DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl or any of the characters included in the package. I do like to play with them and often end up giving them back worse for the wear. (Especially Captain Jack Sparrow!) ;
CLAIMER: I do, however, own the plot of this story and all my OC therein. Some stay around, some don't. That's life, ne?
Part 8: Disparities in Standpoints
If anyone had regarded the storm as wild the first day, they were terrified when, on that night, the wind picked up further and the waves doubled if not tripled in size and strength. Even the most experienced sea farers aboard were prone to getting seasick as the Black Pearl was tossed mercilessly from wave to wave. Her hull was battered, on the verge of leaking and the foremast had been damaged.
Throughout the storm, only one man had remained on deck, steering his lady through the treacherous waters, willing her to stay afloat. He was soaked to the bone and exhausted from fighting the violent sprays of water that washed across the deck, threatening to deliver him into the cold, dark, watery grasp of his first true mistress. Water rolled from his body as his clothes were no longer able to absorb the salty liquid. The stitches had broken on his arm early into the voyage and the blood loss had weakened him further. Sheer will alone kept him on his feet.
The day passed into night and Jack's remaining strength drained off with the water sloshing from the Pearl's deck.
"Brother,"
The elder prince turned to face the summons and smiled casually at his brother who looked almost a carbon copy of their father. As he took in the younger man's dire expression, the smile slowly slipped away. "What news?"
"The treasure…"
"Yes, yes, what of it?"
"It's vanished."
The older turned white beneath his tan as the immensity of the newly acquired knowledge pressed down on him. "You-you're sure?"
"As sure as father is dead."
The older brother lowered his head in shame, his chin-length black hair falling about his face. "This can't be. Father left the responsibility of protecting the treasure to me. And I have failed. It is likewise my fault that father is dead."
"You did not fail, brother. Nor are you the cause of his death. The one who poisoned him has been dealt with and the treasure's disappearance was inevitable. No doubt some bandits of a sort. Do not fret brother, we shall find it and return it to its proper place."
"I know you speak comfort, but I cannot believe it. Father is dead and the disappearance of the treasure shall lead to the kingdom's demise and a casting of vile luck upon the land."
"You are pharaoh now. Make your own luck."
Unnoticed by both royal brothers, a serpent slithered noiselessly into the room. Its forked tongue slipped from its mouth and twitched, sensing its surroundings.
"I wish I could brother, I wish I could."
With the speed of a lightning strike, the serpent lashed out with fangs bared and dug two perfect holes into the older brother's ankle. Gasping in pain, he dropped to one knee and clutched at the wound. Thinking quickly the younger drew a knife from his belt and imbedded it in the snake's head. The serpent twitched a few times before finally falling still.
Looking up to his brother with wide eyes, the younger was terrified to find the venom had already taken its toll. Cold sweat trickled down his back and face.
The throne of Egypt now fell to him.
- - - - -
Dawn came with the changing of night to day and with it came the first break in the storm. Finally, the tremendous gale had blown itself out. The zephyrs had died to gentle breezes and the waves had smoothed out. The Black Pearl bobbed lightly atop the ocean's glossy surface battered and broken but still managing to look majestic.
Ana felt the change as she slowly slipped into consciousness the next morning and was pleased to find warm sunlight filtering through the great cabin windows. Stretching, she rose from the bed and shoved her feet into the boots lying near the foot of the bed. She strode out onto the deck and took a deep breath of the warm, salty air. A gust of wind rose up from the west and its silky tendrils sent a shiver down Ana's spine. Looking up to the quarterdeck, a cord of fear strung in her heart. Jack was gone.
She took the steps two at a time and once upon the quarterdeck she spotted Jack. He lay sprawled out on the deck a few feet from the wheel and the rope about his waist was drawn taught. His rasping breath could be heard from where she stood and every once in awhile he shivered violently. Blood was flowing weakly from the reopened gash on his arm, staining the deck of his beloved ship a darker black.
Silently, she cut the rope from around him and lugged him to his feet, noting the dark pool of water that had collected where he lay. Bearing all his weight, she dragged him down onto the main deck and into his cabin. She quickly stripped him down to his breeches and set him to lie on the bed. His skin was damp and cold and he hadn't made any indication of returning to consciousness. She pulled all the extra blankets from the sea chest as well as two dry shirts. Laying them on the foot of the bed, she fetched a needle and a spool of strong thread from a desk drawer which she used to re-stitched his arm, not fretting about the force of the act. After returning the thread and needle to the drawer, she put both shirts on him and then wrapped him tightly in a bundle of wool blankets. Next, she scurried below deck to fetch hot broth and a new helmsman.
Fire raged through the ancient streets, coloring once-white walls the deepest black. Bolts of lightning forked from the dark sky and hit structures, causing them to explode in waves of flying debris. Gale-force winds tore through the city, knocking down what few shelters remained as rain fell heavily but did nothing to squelch the fires.
"Pharaoh!"
The young ruler looked towards the call with panicked eyes. A messenger staggered into the palace and collapsed, gasping for breath.
"What is it? Speak, now!"
"The…the guardians…"
The pharaoh took in a sharp breath, knowing exactly what was meant by the cryptic statement. He turned stony eyes on the four elemental powers competing over the kingdom. His kingdom.
Ana slipped silently back into Jack's cabin with a mug of steaming broth. She rather doubted that he would be awake and able to eat, but she set the mug on the table all the same. Looking over at the bundled form on the bed, she was pleased to see that he was breathing easier and the shivering had eased slightly. She checked his forehead and was grateful that he wasn't exactly freezing nor did he have a fever. Ana settled herself in a chair with a sigh and took up the mug of broth.
No sense in letting it go to waste.
- - - - -
Will was restless.
He had been confined to his quarters for the duration of the storm. The whole time he had felt worthless and sick with himself. Here he was in the safety of the hold while, reportedly, Jack was fighting the storm alone. He had paced the confines more times than he could remember and more likely than not, he had started to wear a groove in the floor.
Guilt and trepidation were churning in his gut.
He still felt bad about denying Jack help when he needed it and now he was being completely useless during the storm. Anxiety was taking its toll as well. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Jack Sparrow since their last encounter almost a month ago, of which he bore the scars.
Unable to stand waiting any longer, Will burst from the bunking area and headed down the small corridor to the stairs. Halfway there, a slim form appeared from an offset doorway and unexpectedly rammed into him.
The two men quickly regained their footing and the smaller nodded to Will in apology. "I'm sorry; I was in such a rush to get up on deck that all common sense left me."
"It's alright. We all want to get out in the sun," Will replied good-naturedly. He motioned for the shorter man to lead and the two made their way topside. Once on deck, Will decided he best get to know the young man whom looked too proper to be sailing on a pirate vessel. "My name is William Turner, what is your name friend?"
"Apologies once more, where are my manners? My name is Dozell Wilkins."
"May I inquire of your business aboard the Black Pearl?"
Dozell grinned, knowing full well that the blacksmith was simply trying to be polite while collecting as much information as possible. He'd let Will know anything he wanted to know…but he could not give away too much. "I'm here on a business venture, if you will. Captain Sparrow was courteous enough to offer me rooming on this fine ship."
"Ah." Will nodded. "Speaking of Captain Sparrow, have you seen him lately? I need to speak with him."
"Will!" Will and Dozell looked quickly towards the sharp cry from Ana who was standing just outside the closed captain's cabin.
"Excuse me," Will muttered with a friendly nod before pacing towards Ana. Dozell watched until the two met, then sauntered casually below to collect his rations from the galley.
"What is it?" Will's voice held a fair measure of concern, and wisely.
"Jack'll see you now," she said quietly with a dangerous edge, stepping aside to allow him passage into the cabin. "Don' do anythin' stupid whelp."
Will paused in puzzlement and Ana caught on to his confusion.
"'e ordered me t' stay out."
Will nodded slowly, still not fully understanding, but he progressed into the cabin all the same. Once inside, he jumped as Ana slammed the door shut behind him and heard the stubborn thuds of her boots taking up a guarding stance just outside the door.
"Don' act so jumpy Will. Have a seat."
Will looked away from the door upon hearing the familiar slur and froze when he saw Jack lounging carelessly on one of the chairs, his booted feet propped up on the tabletop and his hat pulled down over his eyes. Realizing the pirate must be waiting for a response of some sort, he scurried over to the chair across the table and sat as he was told.
"'bout bloody time," Jack muttered, swinging his legs from the tabletop and letting his chair fall back down to all four legs.
As Will studied him, he noticed there was definitely something different. The man before him was slumped over the tabletop but not in Jack's usual stature. It was slightly different; a different kind of slump. Before he could identify the cause of the feeling, it was gone. Jack sat in his usual posture and leaned back in the chair, being careful to keep his eyes hidden in the shadows of his hat.
"So, Anamaria tells me tha' ye want a place on th' Pearl?"
Will's attention was drawn to Jack's right upper arm, where traces of red had seeped through the large shirtsleeve. His brows knit, but he remembered to speak moments later, cued by the pirate's expectant silence. "Yes, temporarily. Perhaps a month or two."
The pirate did not answer. Will grew increasingly uncomfortable in his chair, and tried his best to hide his apprehension.
"Very well Mr. Turner," Jack said at last, putting an ease to the tension in the small room, "You may stay aboard th' Pearl."
Will rose slowly, still very much reluctant to turn his back on the pirate.
"Oh, and Will?"
"Yes?"
"Relax lad. 'm still me, I swear t' tha' on pain of death."
Will was speechless. How the pirate had been able to sense his fretfulness and conclude the events on which Will's mind had dwelt throughout the meeting without actually seeing him was beyond the blacksmith's comprehension. A golden grin pulled at the corner of Jack's mouth. He looked up as the smile faded and for the first time Will was able to indicate what was so different about the man.
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