Disclaimer: Don't own POTC. Don't even own a jar of dirt.

Again, thanks to everyone still clicking on my story and taking the time to read it – hope it is to your liking! Thanks also for reviews which are always great to receive, as always constructive criticism very welcome and suggestions also. Not much left now, we are approaching the mutiny, poor Jack……

Chapter 6 – Day 3

Jack stretched back in his chair, boots up in their usual place on the table. His hat covered most of his face and blocked out a lot of the light, however he was ready to move it at a moment's notice and leap up should the need arise. Sleep wasn't going to come easy to him, especially not during the day although Barbossa had insisted the captain get some rest ready for the night ahead. After last night's brush with Mother Nature, they had to be ready for anything. Jack couldn't argue with the man's logic and so had agreed to rest a while. But just for a while. He shifted position slightly and then regretted it, as his chair tipped back further than he meant it to and toppled over backwards. Jack laid on his back, still in a sitting position with his legs in the air and stared at the roof of his cabin thoughtfully. He frowned, then shrugged to himself, readjusted his hat over his face and closed his eyes.

Whilst Jack's sleep was disturbed by dreams of ghostly ships, dead pirates and rain, lots of rain, Barbossa paced the deck above. He had gathered most of the men together to discuss the previous night's events. The crew were restless, edgy and tired. Pirates were a superstitious lot at the best of times and half the crew had managed to convince the other half in scared whispers that the ghosts of the dead had cursed the voyage and would appear to them every night until they decided to board the ship, kill the crew and take the Pearl with them to the depths.

William sat among them, listening in to the tales. He had seen that ship as clear as the rest of them had, and whilst he had a little trouble taking on what the gents were saying, for ships to appear and disappear again in the dead of the night, well something was up. The day was clear and warm, not a cloud in the sky. The same as the day before and the day before that. Yet with the darkness came the storms. It would the same tonight, William would bet a tavern's worth of rum on it.

Barbossa stood in the centre of the men. Almost the entire crew had gathered now – save for the few still working and others catching up on some sleep. He looked around at them all – nervous, dirty faces wondering what on earth he was going to say to them. Only Pintel and Ragetti seemed untroubled. Pintel hovered in the background and Ragetti sat leant up against a barrel, twisting his rag around and around in his hands. Last night's storm appeared to have cleaned the cloth a little and he was wringing it out. Unfortunately that left the gaping hole where his eye should have been on full show and as a result of that, most of the crew didn't look directly at him. Ragetti suddenly looked up and caught William watching him – William looked away immediately, he felt very uncomfortable looking at the one eyed lad's unfortunate face.

William jolted back to the matter at hand as he heard Barbossa mention Jack's name. The men stirred and mumbled to each other. Barbossa raised both his hands and waved them to quiet down, which they did immediately. The authoritative air the man carried was frightening.

"Gents," he said, sneering. "You all be aware that the treasure we be finding on this little voyage is to be shared equally among us all. And mighty fine that is too. But if everything be an equal share, now in my humble opinion that includes the bearins' too, what say you all?"

"Aye!" the crew muttered between themselves.

Barbossa nodded, encouraged by the positive reaction he had gotten so far. "It seems to me that we have a little problem here trustin' our fine captain who won' share the bearings with us and seems to have a terrible wantin' to keep 'em known only to himself."

"Aye!" Pintel said, a little too loudly for Barbossa's liking, who glared at the smaller man with distaste. Pintel shuffled his feet and looked down, scowling.

Barbossa reached up as if to adjust his hat to full effect, then realised that he had lost the cursed thing the night before. Finding something new to do with his hands, he outstretched them to the men, palms up. The gesture was reminiscent of something Jack might have done, but with better effect coming from the captain. Barbossa was not a man who normally waved his hands around, except to hit people or to draw his sword.

"Gentleman," he stated, as if giving the most important speech of his life. "I think yeh know what we need to do 'ere. Lets take a vote – if yeh's want me to take charge ere' I will obtain the bearins of the Isla De Muerta from Jack Sparrow and I will take over as Captain to ensure we all get there alive. And rest assured gents," he added, looking from one man to another, resting his eyes on each one as if implanting thoughts into their very heads, "I will not be runnin' into my cabin at the firs' sign of anythin' how shall I say….. unusual."

The men cackled. William stared around him aghast. The faces of some of the crew told him that this was not the first time they had heard Barbossa's plan at all. He had been working on them for the last couple of days, it was obvious now. William stared around him as the men mumbled and huddled together, thinking it over, actually deciding on whether to take a vote on this man's plan! He suddenly became aware of Barbossa's cold eyes, boring into him, his face serious and expressionless. Without his ridiculous oversized hat, Barbossa's grave, uncaring face was in full view and it was not a pretty sight.

"What say yeh Bootstrap?" Barbossa had the nerve to ask him.

William didn't reply. He couldn't trust himself to find the words. Instead, he turned and quickly began to walk away to think. Barbossa was upon him in seconds, he grabbed William's arm and spun him around to face him. William found himself backed up against the main mast, Barbossa's cutlass pointing at his neck.

"If yeh' not with me Bill yeh against me," Barbossa reasoned. "And that's all fair n'uff I suppose. But it'd be a mighty shame to warn Jack and throw in your lot wiv 'im and all 'es got coming to him, yeh think? 'E told me you 'ad a son at 'ome in merry old England. I would guess that's where your share of the treasure will be goin… well…" Barbossa laughed and continued, "'E's never goin' to see a single piece of it, is he Bill, if you end up falling overboard 'ere? Terrible shame should that 'appen, in the middle of the ocean with these unnatural storms 'an all."

Some of the crew stood behind Barbossa, sneering at William. It was painfully obvious whose side they were now on. William knew his own sword hung in his belt and was helpless to reach for it, with the point of Barbossa's just inches from his throat. He would be thrown overboard with his throat cut in less than a minute and no one would be able to help him. From the looks of things, no one would even want to.

Barbossa laughed quietly, a poisonous, deadly laugh that put chills down William's spine, even in the warm sun.

"So," the first mate said, looking William up and down, "We 'ave a choice Bill. We can join up to this venture and get some treasure for yeh' young lad or we can forget 'bout all that and pay a little visit to Davy Jones' locker. Which is it te be? Eh?"

There was a pause and William looked past Barbossa at the crew who stood and stared right back at him. Not one stepped forward to challenge the man. Bloody bunch of pirates. Barbossa hadn't moved an inch – he knew the crew were behind him and supporting him, and he didn't need to even check that they were not about to challenge him.

William lowered his eyes. "I'm with yeh Barbossa." He murmured, hardly believing what he had just done. But his desire to see his wife again and his wonderful son was overwhelming and in the end they had to come first. He was determined to give William junior a better life than the one currently mapped out for him – a life of poverty and hardship. That had to come first.

Barbossa nodded smugly and slowly withdrew his cutlass. "We have an accord," he breathed triumphantly and strode away, knowing he had just won over the most difficult member of the crew and in doing so had secured the support of every other crewman who might have dared challenge him, unlikely though that was.

William stood with his back to the mast for what seemed like a long time, stunned into silence and watching the scene slowly unfold around him. Barbossa out of his sight for now, the crew went back to their stations, some travelled below decks to rest or try and find something to eat or drink. They seemed unconcerned and casual, as if they plotted to overthrow their captain every day of the week.

William slid down the mast and sat on the deck, staring into space, his mind whirling. So Barbossa was going to take over the ship – but when? Not right away it would seem, so when then? And how? Did he plan to murder Jack in his sleep? No surely not, that wasn't right with the code and Barbossa seemed to be a man to keep to the code. Didn't he? So what could he do and could William stop him? It seemed unlikely. He was vastly outnumbered and none of the crew would fight fair. He could warn Jack true enough but to what end? They were in the middle of mysterious waters and not coming up on land yet. If they were thrown overboard, that was that. And William would never see his family again, not only that, but they would never know what had happened to him. Shaking, he put his head in his hands as he realised that there was not a single thing he could do to either stop this from happening or help Jack.

He squinted up into the sunlight as a hand outstretched to him, ready to pull him up. Bloody Barbossa. Why didn't he just leave William alone? He found himself gripping onto Barbossa and heaving himself up on his feet.

"I'll not kill 'im Bootstrap," he said in a low voice. "Gotta keep te the code, see. Just put 'im out of action, thas' all I'm goin' to do. You'll play no part in it, if thas what makes yeh 'appy."

Happy? No that didn't make William happy, of course it didn't. He looked right into Barbossa's eyes, hating him with every ounce of strength he had.

"You'll pay for this Barbossa. You'll regret doin' it, its not right. Yeh'll get whats comin' to yeh so you will."

Barbossa laughed. "Maybe Bootstrap, maybe. But not today." And he walked away still laughing, William staring after him.

TBC