RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL

I'mmmm baaaaaaaack! Er, sorry for the long wait. I didn't abandon this story, nor have I gotten Writer's Block (knock on wood). See, in this post you're actually getting ALL of Chapter Four. ALL of it. Every single last word. Every bit of punctuation. Yep, that's right.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Could you make it any more clearer?

ME: ALL of it.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's right, freak.

There WILL be another wait for Chapter Five, HOWEVER, when it is posted, you will also get ALL of it. ALL of it.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's enough.

I have next week off from school (HALLELUJAH!), so Chapter Five should be up by October 10th. And you can thank the length of this chapter (and the lack of grammar mistakes) to Crazy Cousin Adam, who betaed it.


Chapter Four: Oceans of Trouble, the Rest of It

Anamaria glanced sharply behind her as she stepped into her cabin and closed the door. After making absolutely sure she was alone, she unlocked the large sea chest at the foot of her bunk, where she kept her few articles of clothing and possessions.

She hesitated, looking down into the depths of the chest. This would be her first chance to look at the object she had uncovered while plundering the Duty Free. And yet...she did not want to touch it. She shuddered with an almost revulsion at the thought of feeling it in her hands again, but she did want to look at it...so she pushed aside the ragged, unwashed clothing covering it up until she saw it.

It looked just as it had when she'd seen it last. Large and round and shiny—the small light in Anamaria's cabin, a candle flickering feebly at her feet, fell on it in a way that caused it to almost glitter. She reached out for it, and her hands stopped halfway there, but she shook her head at her own foolishness and picked it up.

She knew what it was, now. She had seen pearls before, but never colored black, and never this large. Anamaria felt almost giddy at the thought of how much money this black pearl could bring her. It was worth enough for her to get another boat, she thought wryly, a better one.

She didn't know how long she sat there, contemplating the black pearl and what it could bring her, as the candle's flame sank lower and lower. It was almost as though the black pearl sucked all the light from the room hungrily until there was none left; then the candle sputtered and went out.

The sudden absence of light startled her, causing her to drop the pearl. It rolled along the floor a few feet away. Anamaria reached to retrieve it, and, as she did, she could have sworn she saw a flickering inside. She picked it up carefully, mindful of its worth, which was now more important than the black pearl itself. She placed it back carefully into the chest.

She realized then that her head was cocked, as if she were listening for something, but for what, she couldn't tell. Anamaria shook her head again at that, and moved to position the clothing back around the pearl and then to close the chest.

She gave the pearl one last look, though, her eyes skittering over the clouded surface that made it seem as though it was filled with an inner fog. The glossy exterior suddenly seemed to crack, and Anamaria thought she saw something, maybe someone peeking out at her from under it. Ghostly dark faces seemed to swirl over the surface of the pearl, grinning and staring almost malevolently up at her; then they stilled and the black pearl was exactly what it had been before.

This so shook Anamaria that she slammed the lid down with a bang and locked the sea chest with trembling fingers. She fled from the chest and out of her cabin, but as she made her rushed exit, she could almost hear many soft voices whispering, "Let us out."

It was a promise, not a plea.

...

Norrington decided to check upon Sparrow and his crew himself. It was late, but he couldn't sleep; a nagging feeling kept telling him that something was going horribly wrong. To humor the voice, he strode along the dark allies between the cells that were lit only by torches evenly planted some space apart.

It was quiet--too quiet. He'd been expecting to hear the usual noises in a prison at night: the sound of prisoners attempting to pick their locks, whistling and trying to lure the key-guarding dog, escape plans whispered loudly from cell to cell, digging noises from where men attempted to dig their way out along with curses as they hit rocks, the rasping noise created when one tries to saw the barred windows open.

He heard none of these, and it worried him. And it wasn't long before he knew the reason why.

He halted outside the cell where two of his marines lay, bound and gagged, inside the cell that had previously been occupied by Sparrow, the pirate who had ransacked the governor's mansions, and Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown occupied the cell still, and had made no noticeable movements.

"What do you have to say for yourselves?" Norrington asked his marines in frustrated anger.

"Manamana," said one sadly.

"Dunflotz," the other agreed.

Upon further investigation, it was discovered that the Black Pearl and her crew were also missing, as were Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann. The last two, however, were found creeping back from where the Black Pearl had formerly been docked. Norrington didn't feel up to dealing with them, so he released them from custody.

At least, he thought, no one bothered to commandeer the Duty FreeThat was the one thought that didn't cause him to wince. The Duty Free was scheduled to set sail for England the next day. The original plan had been to load the ship at dawn, hang Sparrow by midmorning, and set sail with the morning tide.

With the exception of a hanging, the day went as planned. The Duty Free was loaded with only minor difficulties and the passengers boarded with relatively little squabbling. Norrington noticed that both Will and Elizabeth had slight dark rings around their eyes. Will looked torn between emotions; he couldn't seem to be able to decide between excitement and apprehension. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had settled firmly for a look of grim resignation, one that matched what Norrington himself was feeling. He had a feeling that things would not go as expected.

He was right.

By nightfall, it was obvious that the Duty Free was in trouble. She had sailed straight into a patch of ferociously rough weather, one that looked to take her apart. Furious waves pounded her sides, causing the ship to toss and turn like an insomniac.

Will and Elizabeth had been banished to the hold with the other passengers. They had not appreciated this nicety, protesting loudly that their experiences of the previous year made them more than capable of working on the deck.

Norrington refused to concern himself with them at the moment, however. He had more important things to fret about. Number One on his Worry List was the inescapable fact that the Duty Free was being pushed off of her course by the storm at an alarming degree. He was uncomfortably aware that they were no longer headed towards England, but where they were headed, he had no idea. They were, he thought, headed in the opposite direction. But he couldn't be sure. The blindingly thick rain coupled with the dark of the night did a wonderful job of making it impossible to divulge their location.

Then a huge, white-crested wave drew back, like a cobra's head rearing back to strike, and Norrington forgot, for the moment, his location concerns.

...

A frighteningly loud crack caused Elizabeth and Will to look up at each other in concern.

"What was that?" breathed Will in dismay. In his admittedly limited experience at sea, he had learned that sounds such as that were seldom beneficial.

Elizabeth looked stricken. "The mast!" she gasped, and leapt to her feet in a race to the deck.

Will was right behind her when he realized that his feet were sinking in a steadily growing puddle of water. He pushed past Elizabeth and clamored out of the hold, and the sight on the deck caused his breath to catch in his throat. All that was left of the mast was the splintered wood scatted about the deck. Will shook off his inertia in order to find Norrington.

"There's a leak in the hold!" Will bellowed in Norrington's ear. Lightning streaked across the black sky and cold rain fell into his eyes. He mopped his face off with his sleeve and found that the fabric was as wet as his face, but he didn't care.

Crack! Another surge of lightning lit up the night, and then something slammed into the back of Will's head. He heard a sharp ringing in his ears and, vaguely recalling being knocked out with an empty bottle of rum, Will slipped into a cold gray unconscious.

...

He woke up disoriented.

"Where am I?" he murmured dizzily. He was wet. And cold. And he hurt, all over his body but the pain seemed to be centered at the back of his head. He dimly remembered waking up this way a long time ago, opening his water-logged eyes to the vision of Elizabeth's twelve-year-old face.

Elizabeth. Thinking her name brought him to his senses faster than a slap on the face would have. Will focused on his surroundings and nearly yelped in surprise.

"Oh, you're awake," he heard a voice say, and instead of Elizabeth, his eyes found Norrington's face.

"Where's Elizabeth?" demanded Will, sitting up straight in the middle of a longboat.

"Relax," Norrington said mildly. "She's right behind you."

Will turned, and found, to his great relief, Elizabeth, curled up against the sides of the boat, looking damp and ragged and lying there asleep.

The three of them occupied a longboat that had, Will recalled, at one time been attached to the Duty Free. The Duty Free, however, was nowhere in sight. Will did notice several other longboats like the one in which he was situated floating serenely on the tropical blue water of the Caribbean.

Wait. Will blinked. The Caribbean? That couldn't be right. The Duty Free had been headed towards England by way of the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic Ocean, Will remembered, was not this clear turquoise color. It was gray and cold and stormy—much like the way he felt at the moment.

"What happened?" asked Will, appalled.

Norrington looked up. "Well, for starters, you were knocked out."

Will gingerly felt the back of his head. "Got that."

Norrington continued grimly, "The Duty Free was blown off course before it sank."

Will couldn't believe his ears. "It sank?" he murmured. Well, that would explain why he didn't see it anywhere. "Survivors?" Will asked quietly.

Norrington suddenly looked old, as if he'd aged a hundred years in the moments it had taken for Will to ask that question. Old, and very, very tired. The look on his face reminded Will faintly of Jack, when Will had said, "You knew my father."

"Twelve," Norrington said just as quietly.

Will shook his head mentally. Twelve people survived, out of the almost a hundred that had once populated the ship. He was selfishly glad that he and Elizabeth were among them. "So, do you have any idea where we are?" he asked.

Norrington's eyes unfocused to look somewhere on the other side of Will's head "Actually, I do," he said quietly. Will twisted around for a peek of his own, and he was shocked into silence for several minutes by the sight of familiar black sails on a ship that was pulling into sight on the horizon.

...

"Ship ho," warned Marty from the crow's nest of the Black Pearl, and Jack bit back a curse that would have done no one any good, but would have made him feel a lot better.

Jack glanced in the direction in which Marty was pointing. Three or four longboats, right smack-dab in the Black Pearl's way to Tortuga. "Well, stay on course," he said, his curiosity piqued.

The Black Pearl limped ever closer to the longboats. It wasn't until they were almost upon them that Jack could make out individuals. When he did, he nearly fell off his ship in shock. After the shock, however, came a huge amusement.

"Get them on board," Jack told his crew. It didn't take long for the slightly soggy people had clamored aboard the Black Pearl. Three of them Jack knew rather well. "Commodore! So pleasant to see you again, and under such lovely circumstances, too."

Norrington shot him a sour look. Probably wondering why, out of all possible rescuers, he had to be saved by Jack Sparrow, Jack decided.

"Jack!" said Elizabeth, looking confused. "How did you know where we were?"

"I didn't, luv," Jack told her. "It just so happens that you were on my way to Tortuga."

"Tortuga?" said Norrington, looking shocked—and sun burnt. It provided an interesting contrast with the powered-white wig that was his constant companion even now. "But we were headed towards England!"

Jack gave him a pitying look. "I'd say you got lost."

Norrington flushed. "We were knocked off course by a storm."

So what now? Jack thought. What exactly should he do with his sometime enemy, the man who, on occasion, seemed to really want him dead? The last time Jack had enjoyed Norrington's company, the commodore had attempted to hang him...again.

But even though Jack knew Norrington would have had him killed in an instant, he just couldn't bring himself to return the favor. If he had wanted him to die, he would have left him stranded on the longboat.

He wouldn't kill him, Jack decided. He had a better plan in mind; one that took advantage of what Norrington was probably thinking he was going to do to him.

Norrington looked Jack steadily in the eye. Perhaps trying to read his thoughts. Jack stared back, giving him an evaluative look that he knew to be particularly disconcerting. "Tell you what I'll do," Jack said at last, addressing Norrington. "I'll take you and—" he gestured at the damp people recently arrived from the longboats, pointedly ignoring Will and Elizabeth, "—your people to Tortuga with us. From there, you should be able to acquire a ride back to Port Royal."

Norrington winced slightly at the name of the largest remaining pirate's nest in the Caribbean, but he nodded. "Sounds reasonable," he said, looking faintly relieved. Most likely he had been worried that Jack would decide to go through with some barbaric pirate custom and make him walk the plank or something.

"No!" protested Will. "Our destination is England. If we have to go all the way back to Port Royal, it may be to late to find my—"

"No." Jack cut him off before he could finish uttering that sentence. It would no doubt spook the crew considerably if they learned that a man they had thought dead for a good ten years or so had suddenly and mysteriously turned up alive.

He eyed Elizabeth with some interest. The direction Will's last sentence had taken had caused her to flinch. "Absolutely not. As anyone with eyes can see—if they looked—the Black Pearl is not condition to head out on a voyage that her crew has no business being on anyway." That said, he turned and walked away to the relative safety of his cabin.

But even with his back towards Will, Jack could feel him lose it. He heard Will's footsteps following him to the doorway of his cabin. "Why?" demanded Will, moving to block Jack's escape "Why won't you help me find my father?" He hissed in an angry undertone, "I thought he was your friend."

Jack felt his own temper rising. A better question would be why the whelp wouldn't take "no" for an answer. He regarded Will wearily, searching for the explanation Will craved, one that wouldn't be the truth, whatever that was. Will couldn't know the truth. Wavering, he tried to look away from Will's soul-searching gaze, one he must have learned from Elizabeth; acutely aware of an audience's avid interest. Most of them had no idea what they were fighting about, but this in no way served to dampen their curiosity.

Jack made a final, tired wave with his hands. "No," he said simply. The truth was far too embarrassing, and he couldn't think of an appropriate lie. Not one Will would buy, anyway. Will would just have to accept a "no."

...

"What's wrong?" Will asked of Elizabeth once they were alone in the cabin Jack had provided for her. Preoccupied as he might be, it had not escaped his notice that she seemed a bit—oh, he didn't know—upset about something.

Elizabeth just shook her head. "Nothing." She pressed her lips tighter tightly. "Nothing you'd want to hear," she added tightly.

"It is not nothing," Will pursued. "You've been acting strangely ever since we were rescued by Jack."

Elizabeth looked like he had slapped her. "That's not true," she said quietly.

"Yes, it is," said Will, growing annoyed despite himself. "Please tell me what it is."

The familiar look of muted pain stole over Elizabeth's face again—when had it become familiar? Will wondered suddenly.

"I don't believe you," Elizabeth said fiercely, turning away from him and applying herself vigorously with a broom to the dusty floors of the cabin.

"What?" demanded Will.

"You haven't noticed much of anything lately, have you?" she asked bitterly.

"Noticed what?" asked Will again, now completely exasperated with her.

"Me!" Elizabeth exploded all at once. "You look right through me," she said so quietly that Will almost didn't hear her, "like I'm not even here. You haven't seen me since the day you found that—that bloody letter!"

Will brought his fist down hard on a nearby table. "That's not true!"

"Yes, it is," retorted Elizabeth. "As a matter of fact, you don't notice anything anymore. All you think about is finding your father."

"Is that so wrong?" Will challenged her. "You didn't seem to have a problem with me finding people when I rescued you."

"Your father doesn't need to be rescued," she scoffed. "And even if he did, what makes you think that he'd want you to be the one to find him? As I recall, he turned pirate just to get away from you and your mother. So why would he want to see you now? After all, you did end up killing him."

Her words reverberated in the air for several long minutes after they had been spoken, and they both were still, Will stunned; Elizabeth's expression unreadable. Then Elizabeth threw down her broom and walked out the door.

Will didn't follow her.


Wow, that was LONG.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: Oh, stop bragging.

ME: It's nine pages on Word.

CAST OF THOUSANDS: That's very nice. Shut up.

ME: Just let me ask the readers to review, okay?

CAST OF THOUSANDS: WHAT readers?

ME: Oh, no, not THIS again...