Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property…which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes:  Silly putty is fun. Bounce, bounce, bounce…

I now realize why Mallot's a comic relief. He laughed as though watching the Comedy Network when he and Grapple re-kidnapped Elizabeth. The only reason I'm telling you this is because I have already forgotten why he's so fun to write…Maybe you can remind me? *blinks innocently* ;)

Chapter Six: Whether the Weather Holds

The fog surrounding Isle de Muerta could have easily been cut with a knife, which was exactly what Mallot was trying to do with his dirk. Wildly, he swung the blade through the air and sliced cleanly through the miasma, muttering quiet insults to it. He abruptly stopped when cold water splashed onto his front side from an angered stroke of oars.

"Oy, watch it!" he snapped at Grapple, who growled back in response.

"Yore already soakin' wet, it doesn't make much of a difference!"

Starting to shiver from the combination of the cold water, being soaked for so long, and reminded he was soaked, Jonathan only shot his brother a nasty glance before looking the other way and towards where they were going. In the fog, however, the shapes of the sunken ships that had attempted to sail into the bay were sparse and barely visible.

"Yo ho, yo ho…" Mallot began singing softly, humming the rest of the words for lack of knowing what those words were. He began drumming his bare fingers on the wood of their boat, trying to keep with the tune of the song that had only ever brushed his mind once before. A loud crack broke the air and he suddenly looked around himself, wildly trying to find the source of the noise.


"Relax," Grapple casually said, nudging his head to the oar in his right hand and slapping it against the side again, once again causing the startling sound. The elder of the two tossed the long ponytail of black hair, which had gathered in front of his shoulders, back behind his back where it rested between his shoulder blades. Slouching terribly, he ignored the envious glare Mallot gave him by hiding his vision behind the greasy locks of dark hair that fell before his eyes.

Muttering profanities under his breath, Jonathan turned himself around and gazed at the dissipating fog. The sunken vessels were fewer and manoeuvring around them as his brother had done wasn't so much a task now. Instead, the mist was clearing up suddenly and the sun was once again visible. The island, itself, seemed to be shrinking back into Hell where it came from, getting smaller every stroke of the oars that was taken. The sky was a clear blue, from what the crippled pirate could tell, white clouds rolling across it.

"Y'eh don't have to row anymore, you know. You've done a good share, for the time bein'…"

Grapple snorted and shook his head, pulling his torso and arms back as he rowed back. "You'd do no good. Can't bend yore back or anything, so you'd be slower."

"Suit yourself," Mallot said with a lazy drawl, lying back carefully into the bow of the boat's innards. Tilting his hat over his eyes, he sneered and proclaimed he wasn't going to argue over his brother's choice.

Eventually, his eyes felt heavy regardless they were closed, and the sounds of water being disturbed grew distant. All to suddenly, he lost his cognisant state and went into a peaceful slumber; A sleep that, unfortunately, didn't last long.

Another loud crack like the oar against the boat sounded out, and Jonathan awoke with a start, pushing his hat back and without moving anything but his neck, looked around before remembering he was in a boat.

"Damn, Grapple! Keep it down already!"
"I can't control the weather, you idiot," Grapple spat back, his voice slightly breathy as though he had been enduring some testy physical activity. He paused, rested his arms, and looked down for a moment.


"I told you we could encounter a storm," Trevor said, and as if on cue a light rain started to pour down upon them. He brought the oars in, and after poking his brother in the chest with the wet end of a paddle, he set it down and looked at the sky, which was steadily growing greying and darker.

"Es-Cop-Eh?" Mallot said hopefully, grinning with false innocence. He strained to get up and eventually had to hoist himself up using the railing of their boat to raise his torso, kicking he bag of loot he had rescued out of his way.

Wincing slightly at his back, he brushed a greasy tress of hair from his face. His long hair was just as dark as his brothers, but tended to form in stringy locks that were uneven and fell in front of his face, sometimes curtaining his cheeks. At his shoulders, it bunched into a ponytail with a short end, tied with a dark strip of cloth. He proceeded to tighten the belt around his waist, adjusting the buckle so it went up a notch, just to spite his brother by appearing not overly worried about the oncoming storm.
"Surely we can weather the weather!" Jonathan joked, winking his right eye and avoiding a poke with an oar.

Growling at the naivety of his sibling, Grapple brandished his namesake weapon at the youth before giving up on threatening any sense into him. He picked up the oars again started rowing.

"Look around yourself."

Complying, Mallot took the time to look around their surroundings. All he could see was water…ocean, water, some more ocean, a bit more water, and…ocean. A big blue wet thing just waiting for the storm to hurry up so they would be tossed out of the boat and it could swallow them up.

Biting his lower lip, he failed to notice he had punctured it until he drew blood. Grumbling, he shrugged and grinned at his brother. "Water never hurt us before!" Then, as if to spite him, the weight of the water collected in his tri-corn hat's brims overpowered the cap, and the hat fell in front of his face, drenching his front side.



"That's reassuring," Grapple teased sarcastically. As his brother fussed with his hat, the wind chose the moment to pick up and the ocean water began to churn, slowly at first but it steadily grew violent and the Caribbean storm showed itself.

Rain steadily poured down, and a mere twenty minutes later, perhaps not even, the two were, once again, drenched, cold, miserable, and Mallot had bent his hat out of shape. He had now adopted an angry tone, yelling his complaints over the wind of how long it would take him to fix the hat. Yet his screams suddenly came to an abrupt halt when he chanced a glance to the side. In the distance, a small island, hardly the size of a civilized town, was visible.


"Look! Grapple!" Mallot yelled over the howling winds, yet his brother ignored him. He called out once more, and his brother looked up to where he was pointing. The oars had been abandoned for a while now, and instead his hands clutched the railing of the boat firmly, trying not to get washed overboard.
"I see it!" Trevor yelled back, yet a wave went high and clashed into his side, causing him to choke upon the salty water. In his fit, his grip relaxed and the next wave caught him off guard.

"Oy!" his brother lunged forward, using his mallet to balance himself, yet it was to late. Yet, by some stroke of luck, Grapple wasn't lost. His weapon had come loose from his sash and the single barb on it had hooked onto the railing, not letting the wave take him. The foot and a half of rope and chain that gave the weapon slack went taught and Trevor let out a choking sound, an 'ouf', and a curse word all at the same time.

Things went from unlucky, lucky, and then to unlucky again, but the next incident stole the cake (to which neither pirate had still acquired since the curse had been lifted). An oar, which had long been abandoned in the bottom of their boat, was slammed by a wave sloshing water into the boat. It washed out, yet not before the paddle's head smacked into the side of Grapple's skull. The pirate's eyes rolled once and he tried to lift his head, but staying awake was futile. He became unconscious not a moment after.

"Hey! Stay awake!" Mallot scolded frantically, "I can't exactly complain to myself!"

Had he have dropped his heavy weapon, lunging forward to rescue Trevor might have worked out. He would have grabbed the rope and dragged his brother back into the boat. However, he held firmly onto the handle, and the next lash of water smacked him hard. The hammer twisted in his hand and struck his directly in the face. Dazed, he crumpled over, the pain in his back finishing him off.

~*~