(A/N: This was a bit of a rough fic to write or even publish, especially since at the time of posting, it's been a year since the "two week" lockdown now. It's from a quarantine prompt that was, funnily enough, posted a few years ago, at least on the source I found it in. I'd say that aged quite rather...interestingly. I'm still grieving and wanted to take my years worth of frustration out on a fic. You don't have to read it if the subject is still sensitive to you. I completely understand.)
Cough, cough.
"Oi! Who was that?"
Somebody had coughed within the darkness of the Barnacle's sleeping quarters. The captain climbed down from his bunk and lit a lantern, casting it's light upon his worried crew's faces as they sat in their berths in silence.
"Which one of you did it?"
A few days earlier:
The coastline of a lush, tropical island peeked over the horizon as the mighty Barnacle sailed towards it. Captain Jack Sparrow stood happily at the helm as his crew mates, Jean Magliore and Tumen were up at the yard getting ready to furl the sails, and his first mate Arabella Smith and aristocratic crew member Fitzwilliam P. Dalton III were on deck tying off and tugging at the lines. Jean's so-called cat-turned sister Constance strutted around the deck like she owned the place. Not long ago, Jack had returned his payment to the mystic Tia Dalma, and he and the rest of the crew were relieved to finally be over with their last quest for the Sword of Cortés. Tumen was the most excited; he was finally returning to Yucatán. The Barnacle was headed to a small island to gather more supplies for the journey to take Tumen home.
The little boat Jack called a ship sailed into a slip of a strangely empty harbor. Jean and Tumen climbed down from the rigging as Fitzwilliam went to tie off the ship onto the dock.
"All ashore that's going ashore!" Jack said with a grin.
"It's strange that not many people are around," Fitzwilliam said from the dock.
"I hope there's no...magical reason behind it," Arabella said, biting her bottom lip.
"There shouldn't be much to worry about, mates," Jack said, waving them off. "The Sword is in Tia Dalma's hands now. There's no reason for a whole town to disappear like Puerto San Judas did."
"There are a couple other ships docked here. Maybe it's a slow day," Jean suggested.
They all nodded in agreement and proceeded to hop off the boat onto the dock.
"Halt!"
A finely dressed fellow that looked to be an official called out from the other end of the dock. He walked over towards them and stopped after a few steps, not going anywhere near the crew.
"Oh, right. I got to pay," Jack dug into his pocket for some coins until he was stopped.
"This island is off limits to travelers!" the official announced to the crew in a heavy official-like voice.
Jack clapped his hands together and bowed. "Good sir, my crew and I are just making passage and we need to stop by to grab supplies."
Jack stepped forward towards the official and the official backed away, while still standing his ground.
"This island is under heavy lockdown due to the outbreak," the official informed.
The crew looked at each other confused.
Jack sneered at the official, not knowing what he was talking about. "What is this outbreak you're going on about?"
"Have you not heard? The outbreak of the cough has been plaguing the Caribbean for about a month."
"Uh, no?" The young captain looked at his crew and they shrugged. "We've been at sea for the past couple months."
"You must leave immediately. If you don't leave, you will be forced to."
Jack frowned. "All right, mates. Let's go."
The crew turned and boarded the Barnacle and Fitzwilliam untied the boat from the dock before boarding himself.
Once the ship set sail again, the crew sat around wondering what happened.
"That chap had a stick up his butt," Jack said grudgingly from the helm.
"How could we have completely missed something so...major that the ports are locked down?" Arabella wondered as she looked out to sea.
"It's probably not so major then, isn't it?" Fitzwilliam said, crossing his arms.
"Whether it's bad or not, how will we get our supplies?" Jean asked, petting Constance in his arms.
Tumen sat quietly next to Jean clearly worried as he hugged his knees.
"I don't think we'll have to worry about the supplies part, mate. There's another island not far—probably a half hour away, where we could get supplies from," Jack reassured.
The Barnacle made port at the second island, which was a bit smaller. The harbor at this island was completely empty. Jack and his crew walked down the dock noticing that no one came out to reprimand them, allowing them to head into town.
Jack turned to his friends with a smile. "Looks like we docked here for free. Carry on now."
The crew of the Barnacle wandered down the street, sticking close to one another as they looked around in awe at how empty the town was. It was strange. The cobblestone roads that would have been filled with people, carts, and horses were barren, and the shops were completely deserted. It was almost as if the Sword of Cortés made everyone disappear again, but they spotted someone peering through the window of their home before quickly shutting their curtain. Everyone locked themselves in their houses by choice...by fear.
"Move it!"
The crew heard a voice call out from behind them and they were quick to move out of the way. A weathered old man wheeled a large cart past the teenagers. The unshakable crew quickly realized the cart was filled with anything but ordinary—piles and piles of bodies, which they assumed were dead by the smell.
"Bring out yer dead!" the man called out.
The man wheeled the cart ahead of them down the street.
"Bring out yer dead!"
"Bring out yer dead!"
The crew watched with wide eyes as the man turned the corner, his calls becoming more and more faint.
"Okay, maybe it is that bad," Jean said with a shaky voice.
"I guess," Fitzwilliam sort of agreed. "I don't know how a cough could kill so many people though."
"It's like we are back in the Plague," Arabella breathed.
Tumen began fidgeting with his hands and his sleeves. "I don't think we should stay here much longer," he finally spoke.
"Tumen's right," Jack said. "Let's find a market and get some food so we can get out of this blasted graveyard."
The crew quickly came upon an outdoor market that was open but to their surprise, there was very little food left, especially the non-perishables. They approached the counter where a man sat at the counter flipping a coin.
"Hey, what's a mate got to do to find some food around here?" Jack asked. "Do you have biscuits? Salted meats? Anything?"
"All that's left is it," the man responded. "The supply ran dry before we locked down."
"I guess that's better than nothing." Jack turned to his crew. "Take all that you can and bring it back to the ship. Make it quick," he ordered. He then slammed a few coins down on the counter.
Back aboard the Barnacle, Jack decided to bring out a game from below deck to lift up his friends' spirits. After all, playing games is what they sometimes did to pass time when not working since an average day out at sea was quite boring.
"Who is up for a game of draughts, everyone?" Jack asked with a smile, emerging from the hatch with the game in hand.
"Oui, oui! I want to play!" Jean piped up, dropping down to his knees.
Jack knelt down and unfolded the square canvas onto the deck, unraveling a couple of small pouches filled with pieces. He laid out the checkered fabric in front of Jean and tossed him the pouches.
"All right, mates. We'll split off into teams," Jack said, rubbing his hands together. "Fitzy and Jean shall be a team, and Arabella, Tumen, and I will be a team."
"I think Arabella should be better off with me," Fitzwilliam said. "She'll learn how to play at my side."
"She already knows how to play!" Jack snapped. "But she'll be even better at my side and we're going to beat you!" He quickly turned to Jean. "No offense, mate."
"Mind ye two, I'm just going to play with Jean and the both of ye will play together," Arabella declared, sitting next to Jean. She properly tucked her skirts under her legs as she sat crosslegged.
"Tumen, do you want to play?" Jean asked.
Tumen gazed over from the barrel he was sitting upon, just now realizing the crew was setting up a game. "Oh, uh, no thanks."
"Are you sure?" Jack asked.
"Y-yeah, I'm sure," Tumen nodded.
"Okay, it's two against three now," Jean said as he finished organizing the pieces on the game board.
"Against three? There's only two of you," Jack said.
"Constance is playing, too," Jean replied. Constance trotted over and sat beside Jean.
"That's a cat," Jack sneered.
"And my sister!" Jean snapped. "And she will be included!"
Jack, Arabella, Fitzwilliam, Jean, and Constance all sat around deck playing draughts. Tumen watched them play, but after a while he stood up and walked away. No one noticed he was gone until Fitzwilliam glanced at the barrel Tumen sat on.
"Where's Tumen?" Fitzwilliam asked. "He's gone."
The rest of them looked around, also realizing Tumen was missing.
"I think Tumen is a wee bit upset," Arabella stated.
"How'd you know?" Jack asked.
Arabella pointed ahead past Jack and Fitzwilliam and they turned around. Sitting at the bow was Tumen facing away from them.
The crew stood up and slowly approached Tumen. The deck suddenly creaked at their footsteps, starting Tumen. The Mayan turned a little, side-eying his friends, then looked back out to sea.
"Tumen, mon ami, are you all right?" Jean gently asked his friend.
Tumen silently shook his head, still turned away from them.
"What's wrong?" Arabella asked.
Tumen sighed. "The cough is as bad as they say it is. I...I won't be able to go home."
Fitzwilliam furrowed his brow. "Why? Why won't you be able to go home?"
"I can't go back..." his voice grew thick with emotion. "I don't want I bring the sickness to my people."
"But none of us are sick here," Jack shrugged.
"Aye, but we'd be carrying this sickness without knowin' it," Arabella pointed out. "It's best that we don't go."
"I'm never going home..." Tumen hugged himself as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Jean put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"No, no. You'll get to go home!" Jack said. "It'll just be delayed...probably about a few weeks...or a month...or so."
"Well, what do we do now?" Fitzwilliam questioned. "Going to Yucatán is out of the question—at least for now."
"Every blasted port in the Caribbean is closed, so I say just stay here out at sea. I can live with that," Jack suggested.
"We can live with that, but we can't live," Arabella stressed. "We barely had much food and drinking water to begin with, and we only brought back a single bag from last port, which won't last us long."
Fitzwilliam pondered. "We could go somewhere outside of the Caribbean. We would just have to ration our food carefully. But where?"
After some thinking, someone spoke up.
"Nouvelle-Orleans," Jean said out of nowhere.
Jack, Arabella, and Fitzwilliam stared at him blinking.
"I don't know if the outbreak has spread to there, but we can try. Even if they don't have it and we bring it there, they'll likely be able to contain it."
"I mean, we don't have enough supplies to get us through a trip longer than that so we might as well," Arabella said.
"All right then, that's settled. We will be charting our course to New Orleans first thing tomorrow morning!" Jack said enthusiastically.
Present:
"Which one of you did it?"
From their berths, Fitzwilliam, Jean, and Tumen looked at Jack wide-eyed. Ever since the events that transpired the few days before, fear had been growing within the Barnacle as they made the journey to New Orleans to find supplies. They only had about a week and a half's worth of food left. They were three days out on their course and just a week until they sail into port.
Fitzwilliam tried to remain strong, glancing back and forth at Jack and the other boys in the quarters. Jean's gaze fixed ahead at nothing in particular as he clutched Constance in his arms. Tumen trembled in his bunk.
Somebody coughed...but who?
"I...it wasn't me," Jean stuttered.
Jack narrowed his eyes. "I need an honest answer from you, mates. The sooner somebody comes out with it, the sooner we can get to taking care of it."
Arabella came down the hatch. She had been at the helm keeping the Barnacle on course. "What's going on?"
"Somebody coughed."
"What happens if somebody comes forward?" Fitzwilliam asked.
Jack looked at Arabella, then back to the other boys. "Well, I think the best thing to do is isolate that somebody from the rest of the crew, so we don't get it and that somebody who's isolated from the crew do the isolating recovers on their own without spreading the illness. Savvy?"
Fitzwilliam opened his mouth to speak, but then...
"I did it!"
Everyone quickly turned to the bunk above Jean, where Tumen was.
"I...I coughed!" Tumen confessed.
Everyone felt tense. Jean got up from his bunk and went to the other side with Fitzwilliam.
Jack stepped forward to Tumen. "Are you telling the truth?"
"Y-yeah," Tumen answered.
Jack nodded. "Thanks for your honesty," he turned back to the rest of his crew. "Mates, pack up everything you're going to need for the next couple of weeks. We're staying up on deck."
Fitzwilliam was quick to jump into action. "Jack, no! He barely even coughed! It was probably just a tickle in the throat!"
"A cough could just be the start of it," Jack shot back.
"The start of what? What if it's just a fluke? Or dust? Or a common cold?"
"I'm not one to be paranoid here, but I still have the best interest for my crew in mind."
"Jack is right," Arabella jumped in. "It's better for just the four of us...and the cat, to get through this than none of us. The two weeks will go by quickly. If we make it to New Orleans before the time, we'll stay at an inn until it's safe to come back aboard."
Silence filled the room once again as Jack thought of what to do. "Arabella, you grab the food and water, and leave some for the lad. Fitz, you grab the materials—line and canvas and such. Jean, you grab the charts and navigation tools. I will grab the weapons. Bring your personal belongings as well. We're not going back down once we're settled."
With a simple swoosh of the hands from Jack, Fitzwilliam got up to his feet and he, Jack, and Arabella scrambled around to gather supplies. Jean sat there with a conflicted look in his eyes. He knew his friend was sick, but he didn't want to leave him alone down below deck.
"I am going to miss you, mon frère," Jean said sadly.
"I'm going to miss you, too," whispered Tumen. "It's only for the better."
After a moment of hesitation, Jean stood up and went to gather supplies with rest.