Disclaimer: We are short-stocked on power… no copyrights!
A/N: Kudos to my Dad, who, while seeing the movie, pointed out the pure stupidity of Jack's orders. Thanks Dad! I put your reaction into the story, just for you. Sugar cookies to those who can find the final reference to the Ace of Diamonds (if you're confused about what I mean, go back a few chapters and look at Squirrel's examples). Also, references to Hamlet and Dante's Inferno - a barrel of rum for people who spot those.
It was hard to tell who was more surprised - the fish-man with the knife in his ribs; Squirrel, the one holding the knife; or Jack, under whose arm she was crouching.
"I thought I told you to stay with the boat," he swung the oar as Squirrel withdrew - the fish-man fell into the sea and didn't rise again.
Squirrel looked up at Jack, grabbing hold of his arm. "We have to go. Now." She looked up the beach again. Norrington was tucking the letters down the front of his vest - his movements were quick and guilty, like a thief. He checked his treasure was secure, then picked up his sword and plunged into the melee, running to aid Elizabeth. Without waiting for Jack's reply, Squirrel turned and ran up the beach, back to the longboat, sheathing her dagger and readying her shanghai and final stone. The water splashed crystalline around her legs as she kicked up the sea. Jack followed behind her, close and keeping pace.
At the beach ahead, Will, Pintel, and Ragetti had reached the longboat. Pintel and Ragetti had picked up the other oar and a net, and fought Davy Jones's crew like unlikely Roman gladiators. Will, however, was standing over the longboat, the chest in his hands.
He was staring at the key in the lock, something close to comprehension in his eyes.
Jack swung the oar, and Will barely had time to look around at his attacker. With a heavy thunk, the oar connected with Will's head, rendering him unconscious and knocking him into the boat.
"Jack!" Squirrel pulled up short, shocked. Jack just shrugged.
"Will!" Elizabeth ran to Will's side.
"Leave him lie," Jack said, brandishing the oar like a club at the approaching pirates. "Unless you're planning to use him to hit something with."
Davy Jones' crewmen had them surrounded; Jack and his crew had been herded around the longboat, but there was no escape. Squirrel drew back the straps of the shanghai - one shot would not be enough. And there was no way they'd be able to get the boat out into the water in time. Not like this.
"We're not getting out of this," Elizabeth panted, sword still raised.
"Not with the chest," Norrington stated. "Into the boat." He grabbed the chest out of the longboat and held it tight under one arm.
"You're mad," Elizabeth stared.
"Don't wait for me," Norrington said stoically. His eyes met Squirrel's - she was open-mouthed with alarm and awe - before he turned and ran, fighting left-handed and leading the crewmen away.
You fool! Squirrel thought, terrified for him. You bloody fool! The heart's not in there! You'll die for nothing! You fool! You… you…
"I-I-I say we respect his final wish," Jack suggested.
"Aye!" Pintel agreed. The group all started fumbling with their weapons, trying to get seated and away.
Squirrel watched up the beach, disbelieving. Maybe I was wrong about you, James Norrington, she thought. Maybe… you are still honourable. Maybe… maybe you are a hero.
"You coming, luv?" Jack called.
Squirrel raised her shanghai to eye-level, squinted, and fired. Snift. The smooth white stone zipped through the air. Further up the beach, the shark-man howled, clapping a hand to his buttocks.
That, Squirrel thought with a mischievous grin, Was for threatening me before.
The shark-pirate did not stop or turn back - he continued on, chasing after Norrington. Squirrel felt her heart quicken in fear. She climbed in the boat with the others, but her eyes were on the figure in a muddy blue coat, shrinking into the distance.
"Will," Elizabeth was shaking the unconscious man gently. "Will, are you alright?" She was looking at her husband-to-be with such undisguised concern. She really loves Will…
Squirrel bit her lip, looking sidelong at Jack. He was clutching his jar of dirt again, a small smile playing about his lips. Nothing else mattered to him, except that he had the heart. He was getting out of this scot-free.
Squirrel looked back at the beach. "This isn't right. W-w can't just leave Norrington."
"'E chose it," Pintel huffed, pulling his oar through the water. "'E's the one who went back in order for us to get out of 'ere!"
"An' God rest 'is soul!" Ragetti added, pulling at his oar. Unsurprisingly, the two pirates' rowing was out of sync, but neither of them commented on it. They - like everyone else - just wanted to put distance between them and Davy Jones' crew.
Squirrel looked shorewards once more, as the island shrank away behind her. Something nagged at her, like before, when she was searching for the heart. She was missing something, she was forgetting something. This time, though, it had nothing to do with cards or dice. It was something far more mundane. Squirrel furrowed her brow, trying to think what she could have possibly missed…
Like a game in a tavern, she looked at each play that had unfolded, remembering back all that had transpired. She went through each step, every minute she'd set foot on that island, trying to think, trying to remember what was lost.
The love letters in the chest. Three swords crossed. There was something in that - Norrington's sword? Something about Norrington's sword? She continued: The flight through the trees. A flying axe. The chest dropped. The battle with the cursed crewmen. Jack, opening the chest - the heart of Davy Jones.
There was definitely something about that that was important.
Frowning, Squirrel delved deeper. Running with Jack, holding his hand. The jar of dirt…
Squirrel looked over at Jack, and her eye caught sight of the lid of the jar he held. Surely, Jack had tied it differently. Jack had tied the lid with a reef knot, and now it was a mere bootlace knot. It wasn't like that before… was it? Perhaps she was just distracted by the fish-man grabbing her ankle; surely it was just the same as before. Focusing her eyes on the knot, Squirrel thought harder, the nagging feeling getting stronger and more insistent.
Shooting stones down the beach. Water at her ankles. Dropping a stone. Norrington taking the letters of marque. Running to Jack. Running back to the longboat. Norrington going off to fight. Will getting beaten over the head…
Squirrel's mouth went dry. You won't get back your honour… Norrington had put the letters in his belt. Squirrel had run away, and then ran back. When she came back to the boat, Norrington was putting something in his shirt. Just as Jack had when taking it from the chest.
"Jack!" Squirrel sat up, eyes wide.
Jack looked over, lazily. "Yes, luv?"
"We have to go back!"
Jack stood up, the jar under one arm. He grinned, his gold teeth charming once more. "Go back? Luv, we just got here!"
Squirrel looked over her shoulder. They were at the Pearl already. Hands were pulling the unconscious Will Turner up on deck; Pintel and Ragetti were tying up the longboat, ready to heave it to and tie it tight; Elizabeth was up on deck, watching and helping bring Will aboard. Jack climbed up the ladder, pausing only to give Squirrel one last grin.
"Jack," Squirrel leapt up after him, "You don't understand. We have to…"
Pintel's sudden shout cut her off. "You're pullin' too hard!"
"You ain't pullin' hard enough!" Ragetti snapped back.
Squirrel ducked around the bickering pirates, trying to be heard. "Jack!"
Gibbs appeared beside the swaggering captain. "Where's the commodore?" He asked.
Jack clutched his jar of dirt tighter. "Fell behind."
Gibbs paused, head bowed. "My prayers be with him." He brightened. "Well, best not wallow in our grief…"
"Jack!"
Gibbs smiled at Squirrel. "You left this in my care, lass." He held out Squirrel's cloak for her to take.
"Thankyou," Squirrel accepted it, distracted. She swung it around her shoulders, tying it tight, but continued to try to get Jack's attention. "Captain, we have to go back. It's important! Really important!"
Jack twirled on his feet, his eyes pained. "Luv, there comes a time when one is forced to make difficult decisions." Squirrel was stopped by the seriousness in Jack's eyes. He continued, "It comes to this, luv. It's either me… or the commodore. And face facts, m'dear," he grinned, "You can't have us both." He wagged his eyebrows at her.
Squirrel flushed red. "That's not what this is about, captain!" He turned away, climbing up to the helm; Squirrel climbed up after him. "He took the letters of marque!"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Did he now?" Jack checked his coat pockets, then frowned. "That sod."
"But the letters are useless," Squirrel prompted, "Beckett wants something in return, remember?"
Jack looked at Squirrel curiously. "The compass?"
Squirrel pulled it from her belt and held it out. "No, I have that. I'm talking about…"
Jack handed the jar of dirt to Squirrel, took the compass, tied it to his belt, and then took the jar of dirt back. "Well done, luv," he said, smiling at her for her ingenuity. "Thought I forgot it back there for a minute."
Squirrel felt like tearing out her hair. "Jack, will you please listen to me! This is important!"
Gibbs came up alongside Jack, not seeing the agonised expression on Squirrel's face. "Shame about the commodore," Gibbs grinned, slapping Jack on the shoulder, "But the bright side is: you got off free and clear."
Squirrel couldn't speak - she was paralysed by fear.
Jack saw the look on her face. "What is it, luv?"
The Flying Dutchman thundered from beneath the waves, a behemoth bursting from the deep. Squirrel clung to Jack's arm, seeking some manner of comfort. The Flying Dutchman drew alongside the Pearl, the ships' hulls just feet from each other. Squirrel gasped as she caught sight of the cursed ship's captain; there was no mistaking the murder in Davy Jones' eyes.
"No…" Squirrel breathed, wide eyed and trembling.
"Lord Almighty," Gibbs crossed himself, "Deliver us."
Jack moved, leaving Squirrel behind and alone. He pushed Gibbs aside, saying as he passed, "I'll handle this, mate." He lifted the jar of dirt in both hands and whistled, attracting Davy Jones' attention. "Oi, fish-face!"
"Jack, don't!" Squirrel tried to stop him.
"Lose somethin', did ye?" So full of pride, Jack lost his footing and tumbled, falling down the stairs and landing with a thud. The crew let out a collective 'ooh', wincing in sympathy. But Jack seemed fine. He held up the jar of dirt triumphantly. "Got it!" He stood up too, laughing over the ship's railing at Davy Jones. "Come to negotiate have you, you slimy git?"
"Jack!" Squirrel hissed, motioning frantically. "No! Don't!"
"Look what I got!" Jack shook the jar at Davy Jones as he sashayed across the deck. He crowed, sing-song, "I gotta jar of dir-irt! I gotta jar of dir-irt! And guess what's inside it!"
Davy Jones was clearly unimpressed. He turned and barked an order to his crew. Shudders went down Squirrel's spine - the reason for this fear became very apparent when eight carved mouths along the side of the Dutchman yawned open, and eight cannon muzzles pushed through, aimed point blank at the Pearl.
Jack finally seemed to realise the folly of what he was doing. "H'rd'to'st'bard," he whimpered.
"HARD TO STARBOARD!" Elizabeth screamed.
"Brace the foreyard!" Will shouted after her.
The crew, their very lives at stake, scrambled to obey. Everyone aboard burst into frenzied motion. But Squirrel stood, rooted to the spot, staring over at the deck of the Dutchman. Davy Jones stared her down, his eyes fierce and unrelenting. Somehow, though he didn't speak, his voice - the voice she'd heard from her dream - came coldly and cleanly to her, like a knife thrust. You again. She heard the lullaby in her head again, but this time it wasn't sweet or sad or delicate. It thundered at her, powerful and menacing, like an approaching sea monster. Squirrel pulled her cloak around her shoulders, trembling.
Gibbs frantically turned the wheel, and the Pearl peeled away from the Dutchman. Squirrel lost sight of the ship's fearsome captain, and her wits slowly returned to her. This is folly! She stared about her as the crew scrambled in the canvas and the rigging. Turning tail? Exposing the stern broadside to a rack of cannons? We'll be torn apart!
The cannons barked like the hounds of hell, and the Pearl bucked and groaned as cannonballs tore at her hull, but she held firm and sailed hard and fast.
Everyone was shouting in panic. Squirrel looked back out to sea. The Dutchman was wheeling, it's dragon-skeleton of a figurehead snarling at her in a mocking leer.
"She's on us!" Ragetti's voice yelped from on deck. "She's on us!"
From behind the figurehead, two more carved mouths yawned open. Squirrel's eyes widened with despair. Fore-guns? They have fore-guns? She barely had time to shout a warning before more cannonballs pelted the ship. By some God-sent blessing, none of the cannonballs hit the rudder. But the stern of the Pearl was all agape, the wood tattered and torn. Squirrel screamed as the lantern above her head exploded in shards of glass and metal. She fell to the deck, unharmed but shaken. She got to her feet quickly, keeping her head down.
Jack appeared, the jar of dirt cradled in one hand. He pushed Gibbs aside, taking command of the helm. He looked to the sails, adjusting the Pearl's direction by a mere fraction. Voices on deck bellowed and shouted and prayed with words Squirrel couldn't catch. She, like Jack, looked to the black sails of the Pearl. The canvas billowed, and slowly, slowly, the Dutchman was left behind. She was out of range. And she couldn't catch up.
"On deck, luv," Jack ordered softly. Squirrel jumped to it, her nerves electric with fear.
"She's falling behind!" Elizabeth cried, looking back over the port side. Squirrel couldn't help but join her at the railing, and was surprised at how far behind the Dutchman had fallen. The Black Pearl really is the fastest ship in the Caribbean, Squirrel beamed, though her heart was a frightened animal in her chest.
"We're the faster?" Will asked Gibbs, gladly incredulous.
"Against the wind," Gibbs said, "The Dutchman beats us. That's how she takes her prey. But with the wind…"
"We have the advantage." Will looked to the sea, a smile on his lips.
Gibbs grinned. "Aye."
Will caught Squirrel's eye and smiled encouragingly. Squirrel smiled back, then leapt up into the ratlines and looked out over the water. In the distance, the Dutchman's sails slowly furled, curling inwards like a shrinking anemone's fronds. Squirrel frowned. They're not chasing us anymore? Why? A minute ago they wanted to tear us apart. Why stop now?
"They're givin' up!" Marty called, and the crewman aboard all cheered. Pintel and Ragetti even broke into a jig.
Squirrel swung down from the rigging, frowning, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Something's not right. Not right at all. It's not over yet. Foreboding pushed aside, Squirrel ran to Jack.
"Jack! There's something…!"
Will was at Jack's side, his eyes dark. "My father," he said, his voice low, "Is on that ship. If we can outrun her, we can take her. We should turn and fight!"
Jack looked like a cat with the cream. "Why fight when you can negotiate?" He asked, setting the jar of dirt on the railing and drumming his fingers on the lid.
"Jack!" Squirrel shouted. "We can't!" She nearly sobbed when she saw she finally had Jack's attention. "Davy Jones isn't you! He'd rather kill us all! He's not going to show us any mercy!"
Jack smiled, cocky and self-assured. "Anything's possible, luv. All you need is the proper leverage." Will did not look impressed at the term, though he looked to Squirrel, curious about her outburst of emotion. Squirrel grit her teeth and forced out the words.
"You don't have…!"
The entire ship bucked, rocked, shuddered to a sudden standstill. Squirrel cried out as she lost her footing, falling down the stairs. There was the sound of shattering glass, and Squirrel looked up to see dark coloured sand strewn across the deck below her. Jack leapt over her, and scrambled around in the dirt on his knees; Will went to Squirrel's side and helped her to her feet. As soon as she was upright, Squirrel ran to Jack, and stood before him.
"Where is it?" Jack asked, frantically, brushing away the dirt and looking all around, "Where's the thump-thump?"
"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Squirrel said, standing over him, her voice a choked shout. "It's gone!"
Jack looked up at her, and Squirrel felt her heart break. In Jack's eyes was such pain, a hope shattered into more pieces than the jar of dirt he'd so treasured. He looked at her, pleading: Say it isn't so. Please. Don't tell me I'm going to die.
Squirrel forced herself to say the words, but they only came out in a dry whisper. "He took it." She felt tears well in her eyes as Jack stared down at the dirt, all life seeming to drain out of him. All hope abandon, ye who enter here…
"It's not a reef!" Will's shout made Squirrel turn away from the heart-wrenching figure of Jack. Will was pulling Elizabeth into the heart of the deck, taking her safe into his arms. "Get away from the rails!"
"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, alarmed.
Will took a steadying breath; what fear he showed was quickly smothered by bravery. "The Kraken."
Squirrel's hand flew to her mouth, smothering a scream. No… No, no, no… The sound of the heartbeat - not her own heart this time - thundered in her ears. And each beat seemed to laugh at her: You're dead. You're dead. You're dead.
"To arms!" Will shouted.
"Load guns!" Gibbs bellowed. "Defend the mast!"
"It'll attack to starboard," Will shouted over the scrambling and shouts of the hundred-man crew, "I've seen it before. Roll out the cannons and hold for my signal!"
The crew scrambled to obey. Men ran below to prime the cannons, to raid the armoury. On deck, men armed themselves with spear and harpoon.
Squirrel leapt across the deck to Will and grabbed hold of his sleeve. "Will," she asked, unable to mask the fear in her eyes, "Are we going to die?"
Will looked at Squirrel, long and hard. That gaze of his was solid, sturdy, unyielding. He was afraid, true. But he was not going to run like a coward.
"No," he said firmly. "We're going to fight." And he left her standing there, alone on the deck.
But Squirrel didn't feel alone. Her heart slowed - she wasn't afraid anymore. Squirrel smiled, strengthened in resolve by his words and his eyes.
Someone tapped her on the arm. Squirrel looked down - Marty held out a pistol for her.
"'Ere, Miss," he said, "Take it."
Squirrel frowned, shaking her head. "But I don't know how to use one. I've never used one before."
Marty clicked back the flint, then handed the pistol to Squirrel, handle first. "Just 'old on and pull the trigger, Miss. 'S not that 'ard."
Squirrel gingerly took the weapon from Marty. "Thankyou," she murmured. The pirate nodded, then went off to stand on deck, readying two pistols of his own.
The gun was heavy. She couldn't hold it in one hand, not with her strength. But with both hands… Squirrel levelled the gun at the sea, staring along the length of the barrel. It's just like my shanghai, Squirrel realised, Just a good deal more dangerous. I only have one shot. I can't miss, she thought, determined.
The Pearl shuddered. Through the soles of her shoes, through the timbers of the ship, Squirrel felt something creeping up, probing, touching, caressing, reaching…
The Kraken was here.
"Easy, boys!" Will shouted.
Squirrel readied her gun, closing her eyes to steady her nerves. But when she opened them again, she almost dropped the gun in surprise. No! Impossible! Squirrel stared, helpless and hypnotised in the presence of the rising tentacles. Tentacles which rose alongside the ship like huge, frightening snakes. It was just a dream! I dreamed this! It was just a nightmare from my childhood. It's not real! It's not real!
"Will?"
But it is real, a cold voice told her. This is real, and will kill you if you let it.
"Hold! Hold!"
"Will?"
The snakes in my dream were striped, Squirrel told herself. These aren't!
"Hold!"
Stripes or not, the inner voice was edged with steel, You'll still die if you do nothing.
I killed them! They're supposed to be dead!
"WILL!"
So kill them again!
"FIRE!"
Squirrel screamed, defiant and terrified, and pulled the trigger. The tentacle before her shuddered and twitched, a gaping hole torn across its surface. The recoil of the gun made it fly from Squirrel's hands to skitter across the deck. All around her, the sound of cannon fire was deafening. Squirrel put her hands to her ears and screamed. But she was unable to take her eyes from the twisting and turning of the snakes around her.
Dead! Dead for a ducat, dead!
The tentacle fell like a broken tree, crashing beside her. Squirrel screamed and jumped aside - the tentacle slid away, leaving behind it a trail of blood and slime and broken wood. The sight of the trail it left behind was so eerily similar to the dream that Squirrel felt her fears return.
It was just a dream! It means nothing!
There are no coincidences, the cold steely voice told her. Everything you know - everything you are - was made for a purpose. Are you going to let that purpose slip from you? Are you going to die useless?
That hated word galvanised her. I'm not useless! Squirrel turned on the spot, crossing the blood-smeared deck with sure steps, her cloak billowing out behind her. "Will!" She shouted, searching for him.
He rose from below, his eyes seeking hers. "What is it, Miss Grey?"
"It's a squid!" Squirrel said, moving to his side and walking with him. "A really big squid. We're not going to kill it by shooting off its arms." Like the squid on the mop, the one that squirted me with ink. We need to crush it; we need to cut off the head in order to make it let go.
"I know." Will said, soft and understanding. He lifted his voice, addressing everyone. "It'll be back. We need to get off the ship."
Elizabeth looked over Will's shoulder, eyes frightened. "There's no boats."
Will and Squirrel turned. The longboat - their last hope - was smashed, shattered by the falling tentacles. Squirrel swore, prompting alarmed looks from both Will and Elizabeth. They hadn't expected words so foul to come from a woman like her.
"Sorry," Squirrel muttered, embarrassed.
"Wait," Will frowned, watching a barrel roll across the deck curiously. He turned back. "Pull back the grates," Will hold Elizabeth. To Squirrel, he said, "Put all the kegs of gunpowder onto a net in the cargo hold." He handed a musket to Elizabeth. "Whatever you do, don't miss."
"As soon as you're clear," Elizabeth said, stoically, though there was no mistaking the tremble in her voice.
Will turned back to Squirrel. "Go. Quickly."
Squirrel nodded, seeing what he was planning and emboldened by it. "Aye captain!" She shouted, as she made to run below. Before she'd even reached the stairs, the words she had spoken sank in to her. She paused in her tracks, frowning. Captain? No-one else seemed to have noticed. It's true, though - Will would make a fine captain. I knew that the moment I met him.
But where is my captain? Where is Jack Sparrow?
"You lot!" Squirrel called to a bunch of dithering sailors, "Into the hold! Ready a net and load the powder onto it! We're going to send that monster back into the depths!"
"Aye, ma'am!" They shouted, no longer mocking or leering or dismissive of a woman aboard. They were terrified, and orders were the only thing keeping them from becoming frightened gibbering wrecks of humanity.
Squirrel turned about, casting her eyes about. There on the deck was the dirt and the broken glass. But where was Jack?
She looked out to sea, where the Flying Dutchman loomed on the horizon, mocking and cruel. You bastard. What have you done to Jack? Angry tears filled Squirrel's eyes. No! He can't be dead! He's Captain Jack Sparrow! Squirrel turned away from the Dutchman, her head held high.
And then, she saw him. And her heart strings snapped.
"You…" Anger, hot and painful, coursed through her veins, followed swiftly by the hollow broken emptiness of betrayal. There was no mistaking the way the oars kissed the water, no mistaking the figure in that longboat. So, you fly your true colours at last. Your precious, precious life is in danger, so you leave the game, and leave the rest of us to suffer in your stead. The tears in her eyes vanished.
Fine then, Squirrel thought, strangely calm. You go, Jack Sparrow. You leave us to die. I won't shed a tear for you. You may be among the living, but I won't shed a tear for you. After all, you've left us for dead. And the dead don't weep. Especially not for cowards.
I won't weep for the dead.
Tia's face appeared momentarily before Squirrel. You are wiser than most, the swamp witch mouthed, but Squirrel didn't feel wise. She felt… hollow.
I hope you hear us screaming, Captain, she thought bitterly, as she turned away. She caught sight of the green-covered ship in the distance, and her mouth twisted painfully. I hope you hear us, too, Captain, she added, spitefully. And I hope it breaks your heart. She looked back over her shoulder. Yours, too.
She went below, to where William Turner - good, dependable, honourable Captain Turner - was in the cargo hold, overseeing the gunpowder.
And she tried to ignore the ache of her pounding heart.
Will looked up at Squirrel as she descended. Squirrel kept calm, but she did not return his smile. "How are we doing?" She asked, her voice a husky whisper, crossing through the darkness of the hold to his side.
"Not good," Will whispered back, rubbing the back of his neck in concern.
"Only half a dozen kegs of powder," Gibbs shrugged helplessly, from where he stood on the stairs.
Squirrel closed her eyes and breathed out, a defeated sigh. Six barrels would do nothing. Not against a beast like the Kraken. She'd known - she'd known! - that they'd needed more powder, back when they were at Tortuga. But it seems that luck had been against them.
I don't believe in 'luck', Squirrel through savagely, opening her eyes again. She looked to Will, for guidance and hope.
Will's own eyes were hard-edged. "Then load the rum!" He shouted to Gibbs, then turned and leapt down the stairs, descending into the depths of the hold.
"Aye," Gibbs shouted, though it looked as though it pained him, "The rum too!" He climbed up on deck bravely, though not without some hesitation. The crew all groaned, but they followed the order.
Squirrel almost laughed aloud at the irony. She'd ordered the rum in order to lead these men to their deaths - and it would now be instrumental in saving their very lives!
Her own words echoed back to her: I didn't think it was right, but I did it anyway!
There are no coincidences, the steely voice said, stronger now. Squirrel silently agreed.
She walked slowly but surely below, to where the barrels were stacked, and rested her hand on one of them. There was enough rum here for a barrel a man each. Enough for to send the Kraken to its watery grave?
She drew her dagger, and brought down the hilt hard; the wooden lid of the barrel shattered. She cupped her hands, filled them with rum, and drank deep. She'd never had straight rum before - the most she'd had was grog, watered down till it was more water than alcohol. The bittersweet liquid was strong, heady, and it made her reel. It burned her tongue and throat as it went down, but it steadied her nerves and calmed the pain in her heart.
"You heard him!" Squirrel shouted, her throat raw from the rum. The men turned to look at her. "Load up the rum, then come and take a drink!" She indicated the open barrel. Men came towards her, the fear in their eyes tempered by the need to appear brave. Squirrel nodded at them all, seeking to reassure them as much as to reassure herself, then ran out to climb onto the deck.
Perhaps it was the drink that gave her courage. Perhaps it was the silent reassurances of William Turner. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she was going to die. Whatever the case, Squirrel rose up on deck, calm and certain. She picked up a discarded pistol in one hand for a club; in the other hand she picked up a sword that lay abandoned on the deck. Though the sword was heavy and foreign to her, she levelled it, and watched as the water before the Pearl buckled and twisted with the writhing of the Kraken.
She'd go down fighting. And she'd make sure that both Captain Sparrow and Captain Jones - cowards both, for watching from where they were - heard her dying screams.