Chapter 2: The Chain Gang
The two escaped pirates scurried across the vast greenery with the eating aching urgency that the situation called for, and Ragetti had an even more pressing problem weighing heavily on his mind or more precisely on his bladder. Although being as dense as they were, it did not take them long to realize that they had lost their courtesy guards . . . and themselves. They soon dropped down in a cove of trees and were gasping for their breath. They leaned up against either side of a sturdy palm tree. It had been a long time since either of them felt the need to run from an enemy muchless draw breath. So, their bodies had to get used to the idea again. After all, they were not the type of pirates that could meet an enemy eye to eye, (and Ragetti would much rather not since he had only one real eye left, and he intended on keeping it). They were more of the snatch and grab and run away back to the ship while everyone else was still fighting. There had been many advantages to being undead.
It did not take long for the pressures of escape and the breath to be recaptured for Ragetti before his other pressures made itself well known. He stood up from the tree and spotted a proper bush. He didn't get far, considering the fact that he was still firmly attached by an one foot chain to Pintel's wrist. The smaller rounder and older pirate, not having recovered as quickly as his companion (and not having that particular pressing problem), gave Ragetti a withering look.
"What in the name of the seven 'Ells are ye tryin' to do now, you numbskull?" he complained.
"I told ye. I gotta go, and NOW!!" Pintel grumbled some not so nice pirate language not suitable for most audiences, and he pulled himself up. Ragetti made his way to the bush like a man with a purpose. The older pirate, exasperated, had no choice but to follow.
"Some privacy, if ye don't be mindin'!" the taller pirate complained.
Pintel gave him a firm yank to the connecting chain and crossed his arms. He glared up at his taller companion. "And pray, where can I be going if we're chained together, you twit!"
Ragetti acquired one of those blank looks that he was so good at and mouthed, "Oh."
So, after only a few awkward moments and a couple of crude unnecessary comments from Pintel about miniatures, Ragetti finally got the relief he so needed. The two pirates came to the firm unmovable conclusion that they needed to find their way out of this jungle and back to civilization to get separated before one or the other was hauling the other's not so lively or not so undead corpse around.
Now most people could find their way out of this bit of greenery fairly easy, because it was not that dense. In fact, it was that bit of greenery that grows behind and between the buildings that face out onto the busy streets. After all, the port empty well into the city. Of course, most people could count to ten with their gloves off. No one could accuse Pintel and Ragetti of being most people. Pintel, confident in his fine sense of direction, led Ragetti around the rough terrain for nearly an hour. Even the not so subtle sounds of the busy streets of Port Royal were enough of a hint of the proper direction or where they actually were.
Finally, hunger, thirst, and exhausted frustration won out, and the two escaped prisoners collapsed under some shrubbery. They were too tired to even blame each other for their present predicament. They may have dozed in the midday heat or they just lost track of time. Ragetti sat up suddenly as if out of a dream with a thoughtful look on his face (a very rare occurrence indeed!). He sniffed the air as does a rabbit that is seeking enemies.
"I smell bread!" he commented.
"Of all the men I have had the misfortune of meeting, ye are the one with the greatest abyssal pit of a stomach! I know there ain't much room up there between yer ears, but can't ye be thinkin' of something other than food all the time!"
"I ain't kiddin', Pintel. I smell bread a-cooking," he insisted, as he continued to sniff the air.
"Bread don't cook, ye bloody idiot. It bakes," Pintel growled.
"Oh, come on. It beats bein' lost," Ragetti pointed out, "Just 'ave a sniff."
"I ain't fallin' for that one! There be no way I be sniffin' the air downwind of ye! Ye haven't had a bathing in ten years and countin'!" Nevermind the fact that neither had he.
Ragetti didn't care. His belly calleth, and he followeth. Pintel, being quite fond of his hand, had no choice but to follow his determined companion. Sense of direction may not have been one of their strong points (their odor won that one), but Ragetti's stomach was not about to steer them wrong. He still had a lot of work to do to make up for the last ten years to his internal organs. His stomach came first with the food, then later, he would take care of his liver with the rum. So, under the guidance of the half blind, they found themselves at the back yard of a bakery. Outside there was a pile of firewood for the oven and the stereo-typical ax in the stump.
Pintel's eyes lit up. A divorce from his present partner was now in order. Ragetti, having a hard enough time keeping track of his own thoughts, certainly didn't follow Pintel's thoughts. (He was often better off for it!) The smaller pirate gave a firm yank to the chain and artfully avoiding a good squashing experience from his fellow. He pointed to the ax, then he pointed to the chain links between their wrists. Ragetti looked confused. Things were back to normal.
"We can take the ax and break the chains with it, you nit!" he explained slowly and carefully.
"Oh," replied the other as he nodded.
Pintel hefted the ax unsteadily in his right hand. He raised it clumsily, as Ragetti's hand raised with his. It didn't help that Pintel's hands were chained together by only a foot of chain. It didn't help matters any that one foot chain was all the leeway between the two men, and it was not enough give for a proper swing, and the aim was really of the most unsteady type. Of course, Pintel couldn't hit the ocean with the ship's daily sewage on one of his better days. There was little wonder why the Black Pearl was such a pig's sty when Captain Sparrow got it back.
Feeling more than a little bit of misgivings about his position, Ragetti cried out, "Wait!"
"What?" complained Pintel, as he lowered the ax, before he did serious injury to his companion or himself, "Ye haven't gone yeller belly on me, now have ye?"
"Well, not exactly . . . well, mebbe," the taller pirate answered nervously, "I mean, I already got a wooden eye and all. I don't want a wooden hand to be going with it. If this keeps up, I will end up as a major termite feeding ground."
"Now, now. Who's ever heard of a pirate with a wooden hand. It be more like a metal hook," soothed the ax wielder.
"I ain't feelin' any better 'bout this!" returned the potential victim.
"Oh, just suck it up and be a man 'bout it!"
Pintel raised the ax and stumbled a bit. Ragetti closed his eyes tight and clenched his teeth tight. The ax was suddenly yanked from the smaller swarthy pirate's hand. Pintel uttered a none too kindly sea dog type of word, that shouldn't have been used in mixed company, and mixed company was exactly what it was. Feeling the shift of the weight, Ragetti opened his right wooden eye, and he saw nothing but darkness. Then he opened the other eye. Seeing the woman behind the confused Pintel, he let out a heavy sigh of relief. He gave her a completely unconvincing innocent smile.
A woman in her late twenties with short cropped dark hair and matching dark eyes, that said that she had seen a might too much of the rough life of Port Royal, stood behind Pintel. She wore a flour covered dress and apron, and her burn scarred arms were also covered with the flour as if she had been making the bread that Ragetti smelled at this late hour of the day. She held the ax in her hands, and she had a no nonsense stern look on her face.
Pintel turned about slowly and held his hands up in yield. Ragetti, having no options left in the matter, due to the chains between them, did the same.
The two escaped pirates scurried across the vast greenery with the eating aching urgency that the situation called for, and Ragetti had an even more pressing problem weighing heavily on his mind or more precisely on his bladder. Although being as dense as they were, it did not take them long to realize that they had lost their courtesy guards . . . and themselves. They soon dropped down in a cove of trees and were gasping for their breath. They leaned up against either side of a sturdy palm tree. It had been a long time since either of them felt the need to run from an enemy muchless draw breath. So, their bodies had to get used to the idea again. After all, they were not the type of pirates that could meet an enemy eye to eye, (and Ragetti would much rather not since he had only one real eye left, and he intended on keeping it). They were more of the snatch and grab and run away back to the ship while everyone else was still fighting. There had been many advantages to being undead.
It did not take long for the pressures of escape and the breath to be recaptured for Ragetti before his other pressures made itself well known. He stood up from the tree and spotted a proper bush. He didn't get far, considering the fact that he was still firmly attached by an one foot chain to Pintel's wrist. The smaller rounder and older pirate, not having recovered as quickly as his companion (and not having that particular pressing problem), gave Ragetti a withering look.
"What in the name of the seven 'Ells are ye tryin' to do now, you numbskull?" he complained.
"I told ye. I gotta go, and NOW!!" Pintel grumbled some not so nice pirate language not suitable for most audiences, and he pulled himself up. Ragetti made his way to the bush like a man with a purpose. The older pirate, exasperated, had no choice but to follow.
"Some privacy, if ye don't be mindin'!" the taller pirate complained.
Pintel gave him a firm yank to the connecting chain and crossed his arms. He glared up at his taller companion. "And pray, where can I be going if we're chained together, you twit!"
Ragetti acquired one of those blank looks that he was so good at and mouthed, "Oh."
So, after only a few awkward moments and a couple of crude unnecessary comments from Pintel about miniatures, Ragetti finally got the relief he so needed. The two pirates came to the firm unmovable conclusion that they needed to find their way out of this jungle and back to civilization to get separated before one or the other was hauling the other's not so lively or not so undead corpse around.
Now most people could find their way out of this bit of greenery fairly easy, because it was not that dense. In fact, it was that bit of greenery that grows behind and between the buildings that face out onto the busy streets. After all, the port empty well into the city. Of course, most people could count to ten with their gloves off. No one could accuse Pintel and Ragetti of being most people. Pintel, confident in his fine sense of direction, led Ragetti around the rough terrain for nearly an hour. Even the not so subtle sounds of the busy streets of Port Royal were enough of a hint of the proper direction or where they actually were.
Finally, hunger, thirst, and exhausted frustration won out, and the two escaped prisoners collapsed under some shrubbery. They were too tired to even blame each other for their present predicament. They may have dozed in the midday heat or they just lost track of time. Ragetti sat up suddenly as if out of a dream with a thoughtful look on his face (a very rare occurrence indeed!). He sniffed the air as does a rabbit that is seeking enemies.
"I smell bread!" he commented.
"Of all the men I have had the misfortune of meeting, ye are the one with the greatest abyssal pit of a stomach! I know there ain't much room up there between yer ears, but can't ye be thinkin' of something other than food all the time!"
"I ain't kiddin', Pintel. I smell bread a-cooking," he insisted, as he continued to sniff the air.
"Bread don't cook, ye bloody idiot. It bakes," Pintel growled.
"Oh, come on. It beats bein' lost," Ragetti pointed out, "Just 'ave a sniff."
"I ain't fallin' for that one! There be no way I be sniffin' the air downwind of ye! Ye haven't had a bathing in ten years and countin'!" Nevermind the fact that neither had he.
Ragetti didn't care. His belly calleth, and he followeth. Pintel, being quite fond of his hand, had no choice but to follow his determined companion. Sense of direction may not have been one of their strong points (their odor won that one), but Ragetti's stomach was not about to steer them wrong. He still had a lot of work to do to make up for the last ten years to his internal organs. His stomach came first with the food, then later, he would take care of his liver with the rum. So, under the guidance of the half blind, they found themselves at the back yard of a bakery. Outside there was a pile of firewood for the oven and the stereo-typical ax in the stump.
Pintel's eyes lit up. A divorce from his present partner was now in order. Ragetti, having a hard enough time keeping track of his own thoughts, certainly didn't follow Pintel's thoughts. (He was often better off for it!) The smaller pirate gave a firm yank to the chain and artfully avoiding a good squashing experience from his fellow. He pointed to the ax, then he pointed to the chain links between their wrists. Ragetti looked confused. Things were back to normal.
"We can take the ax and break the chains with it, you nit!" he explained slowly and carefully.
"Oh," replied the other as he nodded.
Pintel hefted the ax unsteadily in his right hand. He raised it clumsily, as Ragetti's hand raised with his. It didn't help that Pintel's hands were chained together by only a foot of chain. It didn't help matters any that one foot chain was all the leeway between the two men, and it was not enough give for a proper swing, and the aim was really of the most unsteady type. Of course, Pintel couldn't hit the ocean with the ship's daily sewage on one of his better days. There was little wonder why the Black Pearl was such a pig's sty when Captain Sparrow got it back.
Feeling more than a little bit of misgivings about his position, Ragetti cried out, "Wait!"
"What?" complained Pintel, as he lowered the ax, before he did serious injury to his companion or himself, "Ye haven't gone yeller belly on me, now have ye?"
"Well, not exactly . . . well, mebbe," the taller pirate answered nervously, "I mean, I already got a wooden eye and all. I don't want a wooden hand to be going with it. If this keeps up, I will end up as a major termite feeding ground."
"Now, now. Who's ever heard of a pirate with a wooden hand. It be more like a metal hook," soothed the ax wielder.
"I ain't feelin' any better 'bout this!" returned the potential victim.
"Oh, just suck it up and be a man 'bout it!"
Pintel raised the ax and stumbled a bit. Ragetti closed his eyes tight and clenched his teeth tight. The ax was suddenly yanked from the smaller swarthy pirate's hand. Pintel uttered a none too kindly sea dog type of word, that shouldn't have been used in mixed company, and mixed company was exactly what it was. Feeling the shift of the weight, Ragetti opened his right wooden eye, and he saw nothing but darkness. Then he opened the other eye. Seeing the woman behind the confused Pintel, he let out a heavy sigh of relief. He gave her a completely unconvincing innocent smile.
A woman in her late twenties with short cropped dark hair and matching dark eyes, that said that she had seen a might too much of the rough life of Port Royal, stood behind Pintel. She wore a flour covered dress and apron, and her burn scarred arms were also covered with the flour as if she had been making the bread that Ragetti smelled at this late hour of the day. She held the ax in her hands, and she had a no nonsense stern look on her face.
Pintel turned about slowly and held his hands up in yield. Ragetti, having no options left in the matter, due to the chains between them, did the same.