Chapter 6- So There is a Curse
Thank you, those of you who reviewed. It means a lot.
I am making no money off of this and Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney.
Now I am sorry to say that, if everything goes according to plan, the next chapter will be the last. But I'll be putting up the next chapter of Wanted before I even start writing Chapter 7 of this, and then I'll probably drop everything due to finals at the end of January. However, I am currently off for Christmas, so there is a chance that I can finish the next bit of Wanted over break and then put up Chapter 7 before finals start. But it's not promising. (Check my profile for updates as they happen.)
The Pearl was here.
Jack could hardly believe it. What the blazes could Barbossa want in Port Royal? Him? No, that was impossible. Even if Barbossa did know he was here (unlikely) there was no way he could have gotten here so fast.
So it had to be for another reason. But Jack was clueless as to what it was.
He sighed, exasperated. Too many unanswered questions. Why was Barbossa here, where the hell did that Swann girl get that coin, why did that irritating blacksmith look so familiar, and (most importantly) how was he going to keep himself from getting hanged in the morning?
The last one he was sure he could figure out, especially now that he had a little peace and quiet. It had rankled that the cannonball that struck the prison hadn't knocked a hole in his cell too, but at least he was now alone, and didn't have to listen to the other prisoners going to pieces in their cell.
There was only one thing for it. Leaning through the bars, he picked up the bone (he wasn't sure what animal it had come from, and at the moment he was having the sneaking suspicion that it hadn't come from an animal at all) that one of the men from the other cell had been using to try and tempt that flea-ridden mongrel with the keys.
"Come 'ere, doggy! It's just you and me now. Just you an' ol' Jack. Come 'ere! Come on, you filthy-"
Suddenly, a loud, scraping clunk came from upstairs. The dog, frightened, ran off down the hall.
"No no, I didn't mean it!" Jack called uselessly. The dog had gone.
A shot came from upstairs, and the body of a dead soldier tumbled down the steps. Before Jack had time to digest this, two men came running down the stairs, their weapons drawn. Two men that he knew. Twigg, a short, stocky man who always wore a leather skullcap and a nasty look, and Koehler, tall and black, who was still wearing his hair in those dreadlocks. Two crewmembers of the Black Pearl.
"This ain't the armory!" Twigg exclaimed, looking around the room.
But Jack barely registered Twigg, because Koehler, Koehler had spotted him at once, and was walking towards him, a disbelieving look on his face.
"Well, well, well," he said, sheathing his sword. "Look what we have 'ere Twigg. Captain Jack Sparrow." Koehler spit at Jack's feet to show him just what he thought of him.
"Last time I saw you, you were all alone on a Godforsaken island, shrinkin' into the distance. His fortunes aren't improved much." Twigg said.
"Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen." Jack said carelessly. "The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers," he finished icily.
Koehler thrust his arm through the bars with a grunt and grabbed Jacks throat. Jack stared at him. As his arm crossed the bars, it had entered the moonlight falling through the window- and become skeletal, his sleeve hanging away in tatters.
"So there is a curse." Jack said, mostly to himself. "That's interesting."
"You know nothing of hell," Koehler replied. He said it quietly, bitterly. He pushed Jack away and withdrew his arm.
Without another word, Twigg and Koehler turned to go, presumably in search of the armory.
Jack studied the bone he still held. "That's very interesting," he murmured.
If it was true, if the gold had been cursed, then that required a little adjustment on the way one viewed the world, now didn't it?
He had irrefutable proof that the curse existed. But if that curse was real, couldn't it be that that other curse, the one his father was always ranting on about, was real too?
No. That wasn't true, it couldn't be! Just because one legendary curse was real didn't mean they all were. Jack refused to believe life could be predestined like that.
But it was troubling all the same.
Morning arrived at last, bringing with it annoying birds that perched on the window and cooed loudly, waking Jack from his light sleep.
Stretching and casting the pigeons a dirty look, Jack assembled his scattered thoughts and examined them in the fresh light of morning. After lengthy meditation, he was still hopelessly stuck in the cell with no way out that he could see.
In a burst of utter frustration, he picked up the bone and threw in against the bars. It broke. Looks rather sharp, he thought absently. Sharp? He smiled.
Having managed to break off a relatively long, thin piece of the bone and stick it in the cell's lock, Jack now busied himself attempting to pick it. This was harder than it appeared.
He still wasn't making much progress when a loud noise emerged from up the stairs, followed by footsteps.
Thinking it might very well be someone sent to see if he was still locked up, Jack left the bars and lied down on the floor.
The footsteps approached the cell door at a run. "Sparrow!"
Jack lifted up his head. "Eh?"
It was the blacksmith from yesterday, he realized with interest. The boy had seemed intriguing, if only because of his familiarity. Yet to hear him tell it the two had never met. Perhaps a relative of his-
A relative? With a start, Jack realized who the boy looked like. How old would William's son be now? This boy was nineteen at youngest, in his early twenties at most. The boy had been just a wee thing last he had heard, but after the passage of ten years, perhaps…
"You're familiar with that ship, the Black Pearl?"
"I've 'eard of it." Jack replied.
"Where does it make berth?"
Jack lifted his head again. "Where does it make berth?" he repeated, surprised. "Haven't you 'eard the stories?" When the boy didn't reply, Jack sighed and looked back at the ceiling. "Captain Barbossa," -he was rather surprised to hear what could pass as irritation and slight dislike in his voice instead of the complete bitterness and downright hate so deeply ingrained in all his memories of the man- "And his crew of miscreants sail from the dreaded Ilsa de Muerta, an island that cannot be found, except," he looked up pointedly, "By those who already know where it is."
The blacksmith had a no nonsense look. "The ship's real enough. Therefore its anchorage must be a real place. Where is it?"
"Why ask me?" Jack was certain that this boy was William's son; the resemblance was too close for him not to be. Interesting.
"Because you're a pirate," came the impatient reply.
"And you want to turn pirate yourself, is that it?" he asked, testing the waters. The boy had clearly shown his views on piracy before now, but even so… he wondered.
"Never!" he waited for Jack to speak, when he did not, he continued. "They took Miss Swann," he concluded reluctantly.
"Oh so it is that you found yourself a girl!" his only response was an icy glare. "I see. Well, if you intend to brave all, hasten to her rescue, and so win fair lady's heart, you'll have to do it by yourself mate. I see no profit in it for me."
"I can get you out of here," he offered.
" 'Ow's that? The keys ran off."
"I helped build these cells," he replied. "These are half-pin barrel hinges," he picked up a bench from the opposite wall. "With the right leverage, and the proper application of strength," he propped the bench against the door strategically, "The door will lift free."
Jack considered him. He could get himself out eventually, he was sure. That blasted commodore might even put off hanging him in light of the recent attack on the town. But if this was William's son… Jack couldn't help feel he owed him.
Will. That was the boy's name- William Turner the second, bearing not only his father's name but his father's face as well. Every inch of Will was a reminder that Jack had serious business that had lain unfinished- but never forgotten- for ten long years.
In Jack's mind, Bill's horrible fate was irrevocably linked with his determination to get the Pearl back. Could this boy help him do it, if he was who Jack thought he was? Undoubtedly.
But Jack had to know for sure, first. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Will Turner."
Jack could swear his heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. William's son. This was the boy who had never been long from his dear friend's mind, the beloved and only child of Jack's dead best friend.
"That would be short for William, I imagine. Good strong name. No doubt named for your father, eh?" he asked casually.
Will looked surprised. "Yes."
"Ah." Jack said.
Perfect. It was too perfect. This was the boy whose blood Barbossa needed. So why not propose a trade? Will for the Pearl. Not that Jack would actually give Barbossa Will. No, he would allow no harm to come to William's son, but the trick was to make Barbossa think he was willing to go further than he actually was. Then, at the last moment, Jack, Will, and that bloody Swann girl could slip away.
Come to think of it, the girl's possession of a cursed Aztec coin was not nearly as surprising now that he realized she and Will were acquainted. And of course the coin was the reason for Barbossa had been here last night. Things were falling into place.
Jack would get the Pearl back, at long last. And he would be able to fulfill the debt he felt he owed to William. After all, his friend would be here today if not for Jack.
This is very roundabout logic. Bill ended up getting weighted down and chucked into the ocean because he felt he owed Jack for forgiving him for his unwilling participation in the mutiny. Now Jack feels that he owes Bill for getting himself stuck at the bottom of the ocean for his loyalty, because he doesn't know that Bill felt he was repaying a debt. Jack wants to help Will not only because Will can end up helping him, but also because he feels it will repay his debt to Bill. Never mind the fact that he will owe Will anyway for breaking him out of prison. (At this point, the author encourages the reader to please remember that this is a story about Jack Sparrow, who is not the sanest of men, so if the above paragraph was all Greek to you, it is all right and in no way suggests that you are unintelligent.)
"Well Mr. Turner," said Jack, standing up. "I've changed me mind. If you spring me from this cell, I swear on pain of death, I shall take you to the Black Pearl, and your bonny lass. Do we have an accord?" he held out his hand.
Will looked at Jack's hand for a moment, then said, "Agreed," and shook it.
"Agreed." Jack repeated. "Get me out."
In one fluid (and rather impressive) movement, Will used the bench to push the door up off it's hinges, then grabbed it and threw it aside. "Hurry," he said. "Someone will have heard that."
Jack made immediately for a small table near the wall from which his possessions hung. "Not without my effects," he said.
Jack couldn't help but smile as he and Will ran up the stairs and put of the fort. After ten years, his luck was starting to improve.
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