A/N: Another long chapter, and only one more to go! Hopefully it won't take much more than a week to get up, but my schedule's kinda crazy right now, so I make no promises...Please review!

Ani Sparrow: Apology accepted, lass. Pirateoftherings thanks ye for the kind compliment. I'm glad someone enjoyed what I had to endure with Sparrow in that cabin...I swear that man's an idiot. As to my thoughts upon young Turner's arrival, what else is to be expected? The lad's exactly like 'is father: brave, single-minded, but ultimately stupid. I almost felt guilty (but fortunately caught myself before such an emotion could fully develop) outwitting the clueless boy.

Sarah: Again, pirateoftherings thanks ye. She's expressed recent displeasure at the lack of reviews this story has been receiving and is glad to see that at least a few people still faithfully review (even if they must be reminded). Concerning your amusement with my thoughts about Turner: see above.

Ch. 7

Having suffered minor damages from the battle, it took them almost an hour to reach the island Barbossa had in mind. "Bring Miss Elizabeth forward," he called to the crew.

The men laughed cruelly and pushed her forward onto the narrow plank. "Go on, poppet!" "Go!" "Walk the plank!" they all taunted, using their weapons to force her further out. Gathering up her skirts, Elizabeth looked hesitantly over the edge.

"Barbossa, you lying bastard!" Turner shouted as he struggled against his captors. "You swore she'd go free!"

"Don't dare impugn me honor, boy," Barbossa snapped. "I agreed she'd go free, but it was you who failed to specify when or where." The pirates laughed and forced a gag into the young man's mouth. "Though it does seem a shame to lose something so fine, don't it, lads?" The crew agreed begrudgingly. "…So I'll be havin' that dress back before ye go."

Glaring at him, Elizabeth took off the dress -much to the delight of the crew- and tossed it to him. "Goes with your black heart."

Barbossa smirked in response. He knew he had a reputation of being heartless, and he liked it. "Ooh, it's still warm," he teased, throwing it to one of the men.

"Off you go!" Pintel taunted. "Go on!" The girl exchanged a last look of longing with Turner.

"Too long!" Bo'sun shouted, stomping on the plank. It shook violently and threw the young woman into the water below.

Jack stood there with the rest of the crew and laughed along with them…until they pushed him forward and he realized their intention. "I'd really rather hoped we were past all this," he said, smiling nervously.

Barbossa just grinned and put an arm around Jack's shoulder. "Jack…Jack…" he said condescendingly. "Did ye not notice? That be the same little island we made we gov'ner of on our last little trip."

Jack turned briefly to look. "I did notice."

""Maybe you'll be able to conjure up another miraculous escape…but I doubt it," Barbossa sneered, drawing his sword. "Now, off ye go."

Jack started to comply, but stopped suddenly as he seemed to remember something. "Last time, you gave me a pistol with a single shot."

"By the powers, yer right!" Barbossa said. "Where be Jack's pistol? Bring it forward!"

"…Seeing as there's two of us," Jack continued, testing his luck, "a gentleman would give us a pair of pistols."

"It'll be one pistol, as before, and you can be the gentleman, shoot the lady, and starve to death yeself," Barbossa replied, throwing Jack's belongings over the side. Shooting him one last look of pure loathing, Jack dove off the plank to retrieve them.

As soon as he was sure that both of them were swimming toward the island, Barbossa gave the order to make for Isla de Muerta. "Lock our esteemed guests in the brig," he told Bo'sun. "An' give young Mr. Turner a cell of his own. I'm not takin' any chances this time."

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"I won't ask ye again, Turner," Barbossa hissed evenly. "How do we undo the curse? I know Sparrow told ye."

Bootstrap set his jaw stubbornly. "I don't have to tell ye anything," he replied.

Barbossa raised a hand to strike the man, but changed his mind. "Yer right; ye don't have to," he said, shrugging casually. "…T'would make things easier on yer family, though."

"What do you mean?" Bootstrap asked warily.

"Y'know, s'not too difficult to procure information 'bout certain individuals," Barbossa continued. "Like, say, where they live? Comes in handy should you need to suddenly eliminate someone…"

Bootstrap's hand drifted to his sword. "Stay away from my family, Barbossa," he warned, his dark eyes flashing like embers.

"Then tell me how to lift the curse."

The man hesitated. "C'mon," he muttered, heading toward Barbossa's cabin. "He kept the information in here."

---

Searching the cabinets, Bootstrap finally produced a small wooden chest. He opened it up and carefully extracted an old Mayan codex written on pieces of bark. Sighing, he spread them out on the table. "When the Spanish explorer Hernando Cortes was still cutting a great bloody swath through the New World, there were frequent conflicts with the native Aztecs. One of the high priests promised Cortes all the gold they had, under one condition: the Aztecs' lives be spared. Cortes, being Cortes, agreed…only to kill them anyway once the gold had been obtained, despite the fact that he had given his word that he wouldn't." He paused to stare pointedly at the other man.

Barbossa ignored the look. "Would've made a great pirate, that one," he commented mildly. "Keep going."

Muttering something inaudible under his breath, Bootstrap continued. "So the priest, with his dying breath, called on the power of his people, and put on the gold a curse. Within a day of leaving port for Spain, on the treasure ship carrying the gold…something went wrong. The ship ran aground, and every man aboard died, save one. He survived long enough to hide the gold ashore. Over time, the dark magic of the curse seeped out, eventually surrounding the island in a ghostly shroud…An island of death."

"Isla de Muerta…" Barbossa whispered.

Bootstrap nodded. "Aye, the very same…Now the island cannot be found, save by those who know where it is. And even if one should find it, he is hardly to be considered fortunate, for a terrible curse still lies on that gold. Any mortal that takes so much as a single piece shall suffer for eternity, consumed by his own greed."

"It doesn't say anything about liftin' the curse?" Barbossa asked.

Bootstrap held up a finger and carefully examined the codex. "Ah, here it is…" he muttered. "In English, it translates to, 'As by greed ye be compelled, by greed ye be consumed. No longer among the living, not yet among the dead. Doomed to wander; ever wanting, never having. A secret only moonlight can tell. Begun by blood…'"

"…What?" Barbossa asked when the man didn't continue. "What does it say?"

"It doesn't," Bootstrap replied shortly, gathering up the pieces of bark and putting them back in the chest. "It stops there."

Barbossa raised a dubious eyebrow. "That's it? How do we end it, then?"

Bootstrap hesitated. "You return all the pieces."

"And that's all?"

"…Yes," the man said, nodding and swallowing hard. "That's all."

Barbossa grinned in satisfaction and turned to Bo'sun, who had been waiting just outside the cabin. "Grab him."

"What?" Bootstrap exclaimed in protest as he was grabbed by the arms and dragged out onto the deck. "Barbossa, you gave me your word!"

"No, I don't recall saying anythin' about your well-being when we made our little deal…Bind his hands."

As the rope was tied tightly around his wrists, Bootstrap spat in Barbossa's face. "I should never have trusted you," he said angrily.

"No, probably not," Barbossa agreed. "You were a great asset to this crew, Bill…but, like Jack, you've outlived yer usefulness." He signaled for the man to be forced onto the plank.

"What do ye accomplish by this?" Bootstrap asked, looking over the edge. "I can't die, so it does little good to send me off the plank."

Barbossa pretended to contemplate. "Yer absolutely right," he finally said. He motioned to Bo'sun, who pushed forward one of the cannons. "I can't kill ye, but I can do far worse…Strap 'im to the cannon!"

Bootstrap struggled violently against the men, but they managed to tie him to the heavy cannon. If looks could kill, Barbossa would have been a dead man. "You'll pay for this more than you know, Barbossa," the man swore fiercely. "Only I know where the last piece is."

Barbossa smiled coldly. "We'll find it eventually, Bill," he said, leaning over the man. "Oh, and don't worry 'bout yer lil' family back home, mate. I'll be sure to tell 'em how brave their husband an' daddy was…'fore I kill 'em!" With that, he signaled for Bo'sun to shove the cannon over the side. Looking over the rail in satisfaction, Barbossa watched as William Turner disappeared into the inky black depths of the sea, ne'er to be seen again…

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Barbossa opened his eyes and slowly stood up. Glancing out the window, he saw that they'd finally reached Isla de Muerta. He drew a deep breath of anticipation. Now it was really going to be over. Something that almost resembled emotion crossed his face as he thought of what it meant, only to be promptly erased and replaced with a look of steely determination. Picking an apple from the bowl on his desk and placing it in his pocket, Barbossa paused as a silver tray on the counter caught his reflection. A man, heartless and hardened by years of mistrust and suffering, glared back at him with weary eyes. This was the face that so many had learned to fear…the face that had been the last sight of many an honest man before he met his untimely demise. Captain Hector Barbossa. No, he corrected himself. Hector's been dead for years. Turning abruptly away from the reflection, Barbossa strapped on his weapons and strode out of the cabin. Time to go.

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Followed by Bo'sun and Koehler, Barbossa headed for the brig. As he neared the doorway, he overheard Pintel and Ragetti talking to the prisoners. Holding up a hand to stop the men from entering, he muttered, "I want to hear this."

"…As you can imagine, that didn' sit too well wit' the captain," he heard Pintel say.

"Didn't sit too well wit' the cap'n a'tall," Ragetti agreed. "Tell 'im what Barbossa did."

"I'm tellin' the story!…So, what the cap'n did… 'e strapped a cannon t' Bootstrap's bootstraps-"

"Bootstrap's bootstraps…"

"-an' the last we saw of ol' Bill Turner, 'e was sinkin' to the crushin' black oblivion of Davey Jones' Locker…'Course, it was only after that we learned we needed 'is blood to lift the curse."

"Now tha's what ye call ironic." The two men laughed until they realized Barbossa had strode into the room.

Scowling, he threw the keys at Ragetti. "Bring 'im."

Disclaimer: Again, borrowed a bit from the original script (there's some really brilliant stuff in there). Everything Bootstrap reads off of the Aztec codex -except for the description of the curse (added by yours truly)- is from the first draft of Barbossa's speech during the dinner with Elizabeth (though minorly altered in wording here and there). In the original script, he pulls it out and begins reading it to her to explain the curse. I just changed the setting to Bootstrap telling Barbossa.