Whee, next chappie. This is an exciting one, so be sure you've got a change of underwear handy.
Chapter Four – On Undergarments and Brotherly Love
Elizabeth's eyes darted in disbelief between the astonished face of her fiancé and the growing blob that was the Black Pearl.
"Are you sure?"
"It's definitely her."
"But that means . . . Jack—"
"I know. Let's just hope he isn't planning on looting this ship. We'll have to fight him, unless he stops when he realizes it's us." Will looked through the glass again. "Why is he flying the Union Jack?"
"Honestly Will, don't you know anything about pirates? They fly a friendly flag to get close to their victims, and then . . . they attack . . ." she trailed off, realizing Jack's intentions with chilling certainty. She supposed he couldn't be blamed. After all, it was a magnificent ship they were on, and he was a pirate. His sole purpose in life was to find treasure and spend it. And although there was absolutely nothing admirable about that as far as Elizabeth was concerned, he probably didn't have a choice in the matter. In fact, she'd always wondered about why he had become a pirate in the first place.
Suddenly, her thoughts were cut off by a string of curses. Turning around, she saw the source of the noise. A scrawny man who looked too small for his clothes was speaking in confused, panicked French to his apparent partner, a tall sailor with hair that seemed as though it couldn't decide whether to be red or blonde. The tall one she recognized as Sebastien Moreau, the first mate. He was trying to shush his friend, who was now flailing his arms in the air.
Only one thing to do – investigate. She left Will giving orders to the crew, and crept around behind the pair of sailors. Carefully, she hid herself behind three barrels stacked on top of one another like a pyramid, which was slightly too close to the first mate and his friend for comfort. She was not fluent in French, but she knew enough to understand a basic conversation. She hoped it was enough. Her curiosity had been piqued, and when Elizabeth's inquisitive nature got hold of her, it didn't let go until it was satisfied.
"You are out of your mind! This cannot work, and it is not worth the risk—"
"There is no risk too dangerous for this purpose!"
"But Captain—"
"Captain?" Elizabeth thought, getting more and more uneasy.
"How many thousands of times have I told you, Michel? It is for honor. My honor. Your honor depends upon my honor, so you will serve me as faithfully as you are able, tu comprends?" He was evidently accustomed to expressing superiority freely. And the way he spoke was too refined to be an ordinary pirate's dialect.
The smaller man looked nervously at his captain.
"Oui, je sais, je sais," he blurted hastily, as if pausing another second would mean certain death.
"Now go and give the order."
"As you wish, mon capitaine." He trudged off in his oversized boots toward the thronging mass of sailors.
Elizabeth was shaking, and hadn't realized how difficult it had been to breathe for the past few minutes. Of course! She was wearing one of those damned corsets again. She was only putting herself through this torture because she'd overheard the maids gossiping animatedly about how unladylike she was. She wished she hadn't let them get to her. Well, no time for losing control now. Will had to know about this. She moved to get up, leaning on the wooden wall beside her for support. It squeaked loudly and unexpectedly, drawing Sebastien Moreau's attention to the exact spot in which she was struggling to her feet.
"Ah, bonjour, Madame! Have you had a pleasant morning? I sincerely hope," he pulled out a very sharp dagger and held it against Elizabeth's neck, "that I have not caused you inconvenience." His voice was now a dangerous whisper.
Darkness was closing in from all sides, and Elizabeth suddenly felt very cold. "What a wonderful time you've picked to faint, Lizzie," she thought, trying to suppress the fear and shock causing her sudden inability to breathe. Sebastien, however, recognized that she was about to lose consciousness and smiled to himself.
"My dear lady," he said, catching her in mid-fall, "such garments are not practical on a ship."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Captain!" Gibbs puffed, trotting quickly towards Jack.
"Aye?"
"We can't attack that ship."
"Why not?" He looked at Gibbs as if he were a madman.
Gibbs shifted uneasily, "Well, it's already being attacked." He gave Jack a cautious glance and looked back at the Saviour. "Jack, there be no other ships in these waters 'cept the Pearl." His voice was hushed and serious.
Jack pulled out a scratched and dented telescope, and surveyed the rapidly progressing battle on the ship they'd been following. He closed it quickly and put it away.
A puzzled expression appeared on his face. "Looks a bit like a mutiny to me."
Gibbs looked up warily. "What be yer course of action, cap'n?"
The sly grin he always wore returned to Jack's expression.
"No sense wasting good treasure, eh?" He strode back to the helm and adjusted the wheel slightly to head for the Saviour.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sebastien, or Captain Moreau as he was about to become, stood outside the door of the captain's quarters, fingering the only key that fit its gilded lock. Surely Madame Turner would be comfortable there, for the time being. Certainly, she was a pretty young thing. The gormless idiot she'd married didn't deserve such a prize. And obviously she came from a wealthy family. If Sebastien decided he didn't want to keep her for himself, she'd probably fetch a nice ransom.
"Sebastien!" The maid he had been trying to seduce earlier was standing in front of him, looking confused and scared as the melee on deck unfolded behind her.
"Did I not say I would return for you, ma belle fleur?" He brought his dagger across her throat quicker than she could blink and let her fall, blood spraying the door. Sebastien wiped his dagger on the maid's dress and put it back in his belt, smiling with satisfaction. After assessing the probability that she'd be carrying anything of value on her person, he left the body and made for the quarterdeck.
By now, every sailor on the ship loyal to His Majesty had either been disposed of or captured. Even Will was struggling against two inordinately large and bulky pirates, whose bone-crushing grip was, to say the least, difficult to break. He had seen that bastard Moreau lock Elizabeth in the captain's quarters, and she had been the only thing on his mind ever since. This was making him crazy. His only wish in the world at that moment was to kill the two numbskulls holding him back and go for Moreau's throat. But no matter how many times he gathered his strength and tried to throw his captors off, his efforts were to no avail. Anger boiled up inside him, scorching every fiber of his being and searing the mercy out of his soul.
"Faire attention, mes frères!" The new captain addressed his faithful crew from the front of the quarterdeck. "We have done well, friends! The Saviour is ours! Throw the bodies overboard and do what you will with the women." The terrified whimpers of several maids wrenched at Will's heart.
"Ah, and what is it that we have here, mes frères?" He descended to the deck and advanced towards Will, the rest of the crew forming a circle around them.
"You are Monsieur Turner, n'est-ce pas?"
"That is no business of yours," snarled Will, all the untapped fury of years of repression surfacing in his voice. Moreau laughed.
"My friends, let us show Monsieur Turner some courtesy!" The circle of pirates drew blades and pistols in unison, malicious grins passing over their grubby, toothless faces.
"I beg your pardon, mate," grinned Jack, who was standing nonchalantly on the side of the ship, holding onto some rigging, "but you seem to be making a terrible mistake."
Moreau stared in astonished silence at this new arrival and the pitch-black ship floating behind him. While he and his crew had been taking over the Saviour, they hadn't even noticed the Pearl slide noiselessly closer. And wasn't that . . .
"Jack Sparrow! Old friend! How many years has it been?" silent glee danced in Moreau's eyes as he unsheathed his sword. This was more than perfect.
"Did you miss me, darling?" Jack's grin widened as he drew his sword.
