"Mister Gibbs," Jack's vision was blurry as his pounding head awakened him to consciousness, "what day is it?"
"Day, captain?" the gruff man came into focus, "why, it must be Tuesday what with the cachaça in your hand." His arms crossed, "Should I chart a course for Belize?"
"No, that won't be necessary," Captain Jack lazily rolled over. Though he couldn't get comfortable, what with the wood digging into his side. His eyes still closed, Jack's hands explored the ground. There was no bed beneath him. He'd been sleeping on the docks. At this revelation, he sat up. "Why're the beds gone?"
"Ah. Awake at last." Mr. Gibbs crouched, "We seem to be out of coin, Captain."
The pirate counted his options, "Isn't there anyone we can sponge of off?"
The first mate shook his head, "No one."
"Not even," Jack stalled, "Lucita?"
Mr. Gibbs stifled a shiver. "No! Heaven sake, Jack, we ain't got no coin and we ain't getting it here either. We've got to form some sort of plan. Maybe we could serve under-"
"No." Jack's expression was somber, "We'll not serve under anyone. None but ourselves."
Mr. Gibbs muttered something about being stubborn as he raked a hand across his face.
Just then, Jack heard the gossip between three deckhands loading a ship:
"They say issa big vessel headin' to port. Haunted too."
"Haunted? Ye really believe that, ye bilge rat?"
"Ye ever seen Blackbeard? One look at that mug; I'll tell ye, I'd believe anything."
"Blackbeard…" Jack was lost in thought.
"Oh, no," Mr. Gibbs pipped up, "No, no, no. You know he's the one who got us into this mess in the first place don't you?"
"I do," Jack nodded. "He's the one who's got me Pearl."
"I've seen that look before Jack, but it won't work. That man's too well guarded. You've heard the rumors: zombie crew? Voodoo rope tricks? That's a strong no, fer me."
"Yes, well," Jack rebalanced himself, "luckily, Mr. Gibbs, no one was asking you."
Elizabeth woke sometime before daylight to the brush of water against her lips. She drank hungrily.
"Sorry, Poppet," Pintel's voice was subdued.
"Yeah," Ragetti sorrowfully chimed in, "sorry, poppet."
"Don't be," Elizabeth spoke when her vocal chords were thoroughly wetted. "It was my idea, I'll think of a way out of this."
"But, you've been tied to the mast for two days," Ragetti's expression was doleful.
"Shut it, you idiot! She knows that," Pintel grumbled, "she's the one that's been livin' it." He wiped the remnants of water from Elizabeth's chin. They had tied her loosely, letting her out nightly to stretch and freshen herself. Ragetti had even offered his only spare pair of pants. But the freedom was short lived, for they knew their captains eyes to be everywhere. And the days spent tied in the glaring sun were cruel. The rest of the crew had spit on her and said vile things. At times she was glad to be tied up, for the futility of their treats.
She sighed as she sank her teeth into a stale piece of bread. From the rumors they would dock at port today. And she would be executed, one grand journey over before it even began. Wait a minute; that was just it! She would pretend that it was over. "Pintel," she whispered, "the captain said I was to be executed."
"Ye seem rather accepting of yer fate," the man eyed her strangely.
Ragetti spoke, "Only if she ain't dead first."
"Exactly!" Elizabeth nodded, "I'm going to play dead."
"Acting didn't work out so well the first time," Pintel shook his head.
"This time he'll be distracted," Elizabeth continued, "I saw how excited he was over that note. He'll be wanting to get to the Screaming Siren as soon as we dock. You've just got to keep him on track."
The two men exchanged wary glances, "And how do we do that?"
"Pintel, you can give him a list of the man he's looking for. Make sure he has a certain tattoo or scar or something that will not be easy to find. Then, when he's gone, you can untie me from the mast and make it look like you're carrying my body off the boat. Ragetti, while he's carrying me I need you to grab the Black Pearl."
"Me?!" Ragetti put a hand on his chest in disbelief.
"Well, either you or Pintel, because it can't as well be me, can it? I'm dead!"
The trio looked to one another.
"It's in his quarters," Elizabeth continued, "just above his desk. All you need do is reach up and grab it. Stuff it in your pocket. Be the pirate you are."
"I don't know if I can do it…" Ragetti introspected.
"Look," Elizabeth said calmly, "if you can't do that, then you're going to have to find Jack before Blackbeard returns. And that is one tall order, because we're going off the blind assumption that Jack may be on this island at all. There's even less of a chance that he'll be in the Faithful Bryde. And if, in fact, he isn't there- we were going to use his ship to escape. Now, if we don't have said ship, we are going to wind up rowing out of Tortuga on some dinghy, savvy?!" Oh God, she'd said it. She'd really just said that stupid word.
"I'll find 'im, 'Lizbeth." Ragetti was resolute, "I promise."
Elizabeth felt her gut fall. She searched her partners. Whatever path they took, the outcome would be uncertain. The dismantling of her prior plan had proved it. "You'd better, Ragetti," she relinquished herself once more to the mast, "because I swear I'll come back to haunt you."