A/N: Okay, I'm beginning to suspect a computer conspiracy against my fanfics. Just like last chapter, I had everything set up and ready to post, when the internet dies...again. One week and $400 later, it should be permenantly fixed, but...yeah. I still think it's a conspiracy. Anyway, so sorry about the wait, but I somewhat made up for it by revamping my first two fanfics. No huge changes, but browse through them, and you should find several new little tidbits here and there (sort of like a director's cut, except it's an author's cut). Just think of it like a treasure hunt.
After reading another fanfic with a similar strategy, Hector has 'suggested' that he be allowed to respond to reviews, rather than me doing it myself, so...
Ani Sparrow: Firstly, lass, I must say I find ye choice of name rather...unsatisfactory. Why anyone would willingly be associated that man is beyond me. That bein' said, I myself have wondered why Koehler and Twigg did not find their encounter with Sparrow worth mentioning beforehand. The only logical explanation I can produce is that they're idiots. Pirateoftherings thanks ye kindly for the compliment, though she hardly deserves the credit, seein' as it was I who said it. She also mentioned that perhaps ye should note that any sentence in italics is a thought o' mine. As for the lack of said thoughts, I'm afraid most of what went through my mind at Sparrow's reappearance would not be fitting for this story's rating.
Xo900oX: An even more interesting name than above, though far more pleasing. Aye, unfortunately, I do remember Turner's treachery, and how he sent off that piece to his son. More to be said on that at a later date.
Sarah: Finally an individual with a normal name! I'm glad ye find this interestin'. Personally, I find it to be a rather tragic tale, but perhaps that's just my perspective. Of course, I wouldn't be too trustin' of the perspective of anyone who could find it within herself to actually like Bootstrap Bill Turner. My contempt for that man is second only to that which I have for Sparrow.
RespectTheSporks: No comment on the name (chiefly because I haven't the faintest idea what a 'spork' is, nor why it should be respected). However, pirateoftherings asks that I express her great joy at your review. She says that she is quite happy you don't hate her for killing Jack (though personally I don't see why you would; I myself found it to be her best work yet). Keep reviewing.
Ch. 6
As soon as they had set sail, Barbossa led Jack to his cabin. He at first pretended not to notice how Jack touched every detail of the woodwork they passed, as if reacquainting himself with an old friend. However, when the idiot spent almost five minutes caressing one of the handrails, his patience wore out. "C'mon," he muttered, grabbing the man roughly by the sleeve and dragging him toward the cabin.
Once inside his cabin, Barbossa sat down behind the table, while Jack continued walking around the room and picking up articles he had no business touching. "Enough stalling, Sparrow," he finally said, standing up and grabbing an astrolabe out of Jack's hands. "I believe ye have somethin' to tell me."
Jack looked at him blankly and picked up a small book to replace the astrolabe. "What?" he asked, flipping through the pages without actually reading.
"The answer to my question," Barbossa said impatiently. "Ye didn't answer my question."
"Oh," Jack replied absently, but still didn't answer.
It was all Barbossa could do to keep from strangling him then and there. "Blast it, Sparrow, I don't have time for this! Answer me right now, or so help me, I'll kill ye!"
"Yes."
"…Yes?"
"Yes," Jack said, setting the book on a shelf. "The answer to your question is 'yes'."
Barbossa sighed and sat back down to keep himself from lunging at the man. "It wasn't a 'yes' or 'no' question," he said, struggling to keep his voice even.
"Sure it was," Jack argued. "You asked if I knew whose blood ye need, and my answer is yes, I do happen to know whose blood ye need. Whether I feel inclined to share that little tidbit of information is a completely different matter, however."
Barbossa placed a hand on his pistol. "I'm tempted to kill ye now an' get it over with."
"But you won't," Jack pointed out smugly. "I'm the only one with the information ye need…I must say, I'm disappointed, Barbossa," he remarked, changing the subject suddenly. "I expected you to take better care of my ship."
"It's not your ship."
"The very matter we need to rectify," Jack replied, resuming his strolling. "Let's face it, Barbossa: we both have something the other wants."
"That's the terms you're negotiatin' for?" Barbossa asked. "You get the Pearl?"
"That's my terms, and no negotiating."
Barbossa contemplated his options. "Yer hardly in a position to make demands, Jack," he commented.
"Oh, I think I am," Jack argued. "…You and I both know you want this curse lifted as soon as possible."
"I'm not desperate," Barbossa lied.
"But still, it would be nice to be able to feel again, wouldn't it, Hector? To stand on deck and feel the sea breeze on your face? To feel the smoothness of wine going down your throat…"
"Alright," Barbossa snarled, cutting the man off. "…Name ye terms, Sparrow."
Jack just shrugged. "I already did. All I want is the Pearl, Barbossa. In exchange, I give you the name of Bootstrap's child. After that, you'll be dropped off at a port of your choice, free to continue the search as you please."
"So you expect to leave me standin' on some beach with nothin' but a name and your word it's the one I need and watch you sail away in my ship?"
"No," Jack scoffed, asthough the mere thought was absurd. "I expect to leave you standing on some beach with absolutely no name at all, watching me sail away in my ship, and I'll shout the name back to you…Savvy?"
"But that still leaves us with the problem of me standin' on some beach with naught but a name and your word it's the one I need."
Jack began carefully selecting an apple from the bowl on the table. "Of the two of us, I'm the only one that hasn't committed mutiny. Therefore, my word's the one we'll be trusting. Although," he added, sitting down and propping his feet on the table, "I suppose I should be thanking you because in fact, if you hadn't betrayed me and left me to die, I'd have an equal share in that curse, same as you." He took a large bite out of the apple. "Funny ol' world, innit?" Barbossa just shot him an insincere smirk and looked away.
"Captain," Bo'sun said , coming into the cabin. "We're comin' up on the Interceptor." Grateful for the interruption, Barbossa stood up and followed the man out, giving Jack a look that clearly said, We're not finished here.
---
Hurrying up the steps to the helm, Barbossa pulled out his spyglass and began studying their prey. He had no sooner focused on the small ship, though, than Jack Sparrow's face appeared through the glass. "I'm having a though, here, Barbossa," he said, gesticulating widely. That's a first… "What say we run up a flag of truce, I scurry over to the Interceptor, and I negotiate the return of your medallion, aye? What say you to that?"
Barbossa sneered. He's up to something. "Now you see, Jack, that's exactly the attitude that lost ye the Pearl…People are easy to search when they're dead!" He snapped the spyglass shut and turned to Bo'sun. "Lock 'im in the brig." As Jack was grabbed firmly by the shoulder and led away, Barbossa grabbed the half-eaten apple out of his hand. Frustrated, he suddenly hurled it through one of the many holes in the sail.
Raising his spyglass, Barbossa studied the small ship again. Apparently they had been spotted, for men were now scurrying around deck, dumping cargo in a desperate attempt to lighten the ship. Spotting the nearby shoals off to starboard, Barbossa guessed their strategy. "Haul out the main brace! Make ready the guns!" he ordered. Turning to Bo'sun, he added, "And run out the sweeps." They won't get away that easily.
---
Her long oars stroking powerfully through the choppy water, the Black Pearl began closing in on the tiny Interceptor. By the panic on deck, Barbossa inferred that their opponents had given up on escaping. Suddenly, they dropped their starboard anchor, and the small ship began to pivot back around. Are they daft? "They're clubhaulin'!" he shouted to the crew. "Hard to port! Rack the starboard oars!"
"Hard to port!" Bo'sun repeated loudly. The helmsmen put their full weight into the wheel, bringing the Black Pearl side-to-side with the Interceptor. Men from both ships shouted at each other fiercely, brandishing weapons as well as verbal threats.
"Fire!" he cried.
Canons roared, ripping holes in the hulls of both ships. Barbossa pulled out his pistol and fired several shots across the gap. Suddenly, he felt something sharp pierce his left arm. Looking down, he realized it was a silver kitchen knife. Have they completely lost it? he wondered, extracting the knife and tossing it aside. If Sparrow ever deserved a crew, it was this sorry lot. "Pintel!" he shouted to one of the men, who was hurrying below deck with more ammunition. "We need that mast taken out! Give 'em a chain shot!" The pirate grinned evilly in response and disappeared down the steps."Raise yer colors, ya bloomin' cockroaches!" he cried across the gap to their opponents. "Hands! Grapnels at the ready! Prepare to board!" One of the canons exploded, striking the Interceptor's mainmast near the base. As everyone scurried to avoid the falling mast, Barbossa simply walked forward, stopping just in front of where the main royal yard struck the deck. "Pistols and cutlasses, men! Koehler and Twigg to the powder magazine! And the rest of you, bring me that medallion!" The monkey sprang off his shoulder and used the fallen mast as a bridge to cross the gap.
Out of the corner of his eye, Barbossa saw Jack stagger on deck and use a rope to swing over to the other ship. How did he-? Never mind, I'll deal with him later, he thought, casually taking out one of the men with his sword. Did these morons really think they could win? They were vastly outnumbered, and Barbossa's men couldn't die. It was only a matter of time until the battle was won. As though confirming his speculations, the monkey suddenly clambered back across the mast, followed closely by Jack. Barely avoiding Jack's grasp, it hopped up onto Barbossa's shoulder and handed him the medallion.
Barbossa grinned dryly. "Why thank ye, Jack," he said.
"You're welcome," Jack replied sarcastically.
"Oh, not you," Barbossa clarified. "We named the monkey 'Jack'." It grinned helpfully in response to its name. "Gents, our hope is restored!" he shouted, raising the medallion in the air. The men cheered loudly and began rounding up the Interceptor's crew and clearing off the deck. Koehler and Twigg hurried across the gap and nodded to Barbossa, who signaled for the Black Pearl to be moved away from the wreckage.
Rubbing over the medallion with his thumb, Barbossa waited. "If any o' you so much as thinks the word 'parley', I'll have yer guts for garters," he heard Pintel threaten the prisoners. Smirking, Barbossa watched as the Interceptor went up in a fiery explosion.
Behind him, Elizabeth suddenly freed herself from the ropes. "You've got to stop it!" she shrieked, throwing herself at him. "Stop it!"
Grinning, Barbossa caught her firmly by the wrists. "Welcome back, Miss! Ye took advantage of our hospitality last time…It holds fair now you return the favor!" The girl screamed as she was pushed into the eager crew.
"Barbossa!" someone shouted. Barbossa whipped around to see a young man standing on the handrail, dripping wet. Hopping down, the new arrival picked up Jack's pistol and leveled it at Barbossa. "She goes free."
"What's in yer head, boy?" he asked, stepping forward.
The young man didn't flinch. "She goes free."
"You've only got one shot, and we can't die," Barbossa pointed out.
Behind him, he heard Jack whisper, "Don't do anything stupid…"
A friend of his, perhaps?
"You can't," the boy said, climbing back up and pointing the gun at his own throat. "I can."
Yep, definitely a friend of Jack's.
"…Like that."
For once, Barbossa was truly confused. "Who are you?" he finally asked. The boy looked familiar, but…
"No one!" Jack said quickly, putting himself between them. "He's no one. Distant cousin of my aunt's nephew, twice removed. Lovely singing voice, though…eunuch."
"My name is Will Turner," the young man interrupted. "My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner. His blood runs in my veins." Barbossa glared down at Jack, who hung his head despondently and walked away.
"He's the spittin' image of ol' Bootstrap Bill, come back to 'aunt us!" Ragetti cried.
"On my word, do as I say, or I'll pull this trigger and be lost to Davey Jones' Locker."
Barbossa studied the young man. He certainly looked the part. "Name ye terms, Mr. Turner," he conceded.
"Elizabeth goes free!"
Definitely Bootstrap's son. "Yes, we know that one. Anythin' else?"
"…And the crew," Turner added, blatantly ignoring Jack's waving. "The crew are not to be harmed."
Barbossa grinned, immediately taking note of what the young man didn't say. "Agreed."
Disclaimer: 99 percent of this is mine or Disney's (with my added perspective), but there is one little part that I borrowed from the very first POTC script. The lines
"…I must say, I'm disappointed, Barbossa. I expected you to take better care of my ship."
"It's not your ship."
"The very matter we need to rectify."
were taken directly from the original script (though I added my own actions and such to make it fit). Just thought I'd mention that so I don't get sued.