What a ship is... what the Black Pearl really is... is freedom.

"Freedom my arse," Elizabeth grumbled as the burliest men of Wickedry's crew escorted her to meet the captain. To be fair, they didn't so much escort her as they did bodily lift her off the ground by her arms and drag her along. She supposed she should have been afraid, but all she could manage to muster at the moment was anger. No, she wasn't really angry... she was offended. This was the second bloody time in three months!

"What?" Poor Will continued trying to gain his feet, earning himself several cuffs upside the head.

"Something Jack said."

"Jack... Sparrow?" This new voice rang low and calm, drifting over her ears and settling somewhere in the back of her mind.

Elizabeth closed her mouth as the red-clad man strolled towards them. He didn't look mean, with sun-sweetened dark hair and a pair of fairly pleasant gray eyes. He circled them with his hands clasped behind his back, boots scuffing along the worn deck planking. "An old friend named Jack, Mr..."

"Captain. Ye may call me Captain Gerrarrd." Elizabeth's heart dropped down to her knees. From what Corwin and her father had been saying of Gerrarrd before her capture, he may well have been on par with Barbossa. At least with Barbossa she'd had the lure of the medallion, the blood in her veins - and Jack Sparrow tailing her. "It's quite all right, Miss Swann; every pirate in the Caribbean knows of Jack Sparrow's... heroic exploits... in saving ye and yer blacksmith - nay, pirate's son, isn't it? Is this him?"

Will glowered at him, and the captain tisked. "Respect your elders, son." With that, he backhanded Will so hard his head spun around, and Elizabeth could see blood fly as his teeth connected with his tongue. Elizabeth tried to yank free, but the two men on either side of her were far too powerful. "Ah, feisty lass, is it? No worries, Mr. Turner; I knew your father."

"Who didn't," Will whispered.

"Bootstrap. Old friend of mine. 'Till he went respectable, that is. Took on that lad Jack Sparrow for awhile, too. I 'spect that's why Jack helped ye at all, y'see. Bootstrap brought him up to be a nice young man. Heinous." Gerrarrd spat on the deck, and Elizabeth politely adverted her eyes. Jack would never allow someone to spit while aboard. It was disrespectful to the ship, after all. "I s'ppose ye want to know what's to be done with ye."

"The thought had crossed my mind," she said in as demure a voice she could manage. If Gerrarrd followed typical code, he would menace her a bit, make a few pointed threats - and then ransom her for a number that would make her father grit his teeth, but pay up. If Gerrarrd graduated from the Barbossa School of Piracy, though...

He patted her head. "I must admit, I did not expect a governor's daughter to be so comely. I was inclined to ransom you for an exorbitant amount... but now..." He slipped his hand along her cheek to better cup her chin, and Elizabeth swallowed her revulsion. Up close, she could see a nasty scar slicing down his partially-exposed chest, and his hands smelled of blood and gunpowder. "...perhaps I should keep you a bit, and see what there is to you, hmm?"

Will - utilizing strength she did not know he had - ripped free of his captors and lunged for Gerrarrd, hands outstretched. The pirate captain was caught off-guard for the slightest second, and cut loose with a bellow as they both went sailing into the bulkhead. Will promptly began pounding him with both fists, and Elizabeth could do nothing but bury her face in her hands as two more of Gerrarrd's floozies leaped in to pry him off. Oh, brave Will! Why do you have to be so... stupid?

Stupid? Will wasn't stupid. Will had gone to hell and back to rescue her. Will had just done an incredibly brave, sweet thing, standing up for the honor of a girl he had only properly kissed once...

Like I said. Stupid.

"Hittin' the captain's a hangin' offense, laddie," one of the floozies said as he slammed Will up against the wall. Elizabeth peered around him. Yes, Will's feet did dangle. Strong pirate.

Gerrarrd laughed, wiped at his bleeding nose. "Nay, nay, I like this lad, I do. Take him below, clap him in irons, but... there may yet be potential..." The floozies dragged a struggling Will away, and Gerrarrd turned his attention back to Elizabeth. "Yer quite still, pretty lassie."

She smiled. What was she supposed to say? Sorry, I've been captured by pirates before and the best thing to do is just sit here until you kill each other probably wouldn't sit well. Sorry, the pirates I was kidnapped by before were disintegrating corpses and you're just not terribly impressive wouldn't work either. Perhaps it would be best to simply get to the point. "Are you going to kill me, maim me, or otherwise use me as a sacrifice?"

Gerrarrd guided her into his cabin, laughing heartily. "Ah, yer experience with Barbossa has taught you something, hasn't it, love? Word's gone up and down the islands as to yer adventures wi'him, of that I assure ye... no, I won't be killin' ye, so long as ye keep me interest up. And unlike Barbossa... I can feel everything." He nudged her into his cabin, glancing back over his shoulder. "We make port t'night in Rudder's Bay. Make y'self comfortable till then, and ye might want to store up yer energy... ye never know what goes on in Rudder Bay."

The door shut, and she heard the turn of a key in the lock. Bloody pirate! She immediately began riffling through the captain's belongings, passing over the small table, feeling underneath the feather mattress, prying open drawers and anything else she could get her hands on. Nothing that opened yielded anything she could use as a tool or weapon - not even a bloody butter knife. Gerrarrd had been quite thorough in preparing for his prisoner.

Quite thorough... by way of experience?

She sat on the bed and noted how soft it was, and her discomfort grew. He's kept other women here before. Hostages, in relative comfort, using them until he tires of them. Her light summer dress did nothing to drive away the sudden chill, and she rubbed her hands over her upper arms. How many women have lain here... died here?

She had called Jack Sparrow despicable, once upon a time. That had been before she met Barbossa, before she met Gerrarrd, before she had been exposed to the true face of piracy. Jack Sparrow was a bloody gentleman when compared to the two, and good-hearted at that. Jack Sparrow would find a way out of here without question. Jack Sparrow...

Jack Sparrow had fired on her ship.

"Once a pirate, always a pirate."

And her father, still aboard the wounded Relentless... Papa and Corwin, turned on by the very man they had thought they could trust. The only trustworthy pirate, her father had told her at supper once, and then, only by default. No. There were no trustworthy pirates, despite her father's fondness for Sparrow. There were only those who did not always rape and pillage and murder - they just plundered. They took what they wished, and to hell with anything else.

They cannot take by force what is given freely.

"Damn you, Jack Sparrow," she growled, curling up on the bed. "Damn you to hell."

Will touched his chin gingerly, then lowered his hands with a disgusted sigh. He'd have a very attractive bruise right about there come morning, and if he'd been back at home, still working at the forge, he would have made up some outlandish story to tell Elizabeth to explain its origins. Most of the bruises he'd gotten from the old donkey he had explained away as heathens trying to steal his earnings. Then there had been the burn disguised as saving a damsel (attempting to make her jealous had backfired most heinously, as she had attempted to find the rogue accosting said damsel and send him to the noose) and then the nice little cut that had been attributed to a pirate.

Oddly enough, a real pirate had turned up just afterwards.

"I hate pirates," he said conversationally to the pisspot in the corner. "They should all be hanged."

"You'd hang yer own papa?"

Will settled his glare on Captain Gerrarrd, who leaned against the cage with languid cheeriness. "If it helps to clean out the stench that wafts over the ocean, why not?"

The captain chewed on a quid of tobacco. "Interestin' words from the boy that commandeered a royal ship."

Will sighed, the fight ebbing out of him. "Does everyone know about that?"

"Mostly. Word spreads fast 'mongst our own, ye know. Sailors do love their talk... and it moves, from island to island, twistin' and turnin'. Why, some folks on the outside'll be thinkin' ye took over the entire British Navy by the time th'story reaches 'em, an' ye an' Jack Sparrow will be welcome heroes." A flash of white teeth. "Or villains. Depen' on who ya get, ye understand."

Will decided to ignore him. He focused instead on the pisspot and its queerly graceful lines; odd, that one could find craftsmanship in a pot meant for... well, piss.

"Doncha even wanna know 'bout yer wench?"

"She's not my wench," he said witheringly.

"Aye, yer lady-friend is up in my cabin, awaiting me touch. How'd ye like to wager she never dreamed she'd get a pirate as her first? 'Less ye two've already... been at the sports?" Gerrarrd peered at him anxiously, but Will continued to study the pisspot and compare its beauty to the greatest architectural elements he'd seen in his twenty years. "Not one fer talkin', are ye boy? Ye got a strong heart, I'll give ye that. Might make a decent pirate one day."

"Sparrow said that," he muttered before he could help himself.

"Bah! Sparrow's the nuttiest nut this side o'the Atlantic, somethin' be wrong with that boy, of that I assure you. But 'e had a good eye for friends... if not enemies. Truth is, most folks that get te be friends wi'ium end up dyin' for 'im. Can't rightly say why. 'E must have dreadful bad luck. Though, perhaps 'tweren't bad luck so much s'twere strange luck, into trouble an' out again, wi' all his baubles and beads..." Gerrarrd went on like this for quite some time, pacing back and forth in front of the cell. Will at last gave up his contemplation of the pisspot and settled for staring at the captain as he continued his soliloquy, and abruptly decided that all pirates were a little bit mad.

"...n'smuch that we don't know quite what to... aye, yer still here?" Gerrarrd shook his head. "I get away from meself, time to time. What was I sayin'?"

He decided it was worth trying to pull a Sparrow. "You were about to let me go."

Gerrarrd smiled warmly at him. "No."

He shrugged. "Worth a try."

"Ye might make a good pirate, lad... iffin' ye know when te draw yer lines. We make port t'night, an' I'll have the lads fetch ye food. When I finish up wi' yer pretty governor's daughter, I'll have 'er sent down to ye. Think o'er as... a complimentary dessert, aye?"

The captain headed off, and Will was left with his own thoughts. If the man gave him Elizabeth... if... she might be able to pocket something from his quarters. She might have ideas. If they put their heads together, surely they could escape this dingy cell. Surely...

If the man gave him Elizabeth, it would be after he had his way with her. She would be in no condition to plan an escape.

Port tonight. They would dock tonight, then - or drop anchor. He had until then to think up a clever way to get out of this cell and fetch Elizabeth, and then get the two of them safely away.

In the middle of the ocean.

Yes.

Futility. A fine companion for the evening.

He eyed the pisspot.