I'm super excited for you all to meet the characters in this chapter. So, please, please tell me what you think!!
Thanks so much to reviewers smithy, master of time, lady angst, Nicole Kazan, AKA Parfait, willabeth0906, Telcontar Rulz, and WillsElizabeth23! :)
Anonymous Reviewer Responses:
smithy: Good for him! :) He'll do great things, because touching other people's lives is where we make a difference most. Thanks for the review!
master of time: Indeed. Alabanza Vacia is not a very happy place. Though the thought that bugs might crawled through the food grossed me out, I couldn't resist having a small scene with Jack and the weevils. I'm glad Will escaped, too. I was depressing myself writing Hawthorne do all those horrible things to Will. Now, we have new grounds for angst. :) Thanks for the review!
WillsElizabeth23: No worries. I'm glad you enjoyed it! Will has a fresh start in Alabanza Vacia. Unfortunately that fresh start might be painful. However, he is now in the same vicinity of Elizabeth. I wouldn't expect them to stay separate for very long. As for falling all over herself...you just might be surprised. :) Thanks for the review!
Chapter 20: Of the Sky, as it Cries
Upon seeing the rain, Jack had retreated to his cabin, giving orders for the crew to postpone their outing till morning. After all, there was no rush and he did not particularly savor a wet ride to shore.
But the sight did fill him with awe. It never failed to, the black waves battling sheets of white rain, the moon's pale face swathed in silky gray coverlets of cloud.
It sent hot excitement vibrating through his heart. The only thing missing was the Pearl darting through the battle, shaking with the roar and shudder of each downpour, his hands clinging to the helm as he held on for the wild thrill ride.
His fingers closed around the empty air, envisioning the dark wood's grain, melded perfectly to his grasp, under his brown palm.
Leaning back in his 'captain' chair, he let the beauty of the storm envelope him completely. That is until the door clicked open and the smack of boots brought his attention to the center of the room.
Elizabeth stood, wind blown and wet, as though she didn't even know Jack was there. Her eyes were glazed and her shoulders were drooped forward. Clearly, she was exhausted.
Content to watch, he held his peace, waiting for her to realize he was in the room as well.
She didn't move at first, staring at the floor as though it would open and swallow her whole. One slender hand slid up and pushed her tangled hair back from a pale face, streaked with dirt.
Jack decided to make his 'entry'. "Ya know, love, I've heard that a shoulder to cry on is the best thing one can have when in distress…" he dusted off his own shoulder, "I do happen to 'ave one a'those…"
Her head bolted up, eyes wide as a trapped feline, then, as she caught his sly invitation, narrowed. "Jack…" she growled.
"Bloody disagreeable, women are." He muttered turning back to nature's furious dance.
There was a soft sound of rustling fabric and suddenly she was standing next to him. Her eyes, too, were following the storm's crescendo. She began to speak, yet this time her voice was quiet…lost, "Jack, do you believe in hating someone you love?"
"'liz'beth, hate is strong word…" The pirate captain's eyes darkened but deep hurt and sadness lay in them, reflected by the turmoil beyond the glass. "It's a motivator that we could all do wifout. She's fickle and one moment she'll make you do somethin' you regret."
She sighed, rubbing at her shoulders and bowing her tousled head. "I just hate it so much! This whole mess!" her voice was soft as before yet venomous with passion, breaking at her next words, "and I hate Will for leaving me."
"Look, I'm sure the stupid whelp didn't leave you intentionally…he's a 'othead but he's a smart 'un. Jus' give 'im some time."
"Jack, he killed Cotton."
"Now wot makes you think that? He's an idiot but he's a loyal idiot. He wouldn' hurt Cotton cause he'd know he'd hurt you."
"He didn't think about hurting me when he left, Jack. He didn't think about the baby and the life he is going to live without a father. If he didn't want to hurt me then why didn't he fight harder..."
The room went deathly silent.
"The funny thing about being in want, lass, is that you have to view yourself without something to be truly without it."
Her eyes flickered as she held stock still. Then, without warning, she fled the room and into the mayhem outside.
There was a loud scrape as the tiny rowboat Will, Elaine, Mariel, and Celia had salvaged from the Waking Power connected with the shore.
Will was breathing heavily by now and he stumbled from the vessel, eyesight blurring in weariness.
The sisters were not in much better shape. All three looked stretched far too thin as they slipped up the muddy embankment, cheeks gaunt and hands trembling.
Clumsily, Will tied off the boat and tramped after the girls, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
Alabanza Vacía was fairly empty. The inhabitants in a deep sleep from the weed and ale and so the four of them traversed the narrow, crisscrossed streets in relative peace and quiet. The clouds of smoke hung heavily over the town, making lungs unused to such poor conditions ache.
Half-way up the town's inclined layout, Will sagged against a stone wall, completely unable to continue any farther. He hated the weakness that filled his limbs but he simply had no strength left. More important than that was the lack of will and determination.
The young women beside him seemed to understand and wordlessly they helped him to a tiny niche beside the road, a ragged blanket sheltering from the storm that was growing progressively stronger.
Closing his eyes and forcing away the urge to wince at any movement, Will tried to coerce his stiff, damaged muscles to relax.
Elizabeth seemed farther away than ever and he had no means to get to her. Stinging tears of bitter disappointment filled his eyes. He fiercely shoved them back focused on his ragged breathing.
Slumped together nearby, the three sisters sat, whispering quietly to each other, curly heads touching.
Content to merely be safe for the moment, he let his mind drift away but sleep would not come. No matter how drained he felt.
"Cachez-moi maintenant sous vos ailes. Couvrez-moi dans votre main puissant." At first, he didn't really know he had heard it. It was so soft, beautiful, captivating.
But as the rain calmed even for a little bit, the words became clearer and though they were not in a language he understood, the message was clear. A song of one who's heart was not troubled by the cares of this world. It was a song of praise. It was a song of love.
"Quand les océans montent et le rugissement de tonnerres, Je monterai avec vous au-dessus de la tempête. Le père vous êtes le roi sur l'inondation. Je serai toujours et saurai que vous êtes Dieu." The trio of voices paused, then continued, a poignant harmony of gentle melodic tones. "Trouvez le reste mon âme dans Christ seul. Savez son pouvoir dans le calme et la confiance."
Slowly, the part of Will that had been dying gleamed with life. The light flashed brightly then faded to a soft illumination. It was just a sparkle, just a hint, just a faint glow, one that could be snuffed out at the slightest breeze but it was enough. Enough to re-awaken in him…hope.
Every time, the rain comes down
Close my eyes and listen
I can hear the lonesome sound
Of the sky, as it cries...
Feel the touch of tears that fall
They won't fall forever
In the way, the day will flow
All things come, all things go
It's in the Rain
By Enya
Elizabeth sat, hands clutching her wide girth and head down, sheltered by the dark green leather overcoat as the boat shook with tremors on the turbulent sea.
Jack had decided to wait no longer and so the crew had loaded up the few small crates entrusted them, covered them with spare canvas and had set out, a dripping, grisly entourage of colorful characters.
The trip had, so far, been made in silence, each person lost in their own world. Marty, Pintel, Ragetti, Gibbs, Elizabeth and of course Jack had been the lucky or unlucky selected for this expedition.
Elizabeth still didn't understand why her presence was required. After all, what could she do? She was nearly eight months pregnant. But she had not felt like disputing the point and therefore here she was, huddling from the rain's merciless attack.
So, immersed in her own world, she did not notice when the longboats hit land. Only realizing where they were at a light touch from Gibbs.
Alabanza Vacía fit its name perfectly. It was consumed by empty praise. Her streets were narrow, dizzying, and led steeply up. Dirt and grime was everywhere. Niches and crannies in the walls were far from rare and the stale smell of various foods, not mention the ever present rancid odor of smoke, clung to the air around them. Gaudy colors lined the homes, each trying to attract a potential customer.
Trying to keep stride with the rest of the pirates, Elizabeth was kept far too occupied to gaze too long, however, and the moments passed quickly.
The establishment they finally stopped at was a shabby tavern, the roof slanting sideways and the chimney near black with ashes.
They moved in, Jack, as always, leading the pack with his jangling, sauntering, drunken, waltz-like walk.
Elizabeth had thought the smoke outside was heavy but the air inside made the air they had just left behind seem as clean as a untouched spring hidden away in a cool alcove.
The smoke filled the room as tangible as cloth itself, threading its overpowering touch through every particle of one's clothing.
Hoping the discomfort she immediately felt did not show on her face, she gaped around her as the group paraded farther down several filthy hallways, crossing into the dark shadows.
One woman, in a tattered red dress and smeared makeup, approached them all saucily. "Jack Sparrow, I thought I'd never see you come around these parts again."
"Ah, Isaly," Jack responded, the winning smile neatly pinned on his face. "I never thought you'd still be here, else I would 'ave come sooner."
The woman, now clarified as Isaly, snorted harshly, her pale hands coming to rest on her hips. Her sharp gray eyes glanced behind the unpredictable captain and caught Elizabeth's pregnant form. The gaze seemed to take in everything, the orbs narrowed. "I'd believe that the day you drank seawater as much as your precious rum." She retorted bitterly.
"Well, actually, you're in luck, my lovely, blooming flow-"
"He's waiting, Sparrow." She spun as if no more words were needed or desired and disappeared into another room.
Jack shrugged and followed in her footsteps, leaving the crew no choice but to tag along.
The corridor she led them down was darker than the last and Elizabeth struggled to keep her eyes on their retreating backs. Her cheeks burned at the way Isaly's eyes glittered with assumption at her state. Her fists clenched and she promised herself vehemently that woman would see just what exactly she was before the day's end.
When the hallway ended abruptly they came to a room unlike the rest. It was still heavily swathed in smoke but around the fringes of the room lay tables and sets of chairs. The peculiar thing, however, was not the difference in seating arrangement but the fact that these chairs were a deep rich wood carved by an expert eye.
Clusters of burly men, all armed, sat at the tables, pipes and bottles of rum interspersed between them.
Elizabeth managed to spare a quick glance to one of the men themselves and found herself shocked at their physical state.
Scars trailed their back and arms. A few even had fresh wounds. But as they hunched around their pipes and kegs she perceived the way their eyes glazed over and smiles came more freely.
"Jack Sparrow." The voice was gravely, harsh, and demanding.
"'enry Jones."
"Lord Blanchard said you'd be coming here…I found it hard to believe." A large form stood, dark intelligent eyes resting on the Pearl's crew. Chestnut hair framed a chiseled face, marred by a long scar down the left eye. A broad hand was held out and Isaly's dirty one fell into it, smirking at Jack as she was pulled into the brawny arms. "But you have proved me wrong."
"I do that a lot." Jack responded easily, smile never altering.
To everyone surprise Henry did not react in anger, instead the skin around his eyes crinkled and he began to laugh. "You have not changed Sparrow. Still the rotten," the laughter dwindled, "lying," shriveled, "thief" became completely void of life, "I remember."
"But you do remember me."
"How could I forget? You are the one who gave me this scar, Sparrow. The scar I will live with for the rest of my days." He jerked a finger towards the angry, silver-pink mark along his face.
Isaly cooed something in comfort, laid a kiss on his cheek, and stroked the strands of hair near her grasp, continuing to purr words in his ear.
"Mate, I'm just here to deliver the crates," he pointed behind him to the items Pintel and Ragetti struggled to hold.
"I find that hard to believe."
"Sometimes the truth isn' easy to believe."
A growl formed deep in Jones' throat.
"Captain!" A thin, pale fellow came darting in, eyes wide and breathless. "A ship's been spotted! She's flying British colors, sir! And she's preparing to land!"
The growl burst free.
Rain poured form the heavens, bearing into the soil with tremendous force and scouring away the foul stench acquired through the week's activities.
The sky was a troubled mass of black, swirls of gray clouds, and occasionally a bolt of icy white lightning. And though it was mid morning the sun's bright caress and warm illumination could not be seen.
Even so, the red of British uniforms could be viewed past nature's fury, scrambling from longboats and swarming up the muddy hill like ants.
Upon reaching the pinnacle of the slope and on the edge of town they crisply arranged themselves in neat rows, muskets in front and eyes glued to the person before them.
Anticipation was almost palpable in the air; its tremors flew along the ranks as they waited, reaching every man and sending bolts of adrenaline pumping through their hearts.
Their breath made soft clouds for an instant before the damp, muggy air, deadened with heavy droplets of rain, wiped it away.
Water collected in boats they struggled to bring up the slippery shore. A white horse carrying their leader sprang easily from the latest vessel and the soldier's watched, envious, as it leapt effortlessly up the incline.
As it swept past, clods of dirt pierced the sky around them, speckling their soaked uniforms. Yet not one man flinched. They were British soldiers, the best the world had to offer in military might. Whatever their actions may have been yesterday, the reality of battle and the thrill or fear it brought was enough to wake them up to the training that had been drilled into them countless times.
A rare few of them trembled with excitement. They were about to clean out the dirtiest hole in the entire Caribbean.
Snapping to attention as the horse swung round, facing them, pawing at the pliable soil with impatient hooves, they waited for directions.
Hawthorne, atop a white stallion, viewed the troops under his command with a satisfied air. It was a magnificent sight. Rows of red and white uniform, all armed and trained in deadly precision.
"Orders, sir?"
Smiling viciously, he turned to his second in command. "Kill them. Kill them all."
"Even Turner and Sparrow, sir?"
"Bring them to me."
TBC...