RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL

Well, I actually wrote and posted Chapter Three, Scene Six yesterday, but because of my ambivalent feelings about it, I eventually took it down that night. However, I had also written Chapter Three, Scene Seven, and since I deleted Chapter Three, Scene Six, Chapter Three, Scene Seven is now Chapter Three, Scene Six. Making any sense?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Not yet, but the day is young.

I like this chapter MUCH better. Oh, and by the way, I was voted Best Tacky Outfit on Tacky Day at my school yesterday. I'm so proud!


Chapter Three: Jack Attack, Continued

It was later rather than sooner when two marines appeared, one bearing dinner trays and a bundle of dirty, wadded-up clothes; the other bearing arms. Jack realized with some delight that he knew these two. They couldn't swim.

"Lovely to see you again," he exclaimed grandiosely, jumping to his feet and speeding to the cell door. "How do you like it?" he asked, gesturing at his uniform.

They stared at him. The one that had had reddish hair before it had been exchanged for one of those pasty-white wigs said cautiously, "I'm sorry; I don't understand, Mr. Sparrow."

Jack reconsidered. "Then again, perhaps red isn't my color after all. Now, if you'll be so kind as to return my clothes...?"

The larger one, hands full of Jack's clothes, reached out to pass them back to their wearer through the bars. Jack reached out to retrieve them, grabbing the marine's hands along with the clothes, and yanked him to the grate in a tight chokehold.

"What the...?" Jack's prisoner began, but he didn't finish this thought as he began gasping for breath.

"You!" Jack nodded to the other. "Drop that rifle and find the keys." He was obeyed instantly. "Now, open the door and let me out." The cell door was opened and Jack was let out. His seedy-looking cellmate chose this opportunity to free himself as well.

"My thanks, friend," he called as he vanished down the hall.

"You're welcome," Jack said. He bound and gagged his two prisoners and locked them in his cell with the drunken man. He made a show of pretending to swallow the key and saw them gulp several times.

Jack took the time to change back into his pirate clothes and skulked off back to where Elizabeth and Will were still confined. "What took you so long?" she asked irritably, as though she'd never once doubted his return.

He chose to ignore that question. "Come on," he said, opening the door. "Where's me crew?"

Jack's appearance caused the countenances of some of the faces of his crew to turn white. "Jack!" Gibbs exclaimed. "We thought you was dead."

"O ye of little faith," Jack reproved him, but Gibbs just looked confused.

Somehow, they slipped out of the jail without getting caught—a new record for Jack. He headed for the docks. He wanted his ship back.

Several marines were guarding the Black Pearl. They were handily knocked out and tied up by Anamaria and Marty. The crew dispersed themselves over the ship. Jack was the last to board.

Will asked him, "Where will you be going?"

Jack shrugged. "What difference does it make?"

At Will's hurt look, he relented a bit and said, "Tortuga, most likely. But that's not something to be spreading around, savvy?"

He turned to go. He heard Will clear his throat. Jack sighed and turned back to face him. "What is it, whelp?" he asked, a little too patiently.

Will said, almost hesitantly, "Jack, you know what Barbossa did to my father, right?"

The question caused Jack to rock back on his heels. "Aye," he said, not really sure where this line of questioning would be going and more than a little reluctant to find out.

Now Will definitely hesitated. "Do you think he could still be alive?"

"What makes you ask that?" Jack said by way of stalling, his mind working frantically.

Will produced a well-worn letter from the inside of his vest. He handed it to Jack silently. Jack opened it. It was signed "Bill Turner" in handwriting that he immediately identified as Bootstrap's. He checked the date. Six months ago. Huh. "That's interesting," he murmured. He folded it back up and returned it to Will.

Will looked annoyed. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing," he said succinctly.

Will looked ready to leap for Jack's throat. He shook the letter at Jack's face. "There is a chance that my father is alive, and you're going to do nothing?"

Jack whirled to face him. "First of all, he's your father, not mine, so that makes him your responsibility, not mine. Second—there's nothing I can do. You want to go head off on some wild goose chase, fine, but don't drag me into it."

He and Will stood there, glaring daggers, cutlasses, and all the weapons Will had ever forged until Elizabeth positioned herself between them and maneuvered Will away. "Let it go," she told him, and Jack noticed a particular expression on her face—relief, maybe? Interesting, that. "Let's go."

She dragged Will a few steps away from Jack, until Will's feet moved of their own violation. "Good luck, Jack," she called to him over her shoulder.

Jack watched them go, his insides churning with something other than indigestion. He touched his fingers to his hat slowly in a mock salute. "Back at you, luv."


Thankfully, this is the end of Chapter Three, my friends. On to Chapter Four! where we'll see some Anamaria stuff, some Jack reflections, and a decided Plot Twist. Hehehe.