anywhere."
Elizabeth growled angrily. She ripped some more cloth off her jacket, removed Jack's makeshift bandage, and replaced it with the new cloth. The wound looked pretty ugly. She couldn't help but feel angry against Will. He hadn't been himself, obviously, but good friends didn't just stab each other.
"We take him aboard the 'Dauntless'."
"Oh? And how will the Navy like that? They've tried to hang him twice, to our knowledge!"
"Then we take him to his cabin. The Navy must have cleaned off the other crew."
"They'll want the 'Pearl'."
Elizabeth beat her fist against the wall.
"Will! Help me here! Perhaps Jack's old crew are down in the brig. Perhaps some of them."
"Why will the Navy give them back?"
A cold, hard determination coloured Elizabeth's cheeks.
"We return Norrington's body, if they give us Jack's crew."
"Elizabeth!"
Elizabeth stood up. She shot an angry look at Will. He felt his resolve soften. The girl was close to tears. She started to march up the stairs. Will grabbed her shoulder, and went up to the deck. Elizabeth silently knelt down next to Jack and traced his jaw and cheeks with her finger.
"You'll be all right. I'll make sure of it."
Up on deck, the Navy were milling about, awaiting the return of the Commodore. Will hastened up the stairs.
"Mr Turner! Thank God you're safe. Where's the Commodore?"
"I'm afraid, Lieutenant Gillette, that he's dead."
The Navy men started to murmur uncertain rumours. Already their minds were finding the person the place and the weapon.
"It was Sparrow, wasn't it?"
"No, it was Loua. The Captain of the 'Raven'."
"Oh, of course. And you're not protecting you're friend, by any chance?"
"I don't lie."
"Your previous record is far from white, Turner."
Will steeled himself for his arduous task. He took a deep breath.
"Let Jack's crew go free, Lieutenant."
"You've cracked, Turner. That woman has driven you mad."
"I am far from mad. Give me the crew, and I'll give you the Commodore."
Gillette smiled smugly.
"Ahh, you are obviously well on your way to becoming akin to Mr Sparrow, aren't you? Hostage taking and ransom now, is it?"
Will clenched his fists.
"It's Captain Sparrow."
Silence. Gillette stared at him. He drew a gun from his belt and aimed it at Will's throat.
"Men! Take Mr Turner aboard."
Elizabeth could sense there was something wrong. There was no, busy scuffling. No active movement. She crept up the stairs. Will was being marched onto the 'Dauntless'. Elizabeth saw something dark flicker by the main cabin door. God, she was hallucinating now.
Rushing back down to her patient she was in a quandary. Another sword lay nearby. Elizabeth picked it up. She waved it experimentally. Eventually she dropped it.
"Jack! Please wake up, please!"
Back to slapping his cheeks gently. She needed him. If she was honest, in more ways than one. His eyes flickered, but no words. Then, his eyes opened fully.
"'Lizzabeth?"
Elizabeth smiled weakly. He grinned at her.
"Sorry, must've dozed off there, love."
He tried to sit up, valiantly, but to no avail. He would've fallen back and knocked his head hard if Elizabeth hadn't grabbed him first. They sat there, in a somewhat confused silence, as Jack tried to stop the world spinning in front of him.
Again, a fruitless effort. The more his mind attempted to steady things, the worse it got.
"Jack?"
A small, meek feminine voice filtered into his swirling conscience. He turned with a sickening dizziness to face her.
"Jack, just try and stand up. Just till we get to your cabin."
He nodded. It wasn't a good idea, as it made his vision rock like a ship in a storm. Swaying and wobbling more than usual he stood up, leaning on Elizabeth heavily. Together they started up the stairs.
The crew of the 'Raven' had taken one look at the well-armed Navy vessel that had assailed the 'Black Pearl', and sailed hastily away. Gillette watched as the speck of the ship vanished over the horizon. He shrugged. He was sure it would eventually be captured, and it's crew hung.
Mr Turner had certainly put up a fight. He was down in the brig now, crammed in with the other miscreants caught earlier. The ship was floating a good deal lower as a result of that raid. Gillette was extremely proud of all this. All that remained was to find and collect the Commodore's body, rescue Miss Elizabeth Swann from the unsuitable company she was no doubt with, and sail back to Port Royale. Oh, and hang Sparrow. But that went without saying. A mass hanging in fact, for all these villains, but a 'special' one for the infamous Captain. In respect, of course, to the Commodore.
Milla crouched in the cabin. She was terrified. She was also the only sister left. A sudden creak at the door made her look up from her hiding place under the table. It was the girl, and she wasn't alone; an apparently dizzy and injured Jack Sparrow was leaning on her. As soon as the odd couple reached the bed, he slipped out of her arms and collapsed in a dead faint.
The girl looked agitated. Elizabeth, that was her name. Hastily, she shut the door, sneaking an anxious peek outside. Checking on her gallant rescuers, just to see that they weren't going to rescue her anytime soon, obviously.
Elizabeth knew instinctively that someone else was present in the cabin. She could feel their eyes, pressing on her. Turning slowly, she found herself facing an old wooden desk. Elizabeth gulped, and clutched at the sword she'd brought with her from the brig. With a cry, she lunged the blade into the space under the table. A shriek rent the air. Elizabeth leapt back in horror. She hadn't expected to actually stab anybody. Which was strange, because why else had she done it? A question she would no doubt wrestle with in wakeful night hours to come.
Crouching down hesitantly, she saw a fold of black cloth, and knew just who it was. Her first thought was thankfulness that it wasn't a newly escaped and hiding William Turner. Her second was an uncertainty if the person was actually dead. She poked the curled up form with her finger. It shivered violently, and uncurled somewhat. Its arms opened out, dragging the voluminous sleeves with them across the dusty floor. There was a hole through one sleeve. Interestingly enough, Elizabeth could see pieces of a shattered gem caught in the fabric fibres.
What was of most alarm to Miss Swann though, was the thick, dark red substance that seemed to be flowing from the other's chest, soaking into the cloak. A pale and shocked face stared at Elizabeth with wide-eyed amazement. But only for a few, unreal seconds, before it flopped forward, the eyes unseeing, the mouth never to speak again.
'The curse is gone.' Milla Raven's last thought before eternity claimed her.
Will surveyed the pirates around him. Most of the drunkenness seemed to have worn off. Now they were quiet, sullen. They seemed to know him as Bill Turner's son, and he had had a sort of grudging acceptance. But now nobody spoke. It was, they all knew, the gallows.
Will did recognise some of Jack's crew. No Ana or Gibbs though. They were probably dead now, he decided. Hanging in the breeze in Port Royal. Very soon Jack would be hurried down here, Elizabeth into a fancy cabin above, and then back home, ready for the biggest murder ever seen in an English colony.
"What ye think they'll do wit the 'Pearl', lad?"
Will looked up. A grizzled old sailor was looking at him from the opposite cell.
"Probably sink her. Or turn her into a Navy vessel. Why?"
The other man sniffed. He looked at his companions, who nodded. Turning back to Will, he declared:
"We can't 'ave that! C'mon boys, the 'Pearl's pride of 'our' bloody Navy! We oughta get 'er back!"
The men all sounded drunk, suddenly, to Will's ears. It was only now he noticed the flasks of liquid in their hands. The alcohol had made them strangely loyal to their dubious heritage and way of life. Will sighed. Nothing to do but run with the wishes of the drink Jack would never be without; rum.
There was some confusion over the last chapter. Will was NOT injured. He was just watching. *Orli fans start to breathe again. *
Ok, as if you hadn't guessed, this has been a really hard chapter to write. Seriously, no inspiration at all. So if it's a stinker that shouldn't be read by man nor beast, I apologise.
So, here we go.
***********************************************************
Chapter Twenty-Nine – Listen to the Rum
"You didn't do a very good job, Mr Turner. Sparrow was still alive."
Will stepped over the pirate's body. The Blacksmith was still gripping his sword. Loua smiled pleasantly at him. Will thrust the blade forward. The smile didn't change. It didn't even falter as the woman slumped to the floorboards.
Elizabeth had knelt down next to Jack. She propped his head up on her knees, and tried to inspect his wound. She tried to avoid looking at the dead features of the late Commodore James Norrington. The man's pale skin and white wig stood out in the darkness of the room. It was eerie, watching him, and not seeing a rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.
Will shook Loua's voluminous cloak. A small, black jewel tumbled to the floor. It's once perfect surface was smashed beyond repair. He shrugged, and dropped the useless thing to the floor.
"Is Jack alright?"
"He will be if we can get him somewhere safe."
Will cast around somewhat sarcastically.
"I don't see anywhere."
Elizabeth growled angrily. She ripped some more cloth off her jacket, removed Jack's makeshift bandage, and replaced it with the new cloth. The wound looked pretty ugly. She couldn't help but feel angry against Will. He hadn't been himself, obviously, but good friends didn't just stab each other.
"We take him aboard the 'Dauntless'."
"Oh? And how will the Navy like that? They've tried to hang him twice, to our knowledge!"
"Then we take him to his cabin. The Navy must have cleaned off the other crew."
"They'll want the 'Pearl'."
Elizabeth beat her fist against the wall.
"Will! Help me here! Perhaps Jack's old crew are down in the brig. Perhaps some of them."
"Why will the Navy give them back?"
A cold, hard determination coloured Elizabeth's cheeks.
"We return Norrington's body, if they give us Jack's crew."
"Elizabeth!"
Elizabeth stood up. She shot an angry look at Will. He felt his resolve soften. The girl was close to tears. She started to march up the stairs. Will grabbed her shoulder, and went up to the deck. Elizabeth silently knelt down next to Jack and traced his jaw and cheeks with her finger.
"You'll be all right. I'll make sure of it."
Up on deck, the Navy were milling about, awaiting the return of the Commodore. Will hastened up the stairs.
"Mr Turner! Thank God you're safe. Where's the Commodore?"
"I'm afraid, Lieutenant Gillette, that he's dead."
The Navy men started to murmur uncertain rumours. Already their minds were finding the person the place and the weapon.
"It was Sparrow, wasn't it?"
"No, it was Loua. The Captain of the 'Raven'."
"Oh, of course. And you're not protecting you're friend, by any chance?"
"I don't lie."
"Your previous record is far from white, Turner."
Will steeled himself for his arduous task. He took a deep breath.
"Let Jack's crew go free, Lieutenant."
"You've cracked, Turner. That woman has driven you mad."
"I am far from mad. Give me the crew, and I'll give you the Commodore."
Gillette smiled smugly.
"Ahh, you are obviously well on your way to becoming akin to Mr Sparrow, aren't you? Hostage taking and ransom now, is it?"
Will clenched his fists.
"It's Captain Sparrow."
Silence. Gillette stared at him. He drew a gun from his belt and aimed it at Will's throat.
"Men! Take Mr Turner aboard."
Elizabeth could sense there was something wrong. There was no, busy scuffling. No active movement. She crept up the stairs. Will was being marched onto the 'Dauntless'. Elizabeth saw something dark flicker by the main cabin door. God, she was hallucinating now.
Rushing back down to her patient she was in a quandary. Another sword lay nearby. Elizabeth picked it up. She waved it experimentally. Eventually she dropped it.
"Jack! Please wake up, please!"
Back to slapping his cheeks gently. She needed him. If she was honest, in more ways than one. His eyes flickered, but no words. Then, his eyes opened fully.
"'Lizzabeth?"
Elizabeth smiled weakly. He grinned at her.
"Sorry, must've dozed off there, love."
He tried to sit up, valiantly, but to no avail. He would've fallen back and knocked his head hard if Elizabeth hadn't grabbed him first. They sat there, in a somewhat confused silence, as Jack tried to stop the world spinning in front of him.
Again, a fruitless effort. The more his mind attempted to steady things, the worse it got.
"Jack?"
A small, meek feminine voice filtered into his swirling conscience. He turned with a sickening dizziness to face her.
"Jack, just try and stand up. Just till we get to your cabin."
He nodded. It wasn't a good idea, as it made his vision rock like a ship in a storm. Swaying and wobbling more than usual he stood up, leaning on Elizabeth heavily. Together they started up the stairs.
The crew of the 'Raven' had taken one look at the well-armed Navy vessel that had assailed the 'Black Pearl', and sailed hastily away. Gillette watched as the speck of the ship vanished over the horizon. He shrugged. He was sure it would eventually be captured, and it's crew hung.
Mr Turner had certainly put up a fight. He was down in the brig now, crammed in with the other miscreants caught earlier. The ship was floating a good deal lower as a result of that raid. Gillette was extremely proud of all this. All that remained was to find and collect the Commodore's body, rescue Miss Elizabeth Swann from the unsuitable company she was no doubt with, and sail back to Port Royale. Oh, and hang Sparrow. But that went without saying. A mass hanging in fact, for all these villains, but a 'special' one for the infamous Captain. In respect, of course, to the Commodore.
Milla crouched in the cabin. She was terrified. She was also the only sister left. A sudden creak at the door made her look up from her hiding place under the table. It was the girl, and she wasn't alone; an apparently dizzy and injured Jack Sparrow was leaning on her. As soon as the odd couple reached the bed, he slipped out of her arms and collapsed in a dead faint.
The girl looked agitated. Elizabeth, that was her name. Hastily, she shut the door, sneaking an anxious peek outside. Checking on her gallant rescuers, just to see that they weren't going to rescue her anytime soon, obviously.
Elizabeth knew instinctively that someone else was present in the cabin. She could feel their eyes, pressing on her. Turning slowly, she found herself facing an old wooden desk. Elizabeth gulped, and clutched at the sword she'd brought with her from the brig. With a cry, she lunged the blade into the space under the table. A shriek rent the air. Elizabeth leapt back in horror. She hadn't expected to actually stab anybody. Which was strange, because why else had she done it? A question she would no doubt wrestle with in wakeful night hours to come.
Crouching down hesitantly, she saw a fold of black cloth, and knew just who it was. Her first thought was thankfulness that it wasn't a newly escaped and hiding William Turner. Her second was an uncertainty if the person was actually dead. She poked the curled up form with her finger. It shivered violently, and uncurled somewhat. Its arms opened out, dragging the voluminous sleeves with them across the dusty floor. There was a hole through one sleeve. Interestingly enough, Elizabeth could see pieces of a shattered gem caught in the fabric fibres.
What was of most alarm to Miss Swann though, was the thick, dark red substance that seemed to be flowing from the other's chest, soaking into the cloak. A pale and shocked face stared at Elizabeth with wide-eyed amazement. But only for a few, unreal seconds, before it flopped forward, the eyes unseeing, the mouth never to speak again.
'The curse is gone.' Milla Raven's last thought before eternity claimed her.
Will surveyed the pirates around him. Most of the drunkenness seemed to have worn off. Now they were quiet, sullen. They seemed to know him as Bill Turner's son, and he had had a sort of grudging acceptance. But now nobody spoke. It was, they all knew, the gallows.
Will did recognise some of Jack's crew. No Ana or Gibbs though. They were probably dead now, he decided. Hanging in the breeze in Port Royal. Very soon Jack would be hurried down here, Elizabeth into a fancy cabin above, and then back home, ready for the biggest murder ever seen in an English colony.
"What ye think they'll do wit the 'Pearl', lad?"
Will looked up. A grizzled old sailor was looking at him from the opposite cell.
"Probably sink her. Or turn her into a Navy vessel. Why?"
The other man sniffed. He looked at his companions, who nodded. Turning back to Will, he declared:
"We can't 'ave that! C'mon boys, the 'Pearl's pride of 'our' bloody Navy! We oughta get 'er back!"
The men all sounded drunk, suddenly, to Will's ears. It was only now he noticed the flasks of liquid in their hands. The alcohol had made them strangely loyal to their dubious heritage and way of life. Will sighed. Nothing to do but run with the wishes of the drink Jack would never be without; rum.