Ch. 4

Barbossa stood out on deck, staring at the heavy wooden doors. Elizabeth had been hiding in there for over a day, and he had tolerated to this point, but enough was enough. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. You can kill without thought, but you can't evict a whiny girl from your cabin? Hardly a man who deserves to be feared by all who meet him. Fueled by that thought, he opened the doors quickly and strode down the hall to where his sleeping quarters were. He placed his hand on the doorknob, only to find it locked. He went over and tried the door to the other room. Locked. No matter; he had a key in his desk…which was in the cabin. Utterly ridiculous. Sighing, he knocked on the door. "Miss Turner…Miss Turner!" he repeated when no answer came. Still nothing.

"Miss Turner, I know yer in there," he said impatiently. "Open up. There's no reason to be afraid. You're worthless t'me dead." He heard someone stir, but the door remained locked. "You have exactly three seconds to open this door, Miss Turner, unless you fancy spending tonight with the crew. One…two…" Hearing something in the doorknob click, Barbossa pushed the door open roughly and glared at the young woman. She was sitting on a bench and staring out the window with tear-stained eyes. "Get out," he muttered, pulling her away from the window. "I didn't allot ye the finest guest cabin, just for ye to steal mine. Go on. If ye need anythin', you can ask the crew. They're under strict orders not to touch ye." Elizabeth gave him a look of pure loathing before wordlessly pushing past him and striding out of the cabin.

Sighing again, Barbossa closed the cabin doors and sat down wearily on the edge of his bed. "Women…" he muttered, lying down and attempting to sleep.

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"'Lot's o' adventure', the cap'n says," Pintel grumbled, leaning back in his hammock. "'Wealth beyond imagination', he says…Two days out t' sea, an' what've we got to show for it? Nothin', that's what. I doubt 'e even knows where we're goin'."

Bootstrap Bill shrugged and took a long draw out of his pipe. "I wouldn't be so quick to doubt our captain, Pintel, if were you. I've known Jack far longer than any of ye, and he's one of the best cartographers 'round."

"But therein lies the problem," Barbossa interrupted. The men stiffened slightly as they noticed the first mate's presence, but he just grinned easily and continued. "Jack's a cartographer, not a pirate. Takes a lot more'n a ship and some trinkets to hide that."

"That would be Cap'n Sparrow to you, Barbossa," Bootstrap said sternly.

Barbossa dismissed the correction with a wave of his hand. "Same difference. The fact o' the matter is, he's not a real pirate. He just doesn't have it in 'im."

"He's more experienced than you think," Bootstrap argued. "Been a sailor since 'e was a lad, an' a captain for just about as long. I've sailed under 'im before, an' there's no one I'd trust with my life more. Just give him time. We'll all be rich men soon enough, and then you'll thank 'im."

"Perhaps, Bill, perhaps," Barbossa conceded. "But what if I were to tell ye that Jack -I mean Cap'n Sparrow- doesn't plan on sharin'?" Suspicious murmurs went through the room, and all eyes were glued on Barbossa.

"What d'ye mean?" Pintel asked. "Accordin' to the Code, everythin's in equal share. 'e can't-"

"Can't he, Mr. Pintel?" Barbossa replied. "After all, he is Captain. What's to stop 'im from takin' off with our treasure soon as we get back to Tortuga? All I know is, were I the cap'n, I'd see to it that-"

"Impossible," Bootstrap interrupted. "Jack's no saint, but he's honest enough when it comes down to it. I'd watch myself, Barbossa, if I were you. You're beginnin' to sound a bit mutinous yeself."

Barbossa lowered his voice. "And what if I am, Bootstrap? Hmm? Can I help it if I'm forced to work under an incompetent captain? We're better than this! All of us! I've been a pirate far longer than Mr. Sparrow, and I'm not unaccustomed to leadership positions."

Bootstrap's eyes widened with realization. "You mean to mutiny against Jack," he said in a low voice. "All of you."

"Relax, Bill, we'll do him no real harm," Barbossa assured him. "Just a brief stay down in the brig while we take what's rightfully ours. When we get back to Tortuga, he's free to do as he wishes. No harm done."

"No," Bootstrap said, standing up to leave. "I won't stand for it."

Barbossa strode after the man and grabbed him by the arm. "You're the one who should be watchin' yeself, Turner," he whispered malevolently. "Bein' a 'good man' won't get ye far in the real world. You have to take what ye can, when ye can."

Bootstrap shook his head stubbornly. "I won't go along with this, Barbossa. We'll see what Jack has to say about your plans." Frowning, he started to walk away again.

"Quite a nice lil' family ye got back in England, aye Bill?" Barbossa called after him. "Beautiful wife…an' a child too, if memory serves me. T'would be a shame if something was to happen that'd leave them without a source o' income…"

Bootstrap stopped in his tracks. "Leave my family out of this, Barbossa," he warned, clenching his fists.

"Or maybe I could just kill 'em myself," Barbossa continued. "T'would be far more merciful, actually, than lettin' 'em starve to death…What are they worth, Bootstrap? You best decide now. Betray an old friend, or sentence yer wife an' child to almost certain death. It's your choice…Is doing the 'right thing' worth your family's life?" When Bootstrap didn't answer, Barbossa just smiled triumphantly. "You do what you deem is best, Bill. But if I were you, I'd take a long, hard look at the consequences first."

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"Where is 'e?" one of the men asked impatiently, looking around the deck.

"Patience, Mr. Ragetti, patience," Barbossa assured him. "Bootstrap's doin' his job as we speak." At least, he was supposed to be… As if in response to his thoughts, Bootstrap appeared on deck, wearing an uneasy expression on his face. "…Well?" Barbossa asked when the man didn't speak.

"He's coming," Bootstrap muttered reluctantly. "I have yer word that no harm'll come his way?"

"I swear to ye upon pain of death, I'll not so much as lift a finger against Jack Sparrow," Barbossa replied. "This is just a little transfer of power in the best interest of everyone." Bootstrap started to say something, but was interrupted by Jack coming on deck.

Taking in the situation with one swift glance, the young captain frowned. "What's the meaning of this, Mr. Barbossa?" he asked, though his expression showed that he understood all too well what was happening.

Barbossa grinned maliciously. "Bill, tell 'im why we're here."

"You tell him," Bootstrap said stubbornly. "This is your little insurrection, after all. I've done my part."

In response, Barbossa simply mouthed the word 'family' and placed a hand casually on his pistol.

A look of loathing passed over Bootstrap's face before he gathered himself and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well…uh, Jack…it's…come to our attention that perhaps…yer not exactly fit to lead this crew…" he said, picking his words carefully. "And…in the best interest of everyone…we've determined it best to detain you for the remainder of the voyage."

"Bind him," Barbossa ordered, handing Bootstrap a length of rope. "Now," he added forcefully when the man didn't move.

Reluctantly, Bill went over and tied the rope tightly around Jack's wrists. "I'm so sorry, Jack," he whispered, avoiding his friend's gaze.

"Thank ye, Bootstrap," Barbossa said dryly. He snapped his fingers, and two men extended the plank while two others grabbed Bootstrap's arms to hold him back. The rest of the crew advanced forward with their weapons drawn, forcing Jack toward the narrow plank.

Jack licked his lips nervously and looked over the side of the ship. With no pleading in his voice, he addressed what he had thought to be his loyal crew. "So this is what it comes to, is it?" he asked. "This is all it takes to persuade all of ye. One man…So much for my loyal mates, aye?"

"Very touching," Barbossa sneered. "Now off ye go."

"This is low, Barbossa," Jack said fiercely. "Even for a pirate. If you insist upon commandeering your own ship, at least make it an honest steal."

"Ah, to be so naïve," Barbossa said, putting an arm around Jack's shoulder. "Jack…did ye honestly think a humble cartographer from England could become a pirate captain just because he struck lucky and found a mythical map? The Pearl's a fine ship, Jack; too fine for you. However, I'd hate to leave ye empty-handed, so I'll make ye a little deal. See that island o'er yonder?" he asked, directing the young man's attention to a spit of land in the distance. "All yours, to do with as you please. I hope you find it accommodatin', 'cause you'll never set foot off it again."

"Hector, this is wrong," Bootstrap interrupted, struggling against the two men that restrained him. "You swore to me Jack wouldn't be killed!"

"And what, you want to suffer the same fate? Hmm?" The man fell silent and cast his gaze down at the deck. Too loyal, that one… "I thought not…However, I'm a man of my word, and so I'm afraid I won't be killin' ye myself. How and when you die, Jack Sparrow, will be entirely up to you," Barbossa said, forcing him out onto the plank and tossing him a pistol with a single shot in it. "You've got but one shot, though, so use it wisely."

The young captain gazed steadily at him, surprising Barbossa with how much hatred his dark eyes contained. "If it's the last thing I do, Barbossa, I will make you pay," he swore fiercely.

Barbossa grinned wickedly. "Then for yer sake, I hope you're a good swimmer." With that, he stomped on the plank, sending Jack Sparrow to his certain death.

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"Cap'n," Bo'sun said, causing Barbossa to wake with a start.

"Do ye not understand the concept of knockin', Bo'sun?" Barbossa muttered. "What is it?"

"Sir, we're nearin' Isla de Muerta."

"Very good, Bo'sun," Barbossa said in annoyance, getting up and beginning to stride around the room. "Anythin' else?"

"No, sir."

"Bo'sun, do you recall what we've done every single time we've come to Isla de Muerta?" he asked.

"Aye, sir."

"An' do ye need instruction as to how to proceed?"

"No, sir."

"Then why the blazes did ye disturb me?" Barbossa shouted suddenly. "You know what to do; now do it!"

"Aye, sir," Bo'sun said, bowing his head shortly and striding out.

Rubbing his forehead wearily, Barbossa lay back down, but every attempt to sleep was thwarted by dreams and memories. Finally he gave up, went into the other room, and began pacing. Why were these memories choosing to resurface now? He'd suppressed them for near ten years now, but they were suddenly showing up again. Why? In a sudden fit of rage, he flung the remnants of the night-before-last's dinner off of the table. He felt no remorse over what he'd done to Jack Sparrow; in fact, he was rather proud of it. A man that stupid had no right to be captain of his own ship. But still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something…

A/N: Okay, so this chapter was a bit longer...sorry about the shortness of the first three; it's hard dividing one continuous movie into chapters, and that was just the way everything fit in. Hopefully most of the chapters from here on will be longer and a bit more interesting. Please review!