Chapter 9
"Sea Dogs and Jack Tars"
The Black Pearl was definitely a pearl and a rare gem among ocean vessels, the fear and partial desire of every reasonable seaman's heart. Black as midnight from her keel to the tips of her masts and bowsprit, she held the advantage of invisibility when under the cloak of darkness. She was large and hefty, and yet inexplicably swift beyond comparison; there was no other ship like her in the Caribbean– in the world, even. Not since Bootstrap Bill and Jack Sparrow sunk The Abyss. Having traveled to all four corners of the earth, Jack Sparrow would've been one to know such. But, somehow, The Abyss had returned… and she brought hell to pay.
Jack had fought many a challenging battle in his lifetime. For some of them he had the scars to prove it, some of them gave him no scars and others gave him scars of a kind that were not tangible nor apparent to any save those who knew him the best. This battle, though it held potential to scar him like any other, this one was bound to go down in his books as a significantly large bump in the usually smooth path of his life. And not even he could tell exactly why. Somehow he just knew that it would start another strange event into its happening.
The only ship that could defy the Black Pearl would have her in a tight spot. Too tight for Jack's liking. The last time he had fought The Abyss, she had been challenge enough– the Black Pearl had barely made it out in one piece and it was only because of Bootstrap's expertise on ships that they were able to figure out a clever plan. And it was nothing short of disheartening to recall that The Abyss had been in the hands of ridiculously inexperienced sailors at that time. The men Jack now fought, he soon came to realize, were far from unversed ninnies. In fact, they had quite a large and heaping serving of know-how hefted to them and it made a frown crease in his brow. If it had been challenging then, then it would be horrendously difficult now. It was a good thing Jack had also learned more as well, over the years. Much, much more. Though he had a crew of handsomely well versed gentlemen– with, of course, a pair of lasses worth twice their salt– and a mind filled with experience and ideas to challenge a mad hatter, he hadn't a Bootstrap to save his skin again. He could only hope that ten years of trials could show their worth to him and make up for his missing figure. There was a lot he had to fill in for.
He flexed his fingers a bit, his sweaty skin sticking slightly to the smooth wood of the Pearl's helm where he held it, as he lightly clicked his teeth together through closed lips in hard thought. Anyone looking on him would have seen a completely different Jack from the one that someone the day before would have known. A quiet intensity seemed to take hold of him– an intensity of thought. There was a part of Jack that suggested he was thinking all the time. His dark eyes were always bright with a guarded intelligence and with every little flicker and wink it was evident there was a calculating present. Connections between to distant objects were being formed; concoctions of distracting sights and sounds never to be expected; a section of his mind was always soaking up little details of things about him for whenever he may need them–whether it be as soon as possible for him or five years later. But this was different. A part of him wasn't turning thoughts over in his mind– the whole of him was. Devoutly.
The Abyss was very dangerous now. He'd have to sink her or risk being sunk, and he couldn't let that happen. Not to his beloved lady. But.…
'We have your governor and the young gentleman in our care…'
His brow furrowed and his mouth sunk low in a frown.
The Abyss was very dangerous now. He'd have to sink her or risk being sunk and he couldn't let that happen. Not to his beloved lady. But Governor Swann was on The Abyss. And, to his chagrin and disadvantage… so was Will. To attack or sink the ship would very much be dangerous and even life-threatening for said prisoners.
But he especially couldn't go back on word given. Nor could he betray his friends. Especially friends long dead.
'Don' worry, Bill. I'll get 'im back.'
Jack knew very well that he had already pushed himself into a situation too far for pulling back. The Abyss and her captain already knew that Jack Sparrow was on their tail and were doing all within their power to avoid him and his ship. Possibly and surprisingly more powerful than the Black Pearl, the copy-ship was dangerous for all if placed in the wrong hands. And it most definitely was a threat to lives along the many coasts of the Spanish Main. That would not do at all.
Every possible inch of canvas was at work in catching the wind and pulling Jack's loved ship along. He himself remained at the helm, shrugging off prods from a crew who insisted he go below and get some rest. They'd need someone who could catch them up the quickest, and only Jack could meld into the Pearl's build the way he did, feeling the water's push and the winds pull more acutely than one might perceive. Despite their efforts, however, their opponent was a regrettably even match; every inch of canvas repeated as precisely as a déjàvu. And the gap between remained as constant and unchanging as the measure between two parallel lines.
Mr. Gibbs approached Jack for the umpteenth time in the last hour, his rough and yet kindly voice breathy with the sprint up towards the higher quarterdeck. His dark, greying hair was whipped about from the late storm that had crept by and he frowned despite his heavy breathing at Jack, concernedly. "Jack. Bes' be givin' it up, lad. That devil ship is sailin' with full sails and a bone in 'er teeth jus' as much as we be. She ain' no different. We'll ne'er catch 'er."
"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Gibbs," Jack responded coolly as he turned eyes upward to peer at something aloft among the sails. "You never know whether somethin' works till you try it, do ye? Run out the sweeps an' we'll catch 'er in no time."
But Gibbs would have none of it. His eyes narrowed slightly as he shook his head in stubborn defiance and brought his stocky self as near to the captain as was necessary to speak in some form of solace. "I'll not be whistlin' psalms to the taffrail, Jack Sparrow. You listenin' to what I been tellin' ya? That ship's as alike to this one as my two hands are to each other. We run out the sweeps an' she'll do so too. We can't gain on 'er."
"An' how d'ye know tha'?" Jack returned with a lazy note. "Been aboard their ship, lately? 'ow d'ye know tha' we won' catch 'er?"
"She's just as same as us!"
"So?"
"Wha's the point!"
Jack frowned in a disappointed manner. "The point is, Joshamee, tha' despite our lack of knowledge, we hafta at least try to catch the bloody demon. An' if tha' ain' possible, then I'll at least keep 'er in me sight till we've come up with a more reasonable plan to get a holda her!"
Joshamee shook his head, unsatisfied and grim, "I don't understand ye, Jack Sparrow. 'Tis a bloody fool's errand."
"Well, 'tis a very good thing tha' I'm not a fool then, ay?" Jack quipped with a smirk. Ah, he had heard this conversation many times afore.…
"Prove me wrong!" Joshamee barked. "What makes you think we'll be able to catch the bloody twin of the fastest ship in the Caribbean?"
He had darn well asked for it. The foreboding twinkle in tooth and eye, the wily grin. He had it coming and he realized it with a big, fat mental slap to the forehead before quickly jumping in to chop it off, "– wait, don't answer that. I know: you're Jack Sparrow."
Jack's grin widened before he turned and pointed towards The Abyss with a grimy, ringed finger. "Aye," he acceded, "Captain Jack Sparrow."
Gibbs brow frowned along with his mouth, ignoring the hand gesture. "Jack?"
"Hm?"
"Yeh use that way to much."
Jack's expression seemed unchanged. "So I've been told, but tha's not boun' to change it. An' you can forget 'bout those oars, mate."
Gibbs deepened his frown before he cast his eyes in the direction that Jack indicated. His frown quickly evolved as his eyebrows shot up, his eyeballs grew wide and his jaw tightened in surprise.
Amidst the greys and light pinks and oranges of the storm-kissed evening, The Abyss stood as black and regal as her counterpart against the sea and sky. Sails full, lovely and defiant against a retreating horizon, it seemed that they were to chase her round about the globe till one surrendered or time came to a close. That is what it seemed…then, in a fluster of waves and sea spray, she clubhauled.
The Black Pearl shuddered, her wood groaning lowly as she took a forcible blow from her sisterly opposition. Jack scowled inwardly and Gibbs growled in his throat, ever competitive.
"We ain't gonna take that sorta bilge from the likes o' them!" the older man thundered, rousing the anger and indignation of the men darting about the decks around him and his captain in organized madness. The ship may have been Jack's lass, but– like unto Will's amour of Elizabeth as a lover and others being permitted to adore her as a friend at the same time– that didn't mean the crew loved her just as well. Though she was always and forever Jack's foremost, to an extent, she was all of theirs and they all would defend her from distress. Joshamee proceeded to lean over the ship's rail swiftly and cupped a hand about his mouth to help direct his upcoming willful command: "Give 'em hell, Ana! Fire all!"
The specter of a powerful female cry lost in the babel soon rose in reply– the only sign she had heard at all– followed by an angry, flashing eruption of the ship's guns, booming in spits of surprise and shivering an afterthought through the vessel's sturdy skeleton.
The men aboard The Abyss coursed madly like hornets springing from their broken nest to find the one who knocked it down, and Jack set his jaw grimly as another set of shots popped from the rail guns fixed to his opponent's darkened deck, followed by a short, swift chain of cannon fire. He was loathe to admit it, but the Pearl couldn't take this much longer– she wasn't invincible, after all, just much harder to break than most other ships. He would have to think of something fast.
He jumped internally, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling sharply, as a loud boom sliced through the air on the starboard side… opposite the side The Abyss was already devilishly harassing.
Jutting his jaw to the side in an act of utter irritation, Jack took out his spyglass and, snapping it open, then bringing it swiftly to his eye– he zipped over and around the horizon until he located what he sought: another ship. And she was close. Ha! Where was his lookout? She was so close that Jack could make out the figures of her crew busying about their frantic work on the ship's deck. And she was traveling fast.
"Ana!"
A boom ensued followed by her fair voice responding. "Aye?"
"Inform the crew to make way– we've got company to be comin' aboard… an' not a moment too soon!"
Jack soon found himself to be proven right as a cry of dismay rose from one of his men and he spun about to see the pirates of El Abismo swiftly making their ways over the rails of his ship like the rapid contaminated water of a Caribbean island stream.
Jack cursed under his breath as he exchanged his spyglass for his cutlass. This was not to be tolerated. They would not take his ship from him. He'd fought too long and too hard for such a thing to happen. Ten years! Ten bloody endless years of sticking to the shadows, chewing his fist to remember that he couldn't just jump in and take – learning the true means of the phrases 'patience' and 'the opportune moment.' He'd gone near starving at some times. And the heat on his bloody island wasn't the only heat to taunt him– sun and fire were every inclined to follow him. Thirst had reached the point of pain many times. He'd been caught and imprisoned for occasions without count. And oh! if he could list the chases made for him! He could write a book on that alone! He'd been beaten. He'd been branded. He'd been the laughing stock of pirates the globe over. And he'd been lonely. To the point that rum and occasional retreats to Tortuga were the only things keeping him sane…enough. And now that had changed. For the first time in years he had his ship to sail. For the first time in years he'd gone on an adventure with someone at his side. For the first time in years he had food and drink to spare. For the first time in years he had the chance to challenge the horizon without worry. And for the first time he had friends. He'd get these braggarts to turn heel and run or die trying. No one would take that away again. Not his Pearl, not his freedom, not his friends. Not after so much.
Taking a firm grip on a bit of rigging, Jack hauled himself up onto the far rail and raised his cutlass high above his head, a distinct air of determination and direction about him. Behind him the west painted the greyish pink hues of the evening kissed with gold as a majestic backdrop, slightly silhouetting the outline of his form. A soft breeze rose from its course along the sea's surface and blew against his back, flutter his coat and dancing in his lavishly bedecked hair. His face was set hard and ready, and the sword in his hand gleamed like a silent beacon on a hill for those to whom he spoke to listen and heed.
"Alrigh' mates! These limey fools have dared to intrude on Pearl's territory!" he bellowed, catching their attention firmly. One last echo of thunder from miles away whispered beneath his lingering words. "Now I say we show 'em how a man pays for such pernicious folly!"
"Aye!" came the hearty reply of an intermingled host of various voices, followed by cries of hope for triumph in the faces of their foes.
"Then le's give 'em what they should know wha's comin' to 'em, eh! Take what you can–"
"–An' give nothin' back !"
All persons left their guns and pressingly went to their own collections of arms; drawing pistols, cutlasses, hatchets and bearing them at the ready. Within seconds, the two sides had begun to clash and the cries of battle were lost in the new cacophony of noise growing about them.
That had been a good while ago.
Now, the smell of sulphur stood prominently amongst the smoke, stinging the eyes to watery ruddiness and devilishly snaking down the throats and into the lungs of men– eating and burning acidly as it went. Sweat, tears and blood mingled and entwined before dropping to hit the dark decks of the interlocked vessels in tiny streams, rivers and pools of shimmering ruby, crimson and pink. Meshed with the booms of cannon fire were the cracks of breaking wood; the creaks of the shuddering ship beneath the feet of the sailors; the clangs of metal upon metal and the cries of roaring men rose in a cloud of din, dark and hovering like the smoke of the guns that contributed to the noise.
But Jack Sparrow's baritone voice rang over it all, "Hold fast, ye scurvy dogs! Hold fast!" urging his crew forward with courage and gusto. His usual drunken swagger was removed as a guise and supplanted with the true face of dark-eyed intelligence that dwelt beneath in undiscovered lingering until bidden to come forth. And when it came forth, Jack's besotted mask having been so real and his part so well-played, it came without warning or expectation, waylaying those fool enough to fall prey to the safety of believing him to be witless.
For he was far from witless.
He gritted his teeth and grunted as he set his foot upon the chest of the man he had just dispatchedfor a base of leverage, removing the firmly implanted blade of his sword. Thecorpse fell to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut by its puppeteer, forever to be inanimate. Sparrow rolled his right shoulder to loosen the stubborn rigidness that was beginning to wreathe his upper arm and lowerneck as he cast a frustrated gaze over The Abyss into the horizon beyond and he frowned as he realized that the second ship he had been seeing wasn't an illusion and it had taken an interest in their little confrontation, heading in their direction. Curses! For how much longer could his luck hold!
"Ahoy! Black Pearl!"
Perhaps much longer than he had previously suspected. Jack turned his back on his enemy vesseland the distant shadower, and he brought to his face a sight that permitted him to give an overly-flourished salute with a simper as jaunty as his walk.
"Captain Jack Sparrow, as yeh might well already know, sir!" he introduced grandly to themerchant's ship."But now I am inclined as to know who might you be!" He was forced to turn away for a moment and give a mad attacker a good plonk on the head with the pommel of his sword, dropping the rabidly-stupid man on the spot.
The brown-haired, ramrod-backed sailor curled his lips in a smirk so subtleit was nigh impossible to catch. There and gone in a flash, the bend in the lips disappeared,and the man cocked a lazy eyebrow. Hereturned the call in a voice cool as cucumber…with a hint of lemon for amusement.
"I, sir? Why, Captain Sparrow! I would assume you to know the infamous Captain Green of the Tradesmen's Trove!"
"If you meant to say 'un-famous' rather than 'infamous,' then I'd have to agree with yeh there!" Jack bellowed in return, grinning to himself. "Never heard of yeh! What be your business snoopin' 'round my ship, Captain Green!"
'Green' gave a subtle shrug before extending his hands in a gesture that suggested Jack look his ship over once more. "You seem to be in need of some assistance!"
Jack narrowed his right eye, pressing his lips into a thin, subtle grin so as not to lose his comic air. "May-be," he half sing-songed.
The opposing captain's smirk returned in a more evident stroke as he rocked once on the balls of his feet, straightened his shoulders and locked his hands firmly-official behind his back. "Permission to come aboard?"
Jack gave a flowery bow, dipping low and flutteringthewrist of his raised hand.A roar and rushed footsteps sounded behind him, and he frowned with distaste towards the selfish interruption.However, any displeasure he held within was soon released by spinning about and smacking an approaching offender in the face with the flat of his fist, buying some more time.Thecaptainreturned his attentionto his 'new' associate, puffing out his chest, placing his right hand on his hip in a fist and gesticulating to his ship sweepingly with the other.
"Gladly!"
Unfortunately, any conversation that could have followed was cut short as the man knocked down with a bloody nose came to his senses;peeking through the tear-blurred vision of his ugly eyes, he gave Jack's unheeded ankles a weighing stare.
All 'Green' sawin the moments priorhis attempting torespond was Sparrow's grinning face and grand motion.Then his smile was abruptly wiped off; his arms went flying wild and grandas his feet suddenly flew out from under him and he landed on his back, behind the rail and out of sight.
The uppermost part of his back hit the deck with a painful thump, and, without thought, Jack'sfingers releasedthe hilt of his swordand let it scitter somewhere across the deck. He mouthed a large "Ouch!" and sent his hand flying to base of his neck to rub it vigorously as he cast darkly-lined eyes about for head or tail of his sword. He saw feet, booted, bare and in between. He spied wood, black and endless. And he saw swords but none were his. His eyes roving to and fro with no fortune in their search, hesoon found himself looking into the angry brown eyes of the pirate beside him, whose discolored teeth were grit with fury as his dirty, blood-trickled hand pinched the bridge of his besmudged nose.
Jack lifted and cocked his head to the side questioningly as his rubbing hand slowed its motion and his other hand came up, index and little fingerupto accent his point, asking, "Uh, haven't I met you before?"
The question, really, wasn't all the peculiar, for the face of thedirty scallywag did tickle the senses of an area at the very back of Jack's mind. Somewhere,some time, hisgoings-on had crossed with this man, he was sure.But he received no hint whatsoever. The man only growled deeply in his throat as a response, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
Jack furrowed his brow in perplexity. "No?"
The man growled louder–like a wild dingo over its territory.
Captain Sparrowresponded by dropping his hand and frowning with some measure of discouragement. "No." He had been almost certain that this face wasn't new, but buried in some passed memory. He didn't argue with the old tar, though. He simply shrugged and made to get up. "Well–guess I ought ta get goin' then–"
He oomphed as suddenly his attacker was upon him. The pirate captain was pinned down by wide-eyed surprise for only a fraction of an instant before he clasped the man's biceps in his own, and, after a good wiggle here and there, managed to roll the two of them over as a whole.He wanted tobe on top.
"As I was sayin'–"
What he hadn't seen coming was that his opponent wasn't ignorant to this move, as it was really quite simple. Grabbing Jack's biceps in a crab-like grip as well,he repeated Jack's move, tumbling them head-over-heels so that he might have the advantage. But Jack Sparrow would not stand for that, and before long the two were rolling, rolling, rolling across the deck like an elongated human tumbleweed.
Hollow, wooden thunks along the ship's starboard rail announced the arrival of the Black Pearl's fresh and unprecedented allies.A mass of British sailors crossed wooden planks and swiftly boarded the Black Pearl in a very efficient, swift and even orderly fashion. Soon their faded blues and browns were bleeding into the messy melee-ing mass of mariners, and the battle was brought to a new height with the fresh energy.
Mister Gibbs had been caught in a fix, locked in combat with a man who simply refused to go down– defiant against everything he threw at him. He was growing horrendously fatigued, his lungs burning with exertion, the sweat beginning the trickle into his eyes, when his opponent gasped suddenly and their fighting came to a pause. Gibbs looked at the man in confusion before noticing with high brows the ruddied silver tip of a blade protruding fromthe stranger'schest. He couldn't help but make a face. The blade withdrew with a disconcerting schwelp accompanied by its victim's weak last breath as he fell to the floor, revealing a rather tall brown-eyed man.
Laughter danced merrily in the man's eyes, though his face remained still with stern control, "Why, Master Joshamee, you've grown sloppy! I must say, such form would not be tolerated had you remained in the service."
He smirked briefly before withdrawing into the mass of chaos without giving the greyer man time to respond, save it be a very stuttered, "C-c-c-commodore?" as he stared after the bizarre surprise.
His fingers unconsciously went to the inside of his vest, fumbling for his flask, when his gaze was torn away by some dead weight ramming into his legs and causing him to shoot heels-over-head into the air. He smartingly kissed the deck with the base of his neck in a wild collision and sharp thump, his head banging thewood fiercely directly afterward in a macabre game of follow-the-leader.
He cursed loudly and profanely before swiftly scampering onto his belly to find the muttonhead responsible. He grit his teeth as he found it to be a pair of muttonheads, rolling about like boys in a school yard fight, that were answerable to his pain.
"Damn it, Jack– ye swab! Quit foolin' around!" he roared as loud as his lungs and stomach would permit him,whilst he propped himself up on his forearm and shook his fist in the air.
His cry was belched in vain, however, as Jack's ears were ringing profusely from the strange form of combat that he had inadvertently locked himself in. The rolling had sent his head spinning for a few confusing minutes before he managed to push the dizziness aside and get a grip on the things about him. Before he knew it, the rolling had become the manner in which the two opponents were attacking each other; throwing all their momentum into the power of the roll so as to ram their adversary as hard as they could into the next solid obstacle they hit. It proved effective, save a few faults that Jack was beginning to detest.
The slightly dizzy captain threw all his weight into the pitch and yaw of their tumbling, and they soon were rolling without vision of the world about them in the slightest. That is, until–
"Oof!" his opponent grunted as he managed to slam him good and hard into the ship's well-crafted bulkhead.
Jack grinned triumphantly, his teeth gleaming as they always did when he let a victorious, "Ha!" bark from his mouth.
The dog-like man gave another muttish snarl before turning things around– literally. Again they were rampaging across the ship's deck, toppling faster and faster and faster as they went. It was beginning to become very antagonizing for Jack. The bit of spine at the base of his neck and the shoulder that left the ground last were beginning to become very sore where the bone met the wood in nipping-quick rubbing motions. Gah, he was going to have some strange sores in those places! Faster and faster and faster they went and the world spun about more rapidly with each turn in a shapeless blur of dark colors. For the first time in many years of experience, Jack felt he just might let his stomach go as the distinct sensation of nausea settled within him.
Fortunately, he was saved from that fate;they were brought to an abrupt stop.
Unfortunately, he had to be faced with the sudden impression that he knew exactly what one of Will's swords felt like when it was caught between the anvil and a blow from one of the blacksmith's hammers.He was suddenly cracked against an uneven piece of vertical something, and his rib cage seemed to implode when the wind rushed out of him violently. His eyebrows shot sky high,he scrunched up his nose and opened his mouth wide in a silent scream of pain as he turned his saucer-sized eyeballs to the man whose arms he firmly clasped.
The man's grin of wicked relish seemed more of a sneer than anything else,exposing his teeth like some kind of animal and seeming to take great pleasure in Jack's abrupt and well-presented throe. He had a chuckle on the verge of emerging from its boiling pot in the back of his throat and his eyes were also wide–though with a mad delight–and he met Jack's bug-eyed gaze with his unique own.
They held that pose forsome seconds: the grimy man with greasy, yellow dreadlocks grinning with bared brown chompers andmadness gleaming in his eyes, and The Captain Jack Sparrowspeechless and frozen with pure pain writ in his face;his mouthas ajar as humanly possible without looking like a snake with its jaw unhooked. Thegrimyjack tarbreathed swiftly and unevenly as a demented chuckle began to slither out of his tightly-clamped mouth. Jack didn't breath at all.
Then things began to change.
"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuh,"Sparrow wheezed, every muscle in his face remaining frozen–except his eyebrows. His brows crept from sky-high to below-sea-level as theexpression in his eyes melted from ice cubes of cold pain to a scalding pot of anger. The man continued to chuckle, unchanging regardless of Jack's glare, and his gaze never flinched from the captains. His breath stank–even to Jack.
When air finally made the decision to return to Jack's forcefully deprived lungs, thecaptain slowly released his eyes from their large bearing, closed his mouth and bared his own teethto mirrorthe manwho hurthim.He himself growled like a mad dog of his own breed. Mad with actual insanity and genuineanger.
Then the rolling started again, with more madness and ferocity than every before.
The other men onboard the combat-locked ship didn't stand a chance when the mass ofmutt came plunging in their direction. They were mulled over like mud under carriage wheels as the two sea dogs rolled with all their might in order to smash their foe the hardest, each one wanting the last laugh as much as his opponent.
Crack! The Abyss pirate was pinned to the bulkhead.
Smash! Sparrow was thrust upon a rather weak crate and demolished it with his back.
Ba-da-dum. Three men were heaved down on the deck, ran over as if they had been hit by a rampaging horse.
Boom! Sparrow managed to get himself rammed into the mainmast.
Thud! The opposing pirate rammed into the quarterdeck stairway.
The larger surroundingengagement was beginning to lose its momentum as the men involved began to become more wary of the rolling demons than they were of each other. The parting of the sea of people that the two managed could have made Moses proud, so swift and hearty was their work.
However, to Jack it was far from amusing. He was aching in a manner that suggested he was going to regret the whole thing ever the worse on the morrow. His rage was all but gone now and the nausea was making a determined attempt at coming back to supplant it. Someone's booted foot met his ribs as powerfully as it would havehad he been kicked. Yes, he had come to thoroughly detest the idea of using his own body as a weapon.It was enough.
They met the bulkhead in timing such that neither of them were pinned to it in a blow. Rather, Jack found himself in a position much the same to that of the one they started in– the grimy man pinning Jack to the ground with a snarl on his face like a foaming-mouthed canine.
Jack waggled about for a moment in an attempt the squirm free of the strange man's grasp (the sea rat hardly seemed affected by the spinning at all!);nevertheless,after his attempts were met with nothing but failure, Jack dropped his act andrelaxed for a moment before doing the first thing he could thing of: he released the mans biceps, took his face in both his hands and slammed his forehead as hard as he could against the other's.
The Sparrowsaw nothing but stars for what seemed like several minuteswhile an excruciating pain sliced through his head that no hangover could begin to compete with. A high-toned ringing pung in his ears as he shook his head and began to try to blink the stars and pretty colors away. Regardless of his current state of relative blindness, somehow Jack knew that the man only flinched upon impact and his effort had been useless. Davy Jones, but that man had to have a skull as thick as a pistol butt!
When he finally did regain his full perception, Jack mouthed a round "Ow!" Although his brains were quite rattled, he did his best to make a mental note: 'Never do that again.'
The man began to laugh, and Jack sneered in return. Obviously, the fool had become used to theentertainingly idiotic and luck-borne image of Jack Sparrow. In some cases, the acceptance of this façade was fun and a kick in the pants for Jack. But there were some times and places where he needed it as a tool more than just a form of fun. He didn't always have the time to appreciate or tolerate such misguided rejoinders. Now was a good example of these cases; his patience was wearing thin.Seconds were too valuable to spend lightly in the midsts ofmelees like these. So Jack curled his legs up, bringing his knees to his chest…
'Laugh all yeh want, mate…'
…He placed the flat of his toes against the man's belly…
'…but it ain' gonna do yeh any good.'
…And he kicked his legs out with all the strength he had in him.
To his great satisfaction the man's eyes went wide with surprise before he released Jack's arms and was thrown off of the captain with a considerable amount of force Jack found to be gratifying. He landed on the deck beside Jack with a thud, his mouth agape as the wind speeding out of his widelyopen mouth refused to return.Sparrow smirked as he sat himself up,looking the man over with a satisfied air. He shook his head slowly, placing a mask of mock-sorrow onto his visage as he clucked his tongue slowly.
"Yeh know wha' mate? I feel yer pain." He smiled brightly before reaching over and patting the man on the head reassuringly, like a master to his cocker spaniel. "Easy, boy."
Reaching for the sky with two hands of splayed fingers, Jack rocked his way to sitting, scrambling to two booted feet and looking across the deck with an analytical eye. The battle was a bitter one. Amongst the variants of blacks, browns and whites, flashes of cold, calculating steel and scintillations of crimson blood caught his sight. The sun was beginning to dip lower behind the horizon's impenetrably opaque veil, and the sky to blanket over in consuming violets and royal blues. They wouldn't be able to keep fighting into the night. Not without a moon.
"Sparrow!"
Jack's attention was drawn swiftly to his right, where the commodore was locked in an engagement with two men at once, strugglingto keep his own. The pirate brigands took on a boorish, crude manner of fighting, swinging and slashing with only the objectives to maim andkill as quickly as possible. James shot Jackwith a rigid mienbeforecompletinga textbookparry and riposte. "Don't just stand there, you fool!" he barked with an added edge, "Make yourself useful!" In a rapid fluid motion, Norrington struck a sure cross-punch to one man, snapping his head up in a manner thatbought enough time to hastily slip the sword from his loosed, unguarded fingers and toss it to Jack. "Now!"
Captain Sparrow caught the sword and weighed it appraisingly in his right hand. He frowned with dissatisfaction and wrinkled his nose with a furrowed brow, "But this ain' my–"
Norrington ran the man he was fighting through at the waist, withdrawing his sword's bladeina new crimson light as two more men came to replace their fallen comrade. "Sparrow!"
The pirate sighed, dropping his hand to his waist and looking nonchalantly towards the heat of the battle. He opened his mouth to speak when he paused and began to squint at something off somewhere.…
A third man came to join in thesuddenly determined fracas against James. His patience had long been worn thin, and his anger threatened tobreak from his control. He couldn't hold it all together for much longer. "Blast it, Sparrow! What are you doing!"
Jack cast a blank eye on the distressed commodore for a moment, pausing with thoughtfully puckered lips. Then he began walking with a slink like a catstraight up to Norrington and his opponents, and tapped one pirate on the shoulder. "'scuse me?"
The man spun around and glaredwith eyes wild like a rabid dog and very, very familiar. Jack's eyebrows shot high and his mouth made a little 'o.' "Ah. So s'you, I see. This time I can say I've seen you before. We meet again."
It was very clear that the doggish manheldmuchmore interest in Jack than James, his eyes going savage and his face perking into a snarl as he growled lowly in his throat with denuded dentures. Clearly writ in his countenance, Jack was able to identify the want for retaliation to their previous venture; a personal grudge already firmly set in its place within the man's mind. Jack continued to speak as if this did not seem at all threatening or unusual.
"But," his voice was nonchalant and even cheerful, "I see there seems to be a bit of a misunderstandin' amongsts all this disorganization. Y'see," he grabbed the man by the shoulder and gestured at the commodore with his sword, "tha'smy frien'." The man growled more fiercely, as Jack walked pirate towards the rail with theambiance of a man strolling through the park with a good chum. "An', yeh see,I can' tolerate people pickin' on me mates, regardless o' the pain in the arse they can be. So m'gonna haftanecessitate you an' yer brethren 'ere to stop it.… Yeh really need to develop a better vocabulary, by the way, mate."
The man's grumble was cut off and the blow intended to come from his raised sword interrupted as the dirtied hand upon his shoulder jerked him back and he tumbled over the rail with a splash.
"'ope you can dog-paddle!" Jack bellowed after him.He was next spinning around and stepping into the fight the commodore was left with, striking at a man that had just managed to be thwarted from his attack. "May I cut in?"
"About bloody time," the commodore grunted as the tables were turned and thestrange newduo was placed on the offensive. "What in heaven's name were you doing? Watching the sunset?"
"No." Jack blocked in an attack and became locked in a sword-crossed battle of strength whenhis blade became pressed against and hisgaze locked upon his enemy's; though he still spoke efficiently with the high-ranking naval captain as he shuffled his feet and brought hiscompetitor in a rotation.
"What then?"Norrington spun in a fleet circle and thrusting all his momentum into the swing of his blade. It met his adversary's with a fierce bite and the pirate's crude blade shattered dangerously. The defeated man stared at the remaining stub of a blade and hilt left in his hand with dismayed eyes and a slack jaw. James wasted no time to revel in satisfaction. The man was felled with cold steel through his gut before he could begin to recover.
Suddenly, Jack's mouth dropped in repulsion and offense, and he gave a shove to his opponent that wasempowered enough byangerto cause the wretch to stumble backward over the rail, regardless of its distance.Then Sparrowmarched up to the commodore, his expression unchanging regardless of the fact that he had to look up or stand on his toes to meet the man's eyes, Norringtonbeing even taller than the whelp. And he poked an accusatory finger at the commodore's sternum. "You ruined my battle plan!" he hissed, "I was goin' t'do somethin' really genius!"
Norrington rolled his eyes upward with what Jack assumed to be a sigh, closed his eyes for a moment of vexation and then opened them again. "Please, Sparrow, don't make yourself more of an idiot than you already are," he replied with a lazy tone.A cool gaze wandered its way over Jack's lower crown and rested upon the battle, a rancorous reminder of where he was and his duty to the time.He tensedand rotated the bloodied sword in his sweaty hand. With a sharp and bitter tone he spoke through pursed lips, "The battle is not yet won. We must press on."
"Aye, but I fear there may be a probability that it jus' became more complicated and further from the poin' o' finishin'," replied with a serious gleam sparking from his eye.
Commodore Norrington narrowed suspicious eyes on the pirate captain. "Why?"
"Believe it or not, my dear sir,there is yet another ship headed in our not-so-general direction."
"What?" came the bark.
Jack nodded grimly in return. "Aye, out yonder." And he pointed a ringed, grimy finger into therecedingdaylight out west, where a ship of no great size or build was making its way without a doubt to the fray.
James pursed his lips bleakly. "How do we know they're in it for the enemy? They look like any other group of petty pirates I've met before."
Jack pursed his lips bleaky, the humor in his gait draining swiftly away from his beatle-black eyes. "I've certain passed experiencescurios enough to rectify my insinuated conjecture, Commodore. An' even if I didn', I would recall tha'this 'ere Abyss 'as been causin' some serious trouble an' givin' the Black Pearl an even sourer name than that of Barbossa's reign. I wouldn' be surprised if tha' li'l ship o' petty pirates 'as a score to settle with 'er from afore– perhaps, even, once an' for all."
James' quirked in a slight furrow of thought.He would much rathertrust his own instincts and knowledge above Jack Sparrow's.Regardless ofhishidden amiable and rather intelligentnature, the man was still a pirate and dishonesty in any situation would be the least of his worries. Butlittlereflectionwas needed to bite the commodoreat his heels in a sharp reminder:he held very little useful information this time through.Assuch, he couldn't think through these tightpositions properly– successfully, even. But Jack Sparrow could. And if they wanted to make it out of this entire mess successfully, he would have to pass the mantle to him, forgetful to all of his previous biases. Realizing such, Jamesswallowed his pride with some measure of meekness and bowed his head once in quiet understanding. "So we best prepare for the worst."
"Precisely what I intended for yeh to pick up, Commodore. Now, in case you 'ave forgotten, there is a young lass waitin' for 'er young lad, an' we are the ones 'o volunteered to go get 'im for 'er. I don' know 'bout you, bu' I'm not up to th'idea of lettin' 'er down."
Norrington looked over towards approaching threat out to sea and narrowed his eyes in thought. "What do you suppose we should do, then?"
Jack turned his own sight toward the ship no longer distant in the sunset, serious once more and speculative. "'ow would you feel 'bout splittin' up an' meetin' with some o' our boys on the other side?"
"Our motives are less obvious that way," James thought aloud in an agreeingmurmur. Hiscoffee eyes were already darting about the decks, searching for a swift path by which to go, clockwork evidently turning in his mind. They traced the same journey two times more before he once more looked upon the on-coming vessel that threatened to bring an advantage to theirviolent rivals. Dwelling there for a moment, he nodded as if to confirm something to himself and then returned his attention to Jack."Very well. If we work swiftly, we may be able to make a run for it before our mystery ship comes upon us. I shall see you on the other side. Till we meet again, then, Sparrow?"
Jack grinned, and even in the growing dark the silver and gold in his mouth glinted amongst their normal porcelain-like peers. "Aye. Till we meet again."
The commodore was off in a second's breath, his unusual costume of brown swiftly disappearing amongst the colors of a similarity. The brunt of the battle was taking place at the meeting of The Abyss and the Black Pearl, where ships were boundby ropes, planks and grappling hooks and men were bound by the red in their eyes. There wasnearly no sun's lightleft for illuminationwhatsoever, and a few of the lanterns on the ships were beginning to pop to life, bathing the ship in a cavorting orange radiancemingled thewith enlarged black shadow-puppetsprancing the dance of death on the screens of grey sails above. Walking into the heat of the battle as he twirled the sword in his hand, wishing for his own, Jack soon vanished into the thick of the grotesque play,his form leavingits ownlong dark shadow behind him.
Once his footsteps had faded and melted into the cacophony of sound that bespoke of the battle, a subtle stirring took place beneath the stairs to the ship's quarterdeck. Amongst yellow-orange hued canvas covered boxes and barrels of wood, the firelight reflected like light off a polished golden sculpture as a head with hair the hue of polishedstraw rose from its hiding spot amongst the ship provisions.
Elizabeth set observant eyes on the lantern-lit melee with a firm jaw and stubborn expression, the scene's light and shadows reflecting in her amber eyes. She hadn't known whether or not Jack had heard her curse when she bumped her knee against something hard and angular she couldn't see, and she had been frightened for a moment that he and the commodore would discover her,locking away again without phantoms of thoughtsfor her protests. But she held her breath and, before long, the men departed to join in the action taking place.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of Jack's cutlass as she chewed thoughtfully on her plump lower lip. She knew that taking Jack's sword could have gotten him into trouble and she felt guilty for swiping it away while he was too distracted with his tumbling contest. She had even been fearful that he would die because of his lack of a weapon, and that his blood would be on her head for the rest of her life. But she also knew that Jack Sparrow could find a way out of any tight situation: sword or no sword. So faith in his luck and daft way of living made her decide to take and wait for the opportune moment.
The young woman believed that that moment had finally come, with a bright and intelligent gleam coming to her eye. She could creep amongst the shadows, keeping to the edges of the fight, away from wayward eyes, and make her way onto The Abyss without too much trouble. The mimic-ship must have been cursed in some way, for the light bleeding from the lanterns did not touch her blackened mass. She was enveloped in some impenetrable shadow, immune to the glows of fire and perhaps starlight. Though the thought was slightly disquieting, Elizabeth took praise in it. After she made it to The Abyss no one would see her slink below the decks and save Will. She could free him and be back on the Black Pearl before anyone had noticed her missing. She could do it.
She stood on shaky legs that felt loose and weak from their long period of crouching low to keep her hidden, one hand laid supportingly on a barrel, the other wiggling nervous digits in their hold of Jack's stolen sword. She could see the grey of a smaller ship's white sail, coming to stand alongside The Abyss in the distance. What if they saw her? If she didn't act soon, then she would get caught by the men boardingthat side of the ship. She needed to act swiftly, to will herself to go despite the fear that was beginning to thunder in her breast. Had Will taught her enough to hold her own against these creatures? Would she freeze in a moment of panic and terror? Would they kill her?
No. She wouldn't allow it. Because when Jack needed his help, Will was there. And he had been there for her when she thought no one would.
'On our return to Port Royal, I granted you clemency and this is how you thank me? By throwing in your lot with him? He's a pirate!'
'And a good man. If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it. At least my conscience will be clear.'
'You forget your place, Turner.'
'It's right here, between you and Jack.'
So she would be there for him.
'As is mine.'
No pirates would stop her from that. She refused to be afraid of them. They weren't demons that lost all signs of humanity when placed under a frigid moon anymore. That nightmare had passed. They were men, and she would dispatch of them as best as she could– giving her all, giving her best. It was all she could do and it was what was most important.
She closed her eyes and willed her heart to stop beating so fiercely, for her breath to steady, her to be prepared, her body to be strong. She could not afford to have her courage fail her. Too much was at stake to be lost.
She was taking her first careful steps towards the battle, and though the bloodshed rose loud and wild, every step she took thundered prominently through her bosom and without her head. Nervous glances were flashed to the chaos repeatedly in worry that, this time, someone had her movements, and she had to continually chide herself for doing so. Time was being waste, and the sounds weren't as loud as they seemed. Regardless, she was growing heightenedly tense with anxiety.
Elizabeth kept to the outer bulkhead of Jack's cabin, pressing herself as best as she could to its protecting shade. Roars of rage and cries of pain yipped amongst the pops and clangs of thepandemonium she approached. Her pulse began to throb fiercely again at her temples and her heart pounded against her ribcage till it ached dully. She realized she was shaking ferociously, her knees weak and her feet like ice in their slightly over-sized footwear; and she cursed herself for her cowardice as she walked. Clenching the sword in her hand so strongly causedher fingersto beginto ache sorely at their primary joints, but her sweaty palm refused to let itself relax. The deck seemed unending and foreboding. Her eyes were glued, wide and apprehensive, on the battle that she was now adjacent to whilst her mind gave heed to the feel oftheship about her feet. She wondered whether it would be wiser togo to herknees and crawl, forthe lanterns threatened to bring her presence to the attention of those slashing and tearing at the borders of the fight's heat.
Her hip bumped the ship's rail and she paused.Elizabeth glanced all about her in swift caution, to assure herself no eyes would catch her upcoming movement. To draw attention could prove to be disastrous, and the possible outcomes were many and grim. Faces were focused on faces, dark, snarling, some even fearful. But none seemed to wander beyond the boundaries of light and shadow. Shakily, she tucked the snatched cutlass into her belt, and placed two cold hands onto the smoothly painted rail. Glancing back again nervously at the mass of men, she placed one foot on the rail and followed it with the other, standing slowly and with trembling limbs. Her weight rocked from her unsettled legs, balance taking its time in coming to her assistance, flirting with her fate in its absence. Placing a placating hand on the cabin's bulkhead, she tore her gaze away from her feet and set it upon the rail across from her. Her legs steadied somewhat, courage beginning to build within her.
She heard a splash and looked down to see some men wrestling in the water. They struggled with each other, hands searching for hurt in their enemy and feet kick at each other as fiercely as possible. Suddenly, one managed to, pull his hand from the grip of the other's and his fingers were soon at the surprised foe's throat. There was a horrendous strained gagging as the choking man clutched at the other's arms, with one hand,theother hand disappearing beneath the water.Suddenly he lifted his plunged arm with a cold knife glinting in the lantern-lightflashing aspeedy movement.And then it was over. The choker's gripreleased his captive as his body moved to become nothing more than a floating corpse face-down and possibly forever lostin the midst ofthe black sea.
Returning her gaze to the rail, suddenly six feet seemed no more different that a fathom. It was greater than her own height, and she did not know if she could make such a jump. Always standing at ceremonies, dancing at balls, and crossing her ankles delicately whilst sitting at any place whatsoever,Elizabeth Swann'slegshad grownunused to activities that would now benefit her. After her childhood had been declared passed and gone, she was no longer permitted to climb trees or swim in the sea freely with friends as she once had. She didn't know how far she could jump any longer. Neither was she on flat ground. Elizabeth was standing on a ship's rail above a pot of angry cut throats– a ship that she was forbidden to be on, nonetheless.
She was very much tempted to step down and go back to her cabin. She was a fool for coming out here! She couldn't do anything– she was a genteel woman amongst seasoned sea dogs! She should go back.
A particularly loud blast rang out from the fray. A bark from Jack cut through the night, though she knew not what he was saying. Her grip tightened on the sword in her hand, her wits calming a bit as she did so. She wouldn't allow herself to steal that blade for no reason at all. She had caused Jack great danger in taking his most valuable weapon for the moment–she would make the most of that action, regardless of her fears. Tensing her legs up and closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and thrust herself forward.
Though she was moving forward, she felt like she was falling in a dream. She wished to see where she was going but found herself unable to pry her eyes open. The noises of the struggle raged on beside her and the splashing of the men below her seemed as ominous as hungry sharks. She didn't think she'd ever reach the other side. Just then, her toes met the slick wood of the opposite side. Her toes…and nothing else. Her feet slipped out from under her, due to her lack of support and she gasped as she began to fall. She thrust her arms out before her instinctively as her mind froze. She did not think or listen, she only saw and heard.
Suddenly her arms met the rail, just above the elbows. An act out of impulse, she snapped her forearms down and clutched the rail with all her might, pressing her breast against the vessel with all she had in her as her legs smashed themselves against the hull with a clump. She shook with trepidation. Every grunt in the battle, every angry splash in water seemed a discoverer of her presence coming to get her rid of. Her mind began to reawaken from its frozen shock and Elizabeth was soon struggling to pull herself up onto the deck, her feet scraping for absent support. She felt the thud of some body ram against the ship and began to panic, scurrying to find her way up. Her frantic strokes managed to edge her upward enough to lay her forearms against the wood and lean her weight against them as she wormed her legs up onto the other side of the ship. She wasted no time for sitting or waiting– she threw herself onto the ship's deck, tremoring with anticipation for the sound of feet hitting the deck to come after her.
No sound came, and terror began to pass. Her heart thundered in her ears as she began to pelt across the deck on her hands and knees towards the ship's companionway, keep low so that no one might look across from the Pearl and spot her white sailor's shirt. She looked up and jumped with surprise. The little ship was seconds away from being ready board. She needed to run. Jumping to her feet she sprinted for the portal through which she might pass below decks to the brig, sword still clutched firmly in her hand.
She thought she heard someone behind her, the sound of boots on the hard deck, and she began to run faster. She had to plunge her hands out to stop her from running head-on into the door. She ran frantic fingers over the rough wood in search for the door's latch. She could clearly hear the footsteps of a booted person coming in her direction, and began to shudder as her fingers felt nothing but the flat planes of wood on the hatch. They were coming closer and Elizabeth thought she could make out a bit of labored breathing. Suddenly her fingers brushed something, and she thrust her hand in that direction. The latch! Dropping her sword she immediately began to fumble with it, getting it set properly in her hand. The whisper of a sword leaving a leather sheath rushed to her ears ominously as the boots came nearer. She pulled on the latch. The door did not move. It was locked!
She looked side to side frantically, finding no where to go on either side. She dropped her gaze to the floor and panicked at the thick obscurity below. Where was Jack's sword! It was too dark to see! She turned back to the door and began toying with it again, twisting it this way and that, hoping that she was just using it wrong.
The door came open of it own accord, and Elizabeth felt the color drain from her face as she was met by one of the last people she cared to see on earth ever again. Ugly yellow teeth gleamed sickly from behind chapped, dirty lips as the short greasy scoundrel smiled repulsively at her presence. And a voice that had often crept into her nightmares in the few weeks after her kidnaping was heard once more, unchanged and still a fright.
"Why, 'ello, Poppet. Fancy meetin' you 'ear!"
She wanted to scream, but she had no voice. She wished to strike, but she had no sword. So she ran. She turned and she ran the direction she came in blind desire to escape from her nightmares coming back to life. But escape was not an option. She ran without thought and soon met the owner of the boots behind her directly. He stank of lack of bathing and stale foods and giggled like a fool at her stumbling halt. Then his laugh stopped with a gasp.
"'ey! I know you!"
She didn't need light to see the wooden eye implanted in his left socket– she could see it clearly through memory of the mind. The images reminded her of the poor man's lack of intelligence, and Elizabeth some measure of courage to face him. She punched him. Curling her hand into a hard fist and thrusting it at his nose with all her might, she punched him and ran as he howled with anger, hiding until she could get back the sword now bathed in the light of the open door.
"Pintel! She 'it me!"
"I know, ya fool! Fin' 'er before she gits away!"
Author's Note: You guys, I'm so sorry this one took so long. I really, really, really hope this one isn't uninteresting or slow or dumb.You have no idea how long it took just get figure out how I wanted to get this started. I had the images in my head, but the words refused to cooperate, so I was continuously typing and deleting, typing and deleting. You have no idea how many abandoned concepts I have, how many were deleted and labeled 'abandoned' but wormed back in anyway and how many things are still to come! Will hasn't made it aboard. Oy... I also apologize for it not being as long as I would have liked to give you guys for your patience. But I looked at my plot outline and if I don't stop here, then the chapter won't get another break for at least twelve more pages and I don't want to make you wait that long. School gets out in two weeks and then I'll be able to, hopefully, post faster and get new ideas.
On a lighter note, who's been followin' the sequel's production! (Snaps uphand.) I'm so crossing my fingers for this one, you guys. Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio have never written a sequel before this, so I've hope that it will be very good. From what I know so far, I am pleased.
Finally, I need your guys' help. I've started this project for Maggie 'M.N.' Theis, in which I send her aThank You/We Miss You thingthat has the names of all the people who read and enjoyed her work. It doesn't matter what it was-- 'The Measure of a Man' 'Perchance to Dream' -- if you read any of her work and liked it, I ask that you just e-mail me at and tell me you would like your name on the card. If you wish, you can also include a word or two of why you liked her work or a word of encouragement of any kind and I will include it, but it's optional. AND if you know of any persons who would like to participate-- spread the word. The lass had hundreds of reviews per fic, I know there are people that would like to let her know that she was appreciated. So... yeah.
P.S. When I am finished with this fic, I will probably go through it and fine-tune/rewrite sections. I won't change, necessarily, as much as I will just make them more lush and polish them up. There are sections I think are stingy and need some fixing. Anyway, on with the thankseses...
Alex-stank: Although you're review was really small, it made me laugh. Thanks for reviewing.
CrAzYpigwidgeon: I'm glad I freaked you out and that you forgot about the line around his waist. I consider that an accomplishment, 'cause I afraid that everyone would be, "Why's he drowning? He's still got that stupid rope tied around his waist." So, thank you for that.
Eledhwen: Let me breathe a bit... That whole section with Will was one I wanted tofeel almost visually striking in areas, and then also physically trying for the character. I'm glad that someone liked it.
JeanieBeanie: Lol! I wouldn't consider myself a "great author," luv. I'm always displeased with my work... which is why I'm going to go back and fix things when this is all done. I pale in comparison to many others, and I'm always keeping my eyes open and learning from the techniques of other truly great authors. The compliment was lovely, though. Made my day. And yes, I do agree that it's nice to have some quality authors about. There are some good ones around here, you just have to find them. (Wink)
Kiss316: Thank you! The prologue, for me, is one of the parts that I'm almost entirely pleased with. That one, thescene with Will in the water, the Murtogg/Mullroy scene (I'm not sure why... I just liked it!), and some moments when I feel a sentence or piece of dialogue comes close to what the character actually are. When I polish up the story, that section will go through very subtle changes.
Nuriel: Darlin', getting an agent and getting started is the hardest part of the business. It is a challenge from then on, yes, but if you study hard and let your passion for the art stay alive, you can be alright. It's a tough competition, and if you let your confidence and passion die, you'll never make it. Anyway, I'm glad you "thoroughly enjoyed" the last chapter and hope that this one didn't stink. I wish had more time to fix it up, but I've made you all wait enough.
Quiet Infinity: Yay! I'm so happy you liked the other chapter! You're review was very encouraging. Whenever I got down and said, "I can't do this," I pulled out my reviews, looked at what you guys had to say, and it was reviews like yours that made me say, "No, I can do this. I've got to." Thanks for your support and delightful reviews.
Rainyaviel: You know what? Fencing and sword fighting is a lot of fun, and when you just goof around with it-- even if you really haven't a clue what you're doin'-- it can be fun. Timing it to music is complicated. I should know. It especially bites when you get it timed right and then the music director says, "Okay, we're gonna play this faster" or "We're cuttin' this bit and adding this instead!" (Sighs and shakes head.) Sword fights in musicals are a nightmare to get right. But I love the final result. Especially when it has something likea guillotine climax. Oh yeah. I hope that you don't hate my guts for taking so long... I really tried hard to update as soon as possible. Life is crazy, you know?
Smithy: I really appreciated the compliments you gave for my approach to Will. I'm always kicking myself to make him BETTER and it's nice to know that some people like what I've done so far, even when I do not entirely. Thank You.
Unplugged32: I was thrilled when I got your review! I 'The Darkest Hour' and am very honored to know that you somewhat enjoy my work as well. Keep writing and I will too, 'kay? Thanks for your review.
Thank you all for your kind words. There've been moments where I've become very discouraged with my work, but your reviews remind me that some people don't think so low of it and I feel like I should keep going. Thanks so much. Next chapter will have more of the fight and then it should lead to a chapter where things calm down a get a bit sorted out. Foulkes' true motivations and thoughts are revealed. Characters cross paths. We'll learn a bit more of Barbossa and stuff like that. Some three or four chapters down the road, there will be a revealing, in which the veil of mystery will begin to lift and make sense of things. The strange darkness that took Port Royal that first night, the behavior of the chest and what happened to Will, and what, exactly, the characters need to do this time around will be made known, though new questions may arise-- you never know.
After looking at the whole plot, I've come to a decision that I may want to change my fic's title. Something that can give a foreshadowing as to what's to come. If anyone opposes, just speak up and I'll note it. Thanks you guys!
Jack E.