Chapter 06: 1740 - The Key to the Key
His body rebelled and not just his body as a whole.
Every muscle, every cell, every bone seemed to fight with all its might against giving up the comfortable state, into which the apparent death had put him, wherein he had dwelled for the length of about half a day.
Every heartbeat, every breath, every thought seemed to be linked to some sort of pain, accompanying his slowly waking up with thousands and thousands of needle pricks.
His throat was burning, his mouth was dry, and his tongue felt numb and furry.
His lips were rough and chapped, his eyelids felt heavy and swollen, and every breath filled his lungs with sheer agony.
Added to this was that musty, mouldy stench that enshrouded everything, him included, and the penetrative knocking piercing his consciousness at irregular intervals and echoing within his already groggy head like an enormous Chinese gong.
No, this was not how Jack Sparrow expected to return to life after he had faked his death with the help of an odd elixir Tia Dalma once had given him. Had he known what would be waiting for him, and had he been able to, he would have refused to wake up!
Rarely had he felt so tired and consumed as within this moment when he was all himself again.
If only thinking hadn't been so painful, and if only it hadn't been for the smell - both were just made to make him feel even more nauseous than he already felt. Why couldn't the moment of awakening just be as pleasant as the moment he'd fallen into that deep and dreamless sleep?
Because, it occurred to him, it hadn't been a deep and dreamless sleep at all...
After he was finally ready and willing to open his eyes, he found himself within an impenetrable darkness. It was pitch black all around him and even as his eyes began to adjust to the dark, he couldn't see the slightest bit.
Making a try to feel where he was, he noticed that the space he was locked in was narrow, and as soon as he tried to sit up he found that it was not only narrow but also low, for he immediately hit his head on its wooden ceiling.
The moment his head hit the wood from the inside, the annoying knocking on the outside stopped, fortunately, and he realised that he was obviously no longer on solid ground, for his weird prison moved within the same steady rhythm only the swell of the sea could bring forth. Something that was not unwelcome to him at all, for with every wave rolling against the wooden walls, he became more and more master of his senses again. And the more he became master of his senses again, the more clearly he began to remember everything that happened over the bygone days.
Once again he sent his fingers wandering, and was relieved to find everything still to be in place:
Pistol, sword, compass, boots and headscarf were where they were meant to be. His tricorn lay on his chest, and as far as he could tell he was still wearing all of his clothes - and he smirked into the darkness when his fingers slipped into the rolled up sleeve of his shirt, because the piece of cloth was still in place as well.
That very piece of cloth which had gotten him into this precarious situation in the first place...
That very piece of cloth for which he had voluntarily allowed himself to be imprisoned...
Oh yes, his memory was back to working properly again and he hoped imploringly for this piece of cloth to be worth the price he had been willing to pay for it:
Jack knew by now that he was locked inside a coffin. One of those innumerable coffins, the guards of that horrible prison high above the Turkish shores used to throw into the sea once a week, in order to save themselves the trouble of having to give a proper burial to the poor souls dying within the dungeons' cells and torture chambers. They got assembled in the simplest way imaginable and in the shortest time possible, and as soon as they were finished they got thrown over the cliffs - usually loaded with two corpses.
The rest was left to the current, the tides and the wheel of time...
Jack had wasted no time in turning his back on the pirates of Madagascar as soon as he got back aboard the "Pearl". Thanks to Gibbs and van Dijk, who carried out his orders without hesitation, had they been able to cut the auxiliary anchor in no time, set sails at lightning speed, and sail out of the bay under full canvas as they had sailed in only a few days before.
Since Brasiliano had guessed their plan, his "Scorpion" had been hot on their heels for a while, but after less than an hour they did run straight into an English frigate. At first the "Pearl" seemed to be caught within that trap, and Jack - obviously in dire straits - had signalled their defeat, only to distract both Brasiliano and the English long enough with two well-aimed broadsides, to hurry off, before one of them could even think of following him.
As soon as he was sure that neither Brasiliano nor the English would be at their heels again, Jack left the helm to Cotton and provided him, Gibbs and van Dijk with the bearings for their next heading, just to vanish into the captain's quarters for the remainder of their voyage back to the Mediterranean.
Both Gibbs and van Dijk had tried to elicit from him the reasons for his voluntary exile, but neither the one nor the other succeeded in doing so, and they usually found Jack dozing in his berth, staring at a spot on the ceiling, or deep in thought, poring over his sea-charts.
He couldn't get his mind off what he had heard from Prudence Stevens - that Jeremy had been one of the nine pirate lords of Shipwreck Island, and that only treachery had robbed him of his title and his 'Piece of Eight'...
What did all this mean?
Had Eduardo Villanueva really sold Jeremy Stevens out to Don Esteban?
Had he accepted that the Spaniard would sell Rosalind and Caith to a brothel to silence them?
Had this been the reason why Rose hated Shipwreck Island and the Council of the Brethren so much?
Questions upon questions and yet they would have to wait until he would have found the prison on the Turkish coast and that mysterious stranger on whose goodwill not only his own fate depended, but also that of his ship and crew...
It had not been difficult to find the dungeons on the Turkish coast they had been looking for, once they had reached the Mediterranean.
Jack's extraordinary compass had served him well again, although he had to admit to himself that this really wasn't what he craved or desired most. But if van Dijk was right, he would find a solution to at least one of his problems here. If, yes, if the mysterious stranger supposedly being held behind those dungeon walls found him worthy enough to share his secrets with him...
He knew his negotiating skills and alert mind would be of great help, but he also knew they wouldn't be what the stranger would want to know from him. If it was true, and if this man really knew something about Davy Jones, it needed more but witty persuasion.
Except of van Dijk, no one aboard knew why he wanted to go ashore right here and now and why he was willing to break into a prison, and even Gibbs learned only part of what would keep them in these dangerous waters for about a week.
Jack knew his faithful first mate had a vague foreboding about the goings-on but as so often with Gibbs' vague forebodings, they tended to be a bit too interwoven with sailor's yarn, and so there was only fragmentary information about this planned venture for him.
However, Jack also knew, that he would be on his own in this venture.
Nothing new to him per se, but the thought of what would happen to him if his plans got figured out wasn't something he wanted to imagine willingly. Therefore, the idea of having Gibbs and van Dijk take him back on board within a week's time, as planned, seemed much more friendly to him.
By that time, so he hoped, he would have learned everything he needed to get him out of the mess the bargain with Davy Jones had left him with.
Much to his personal pleasure, if 'pleasure' would really be supposed to be the right term to use in this case, finding a way into the dungeons had not been much of a problem: As in almost every port, better in almost every port where pirates, privateers and other shady scoundrels went in and out on regular turns, there was, of course, this one obnoxious character who felt he had a score to settle with him.
When he thought about it, the question was rather whether he had forgotten all those encounters, whether they did really happen at some point, or whether the one who wanted to settle a score with him was just looking for an opportunity to someday claim he had an encounter with the infamous Captain Sparrow.
Whatever the reason, here and now, the encounter with one of those strangers had been more than welcome, for it meant he would not have to waste time on some fruitless attempts to get behind the massive prison walls: Barely an hour after stepping ashore, he stood before the dungeon's warden - apparently guiltless and wearing his most innocent smile.
Luckily, this time, too, his extraordinary gift of talking his opponents dizzy served him perfectly well again, and he escaped a far more intense interrogation, namely torture, simply because he claimed to be able to make that mysterious prisoner sitting behind these walls tell him the secret of why he did not age. Something, the warden seemed to be very curious about, and something, which caused the man to set his trust in a pirate - means, he agreed to locking Jack up within that mysterious prisoner's cell.
What happened to those prisoners who weren't as fortunate as he, Jack got to know just all too clearly as he got dragged deeper and deeper through the dungeon's corridors: Down here no one heard the desperate screams of all those on whom the torturers tried their skills...
The heavy door slammed shut behind him with a loud bang, and as soon as the screeching sound of the key turning within the lock and the footsteps of the guards died away down the corridor, a strange silence spread around him.
Jack was aware that he wasn't alone within this cell, but not knowing who he was sharing this damp, cold room with didn't make it any better.
However, nothing hostile seemed to emanate from the other - whoever he was - and so he dared to look for a corner that didn't seem as dirty as the rest of this cell. He then dropped down on a bundle of dry straw, awaiting what was yet to come.
He didn't have to wait long, because as curious as he was about the stranger, the other seemed to be as curious about him - about the new unfortunate soul locked up in this cell together with him: "What have you done to be locked up here of all places, lad? Here, where those await death who seem to have been long forgotten by time and life? They must really think of you as someone special if they grant you this doubtable pleasure the very day you arrived."
The voice that spoke to him from out of the darkness sounded strangely familiar, and yet as alien as it could sound. And the tone in which the man spoke to him seemed youthful, ancient and archaic in equal measure - both timeless and loaded with the knowledge and the wisdom of many bygone centuries.
As it seemed there was at least something to the legends van Dijk had heard about this mystery.
But who was yet to say if it was the truth?
Who was alone and left to himself for so long would inevitably end up being a bit weird and wacky - wouldn't he?
Without giving it another thought, Jack decided to take the risk as he gave the stranger his answer: "They locked me up together with you because I said I could elicit the secret of your unnatural long life from you. It didn't take me an hour to get them to believe me." He smiled and added: "But unlike me you seem to have been enjoying the generous hospitality of our gracious hosts for a little longer, eh?"
"A little longer. Indeed..."
There was a smile within those words, and Jack's amazement grew with every moment. Even more so when the stranger walked over to him. The man wore no chains, and he seemed completely unaffected by neither the place they found themselves in, nor by the long time he had obviously been locked up down here already.
Like his voice, his face too, seemed to be old and young at the same time. Kindness, humour and wit shimmered within his eyes, but hidden behind, there seemed to be more than another one's eye was able to spot. As he looked openly and curiously into Jack's face now, he did so without even the slightest trace of distrust, and when he sank his gaze deep into Jack's eyes, there was nothing awkward about it, let alone evil.
Jack blinked and sat up, catching the stranger's gaze in turn: "There are rumours about you being held down here because you are feared. It is said those who buried you alive in here believe you are an evil spirit whose soul is cursed. A possessed being unable to die..."
"And you believe in idle talk like that?"
"Me?" Jack shook his head: "No, mate, I don't believe in idle talk like that. I wouldn't even believe it if it were true. Because, you know, I've encountered more than enough oddities since I was first allowed to set sail..."
He hesitated, then decided that he would have nothing to fear at all, even if he told the stranger the truth, and so he added openly and without concealing anything: "I think you know why I'm here. For me there is only one reason that leads me to seeking you out, and it has nothing to do with superstition or some weird hocus-pocus. I'm here because I want to know if it's true that you know the way in which I can outsmart Davy Jones. Savvy?"
A long silence followed his openly spoken words, but at some point a hearty laugh rolled over the stranger's lips, which, like he himself, seemed not to be part of this world: "A young man like you, a sailor at that, is looking for a way to outsmart Davy Jones? A man as unpredictable as the sea? A man said to have been brought to life by the sea itself? Do you have an idea about how to do that? And more importantly: What makes you think you're the one who could do it?"
"It's simple, mate: For as long as I can remember, I've been told over and over again that I'm a child of the sea..."
"Yes," the stranger interrupted him thoughtfully, as if he wasn't really speaking to him: "a child of the sea. Born aboard a ship while a typhoon shredded the sails and towering waves swept the deck. A child of the sea bestowed with the highest gift a creature of the sea can bestow a mortal being with: Life!"
"What would you know about that? Weren't you already sitting in this cell when I was born?"
"The tales told by the wind and the sea travel swiftly, son, and when one is fond of both, as I am, one learns more than those who listen only to what they are able to understand... Me thinks you know what I'm talking about, right?"
"Yes, I think I know that. I've always loved the sea..."
"And now you dare snatching one of the secrets from this love of yours?"
"I know the sea goddess, mate. I know she distrusts any sailor ever since they betrayed her for their own vantage and I know what bond it is that binds her to Davy Jones. As far as it concerns me, she may keep her secrets, I'm not interested in them. I don't want to defeat Jones to cause her any harm. I want to defeat him to keep harm away from meself..."
"Ah! I see! You want to keep yourself out of harm's way. And how are you going to do that without harming others in the process?"
"I don't know," Jack admitted: "Not yet..."
"And you're still taking the risk of searching for answers in a dungeon from which there is only one way out? In a wooden coffin?"
"I have no choice! My way to Davy Jones leads through you and your knowledge of how and where to find the 'Dead Man's Chest'..." Jack met the stranger's eyes again and went on: "For my part, doubt me and my motives, but believe me I don't want anything for myself. Nothing but one thing."
"What would that be? Gold? Treasures? Riches?"
"No! All I want is to finally find my inner peace again..."
"And how are you going to achieve that if you don't know what you really want, lad?"
"But I know what I want..."
"For sure?"
The stranger spoke so urgently that Jack began to ponder. Until now he had always been convinced that he knew what he wanted:
Getting rid of the bargain, he once struck with Davy Jones, and once he'd have accomplished that, finally settle his score with Mercer and Beckett, to make them pay for everything they had done to him and Caith...
But was that all? Was this really what drove him on? Was this really what he wanted?
"Your silence tells me you're to begin to doubt yourself. You shouldn't do that, lad, because if you do, you could easily overlook what it really is you long for..."
"Tell me one thing, mate: Why does a new mystery open up every time I decipher the meaning of another?"
"That's because the world in itself is a mystery, son! You won't be able to decipher them all and the question is, would you really want to do so even if you could? Isn't the world big enough as it is for clever minds like you?"
"Maybe, but..."
"Didn't you refuse yourself when the sea goddess offered to predict your future? Twice even?"
"That is something different..."
"Is it? Really? Well, the sea goddess seems devoted to you, lad. How else do you explain your skill at handling ships since you were old enough to set sail without your father? And how else do you explain that you can't bear staying ashore for more than just a couple of weeks?"
"Do not get me wrong, but all this could also be known by someone who knew me since childhood..."
"You know I'm telling the truth. I already sat in this cell long before you were born, even long before your father was born. I know you like getting people to think you have a black pirate heart, but your actions speak otherwise, Jack Sparrow! You act selflessly, albeit in an extraordinarily wilful way - and even if you still believe yourself that everything you're driven by serves your own benefit only. If you're really willing to face Davy Jones, you have to be sure of what you really want first. Only then will you be able to escape the bargain you struck with him..."
"Then will you tell me where I can find the chest?"
"I can't. That's a mystery you must unravel yourself."
"And the key? Each chest has a key, and I know I can find the chest if I can find the key leading me to it."
"I can't work miracles, Jack Sparrow! All I own is a slowly fading drawing of the key. But I'm not sure if you're the one I should leave it to. Every sailor fears Davy Jones. How can I be sure you won't lose courage should you get hold of his heart one day?"
"I'm not afraid of Davy Jones, mate. I fear only one thing and that is having to return to the merciless white desert waiting for me down there. Holding Jones' heart, I could negotiate my freedom, that's all I want from him."
"Well, if that's so you shall have the drawing, but never forget: Every action leads to another. Choose your decisions wisely, otherwise your fear of that white desert might rob you of your gift of knowing when it's time to do the right thing - and what the right thing is..."
The annoying knocking was back - and this time Jack had enough!
Within the darkness of the coffin he was floating in off the Turkish coast, he fumbled for his pistol, then, he vaguely aimed the barrel at the direction the annoying noise came from and fired!
The sound was gone and a barely noticeable breeze of fresh air entered - just enough to fully revive his spirits.
The coffin's wooden lid gave in as soon as he kicked it hard, and still a bit dazed, Jack sat up before taking a few deep breaths of fresh air. He then looked around briefly and found ... the mortal remains of the cheeky troublemaker floating next to the coffin: A careless crow, who hadn't counted on the impatience of a notorious pirate, who had just escaped a graveyard for the living.
Jack glanced back at the cliffs, thanked the stranger inwardly once more, who let him have the drawing of that key, and then thought about how best to row towards the "Pearl".
He grimaced at the thought that came to him, shook it off quickly and reached into the coffin. A ghastly crunch could be heard and, "Sorry, mate", a skeletonized leg emerged which could at least serve as a temporary rudder: "Mind if we make a little side trip? Good! I didn't think so."
