A/N: well here I go again! Chapter two already! Dang, I love these movies. But then again, who DOESN'T love Johnny Depp as a drunken pirate?
Anyway…ENJOY THE SHOW!
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Red dawn, sailors take warning….
The day broke silently, gray clouds covering the sky, heralding in the oncoming storm. The wind, already picking up speed, blew into the Black Pearl's sails, causing them to flap wildly about. All crew on deck ran to secure them, but Elizabeth Swann stood perfectly still, leaning on the railing and looking out over the ocean. Something didn't feel right about this storm. Everyone could feel it, a sense of urgency growing, pushing them faster and faster towards their destination. Even Jack had been acting strange, and it bore ill for everyone aboard.
Sighing, she looked up at the captain, currently standing with back towards her, deep in thought. It had been his idea to go after the treasure of the Lost Island…what could be troubling him? Elizabeth walked carefully up towards him, passing Cotton at the mast. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and whispered, "Jack? What's wrong?"
He didn't look at her. He didn't move. "What's wrong? You KNOW what's wrong, Miss Swann…" Slowly he turned to her, and Elizabeth screamed. Instead of the handsome, rugged pirate, there stood a rotten, waterlogged corpse, mouth in a sneer.
"You killed me…."
With a yelp, Elizabeth found herself tumbling out of her bunk and onto the floor of the crew's quarters. Shakily, she rubbed her shoulders, desperately trying to get the images out of her mind. A dream…it had only been a dream…. third one this week, and they were getting more vivid. Ever since IT had happened, Elizabeth had not slept well, and it showed. Her spirits had been low, eyes sunken and hollow, and she no longer talked to anyone but Will. Elizabeth felt tears threatening to form, and she rubbed at her eyes furiously. The sound of footsteps jarred her from her thoughts, and she looked up. Will stood in the doorway, concern written on his face, "Elizabeth? Are you alright?" Without a word, she ran to him and hugged him tightly. Surprised, he merely stroked her hair gently and looked down at her. "Another bad dream?"
She nodded. "I—I can't get his face out of my mind…." She clung tighter to his jacket and cried, unashamed.
He smiled sadly. "You miss him terribly, don't you?" She nodded slightly, and looked up at him. Will caressed her cheek sadly, and then pulled away. "Then…it should have been me that stayed behind." He turned around, and walked back up to the deck. The slightest trace of sadness lingered on his words, and Elizabeth made a motion to follow him, then thought better of it and went back to her bunk, sighing. Everything had changed after that kiss…
Even herself…
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The pirate ship Revenge had been well known in the waters of the Caribbean as being a fast and merciless ship under the fist of the fearsome Blackbeard, before falling under the guns of the royal navy. How and where Tia Dalma had retrieved it didn't really matter to Will Turner as they sailed closer to the Land of the Dead. All that lay on the young pirate's mind was Elizabeth's lips on the now deceased Jack Sparrow. The pain that it had caused him had long since died out, and now the question of HOW Jack had met his demise had settled comfortably on his mind. There HAD to be a connection between his death and the kiss…
"Avast, Mr. Turner! Get yer head out of th' clouds and secure the rigging before I keel-haul you!"
And then, there was Barbossa.
There had been quite the uproar when he had tromped down the stairs of Tia Dalma's hut, as if he'd never died. Amid the surprised yells, shouted threats, and high-pitched monkey screeches, Tia Dalma had explained how she had brought him back, and why.
"It all bery simple," she had said, eyelids half-closed. "Tia Dalma got de blessing of de goddess of de wata, Tia bring him soul back from de land of de dead, an' make him captain for you." She had smiled devilishly at them. "Don' be tinkin' it be so easy to be gettin' Jack back, though." Grabbing a handful of dust, she sprinkled it over the strange carvings on her table, and passed her hand over it. "He be far from reach now, deep in her realm."
"Her?" Gibbs had asked nervously.
Tia Dalma nodded slowly. "No doubt you be knowin' de story of Calypso, yes?" All but Elizabeth and Will had paled at the mention of that name.
Pintel was the first to speak. "Y-You don't REALLY mean the goddess of th' sea, do ya?"
She just smiled again. "Ah so ya DO know 'er? " Tia leaned in. "Dey say she be de one dat all dead sailors go to when dey die. No man can look at 'er widout lovin' 'er." She leaned back, a blue-stained smile on her lips. "For what sailor can NOT love an' serve de sea?"
Will sighed. All that had happened made his head hurt, especially sailing under the man who had almost slit his throat nearly a year ago. Securing the main line on the mizzenmast, he turned his attention to the rest of the crew. They seemed to work extra hard these days, no doubt anxious to get their beloved Jack back. They all worked so fast now…It was hard for a very distracted Scotsman to keep up, especially with a slave driver of a captain over his head. On top of everything else, there was the knowledge that his father was a captive, and that his one chance to save him had slipped through his fingers (He hadn't a CLUE where the heart was now. Last he saw of it, Jack had apparently taken it out of the chest). Another shout from Barbossa sounded through the relatively still air, and Will frowned. Apparently, another ship had been spotted….
"She's flyin' no colors, captain!" Marty called down from the crow's nest worriedly. One thought came readily to mind: The Flying Dutchman.
Barbossa didn't flinch. "To yer stations, lads! If she be the Flyin' Dutchman, then Davy Jones will not have us without a fight!" Picking up a spyglass, Will saw the ship perfectly: It was not the Flying Dutchman at all, merely a fishing vessel with no colors to fly (more than likely, it was a privately owned business operation). Something seemed amiss, however….
"Captain….", said Will nervously. "There's no one aboard."
Barbossa turned to Will, scowling. "Oh no?" Taking the spyglass, he looked for himself. "By the powers…. it's deserted." Barbossa looked at Will. "Something must've happened to the crew. Mr. Turner, pull the ship hard to starboard and get us alongside that ship…
"I want a better look…"
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"My GOD."
The sight that lay in front of them was not pretty at all: what crew that had been there had been, apparently, pecked to death by some sort of giant bird. Bits of flesh and feathers were scattered everywhere, the blood long since dried up. Only Gibbs seemed to find his voice. "Whoever they were, they were heavily armed." He gestured towards the guns, now spent and cold on the deck. "Mark me words, something unnatural did these poor souls in."
Barbossa tipped his hat respectfully to the deceased, then turned to the crew. "Take whatever is still usable and bring it back to the Revenge. We don't want to be lingering here for very long, not with whatever killed them still out there." As the others grabbed the guns and whatever provisions were left, Will headed for the captain's quarters, searching for clues to who the men had been. Amid the mess that lay thick on the floor, no doubt the work of the monstrous bird, he found a few things: record books, several signed and addressed envelopes, and a wooden box full of documents, all bearing the seal of the East India company. So they HAD been under British rule. Will flipped idly through the documents, most of them pretty standard for such an operation, but one letter caught his eye. It was a darker color of parchment than the rest of the letters, with a dark red seal that held the image of a Chinese symbol that Will couldn't decipher. Opening it carefully, Will started to read it. The handwriting was smooth and flowing, though the English was poor, and it seemed to be about an alliance between two fleets for a purpose unstated, signed by a certain Captain Sao Feng of the southern China Sea. Most peculiar of all was that it was addressed to none other than Lord Beckett. Will looked the letter over again, before taking it and leaving the ship with the others. He would show it to Elizabeth later…
No one onboard the Revenge looked back as they sailed away from the desolate ship. Bad luck, Gibbs had said. Bad luck to look back at the floating tomb of sailors long dead. Usually, Will wouldn't pay any heed to Gibbs's superstitious ramblings, but the sight aboard that ship had made everyone uneasy. What had attacked them?
What other monsters lurked upon the face of the deep?
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A/N: well, that's the first real chapter. Hope you like it! If you have any suggestions, just let me know, alright?