Huge thanks to jedipati for her work on this!
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own POTC. :)
Holding the bars of his window, Jack Sparrow watched the Black Pearl pound the town and fort to giddily flaming pieces. Then one of those inhuman shrieks resolved itself from the rest, growing into an eardrum–shattering howl. Jack jumped back, throwing himself against his cell door as part of the wall expired in a miniature fireball. Dirt and stone rained down, scorching heat brushed past, and then quiet fell. He sat up.
A hole at least a yard high and wide gaped in the wall of the next cell, reaching a measly five inches into Jack's wall. Cackling, the other prisoners scrambled out into the night. Bone Man paused to look through the bars. "My sympathies, friend," he said to Jack. "You've no manner of luck at all!" He turned and fled after the others, his laughter ringing in the air as Jack went up to the tiny opening in his wall and rested his head mournfully against the jagged rock.
The clouds seemed to be thinning now; they pulled aside suddenly and let through the light of a gibbous moon. The blue rays illuminated the discarded Bone of Ineffective Temptation where it lay in the next cell. Resigned, Jack reached through the bars, grabbed it, then shuffled over and extended it out the front of his cell. He whistled.
Underneath a bench, the cowering jail keeper stirred.
"Cam'on, doggie." Jack smiled grimly. "It's just you an' me now, yes, you and ole' Jack. Cam'on."
The dog slowly crawled out from under the bench, key ring jangling in its mouth.
"Cam'on, that's a good boy. Cam'on, good dog." Jack wiggled the Bone about in the air. The dog stiffly walked toward him. " 'at's a good boy," Jack coaxed. "Cam'on. Bit closer! bit closer! . . . that's a good dog."
The dog hesitated, then halted and stood staring, two tantalizing feet from Jack's reach. Jack brandished the Bone fiercely. "Come on, you filthy, slimy, mangy cat!"
A brutal thud sounded from the stairs climbing out of the jail. The dog whimpered, lurched to its feet, and trotted down into the lower levels of the jail, remaining out of arm's reach as he passed.
"No, no, I didn't mean it!" Jack reached awkwardly through the bars. "I didn't–"
A pistol shot snapped from the stairs. A red-uniformed guard tumbled into Jack's view, falling to the bottom steps, where he didn't move. Heavy footsteps echoed, and two pirates came down into view. They stopped.
One was ivory, one was ebony. The ivory one said, "This ain't the armory."
Jack's jaw tightened. Twigg an' Khoeler. Never the sharpest knives in the box.
Khoeler, a tall, dark-skinned man with black hair tangled into crusty dreadlocks coolly slid his sword into its scabbard. "Well, well, well," he said in a deep voice. "Look what we have here, Twigg."
Jack stood and gazed frostily at them as they came up to him.
"Captain Jack Sparra," Khoeler said in his peculiar Dutch accent, then spat on Jack's boots. Jack frowned and pulled his extremities, Bone included, into the relative safety of the cell.
Sickly Twigg wore a tight, woven hat that made only emphasized his emaciated face. "Last time I saw you," he told Jack, "you were all alone, on a God–forsaken island, shrinkin' inta th'distance." They chuckled. "His fortunes aren't improved much," Twigg taunted, and Khoeler snorted.
"Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen," Jack growled. "The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers," his voice softened, "and mutineers."
Dark Khoeler snarled and, jamming a hand through the bars seized Jack's throat.
"So there is a curse." Jack stared down. "That's interesting."
Moonlight washed over the pirate's forearm. No muscle. No skin. Just white bone, draped with the ragged fabric of his sleeve. The scent of carrion filled Jacks' nostrils.
Khoeler's eyes blazed with haunted hatred. "You know nothing of Hell." He shoved Jack back, then whirled away. Twigg followed.
Jack watched them disappear up the stairs then contemplated the Bone. At his feet, the moonlight faded.
"That's very interesting."
The death-smell didn't make her gag anymore, though it permeated every shallow breath she drew into her lungs.
Pintel was pressed against her left arm; Ragetti against her right. Behind her, the longboat was full of plunder-laden pirates who kept up a constant lecherous murmur directed at her shivering back. It was because of them she did not dare look back at the shore, for Will.
It was not how Elizabeth would have expected. In her hour of need her father had been gone. So had Norrington. Will had been the only one to even see her. She had watched for him all the way down to the waterfront, waited for him to burst out of the pandemonium and rescue her. He had never appeared. Something had to have happened to him.
Despairing, she berated herself. You should be enjoying this. Isn't it what you dreamed of when you were young and imbecilic? The heroic maiden going to confront the pirate captain…how thrilling, Elizabeth Ann Swann.
The flashes from cannons were getting very close now–Elizabeth looked up in time to see the giant face of a wood woman revealed by the yellow flashing. She gasped. The woman was beautiful, stretched out, offering a bird to the horizon.
But her flat eyes stared at nothing and her curves were all rotting, peeling wood. The bowsprit that held her high above Elizabeth's head was no better.
Elizabeth's huge eyes watched the Black Pearl emerge from the mists. Glimmers became flickering torches that barely illuminated spidery rigging and expanses of ragged sail dancing in the stagnant air. By her carvings, the Black Pearl had once been exquisite, but now she was a crusty monster. A faint uproar came from her decks. Elizabeth looked for the skull flag. The fog was too thick, but she knew; she knew this was the ship from her nightmare.
She stared at her clasped hands. Her knuckles were white and her fingers quivered.
Minutes later Pintel was pulling her through a space in the deck rail. Trying to forget the humiliating climb up the Black Pearl's side, she looked around then froze, every inch of her skin turning to ice.
Pirates were wildly celebrating, running about and wrestling, dancing over their plunder. The night sky was all tortured sails held high on massive masts. The useless torches on the rails created more shadows and sent soot into the air. The Black Pearl was big as the Dauntless . . . bigger. Her black decks rose on both sides in a hellish cage that trapped Elizabeth in a world of men who even now crowded about with famished eyes.
Then she saw him.
He stood aloof on the highest poop deck she had ever seen, a dark figure crowned by a large hat. Oddly, a small monkey swung on a rope to light upon his shoulder. Then a cannon blast lit his face and she saw he was returning her gaze.
Pintel dragged her from the rail, deeper into the black hell.
"I didn't know we was takin' on captives," a deep voice rang out, and Pintel stopped short as a mountain of a man stepped in front of him.
Elizabeth gawked at this new threat. His head was hairless; his skin a gleaming brown riddled with raised scar patterns. He wore no shirt above his sash and breeches, only a belt across his muscular chest, and his gaze made Elizabeth's arms prickle.
"She's invoked the right of Parlay wit' Captain Barbossa!" Pintel squeaked.
Elizabeth gathered her wits and stepped forward. "I am here to neg–"
The man viciously backhanded her across the face. "You'll speak when spoken to!"
Tears in her stunned eyes, Elizabeth turned away, a hand pressed to her smarting cheek. The gathering crowd chuckled. Then went deathly silent.
A long-nailed hand grabbed the man's raised wrist. "And ye'll not lay a hand on those under th'protection of Parlay," the hand's owner said.
"Aye, sir." The words jerked from between the bosun's clenched teeth as he wrenched his wrist free.
Elizabeth turned and sky-blue eyes met hers, shadowed by that big, black hat.
"Apologies, miss," the dark man said, grimly pleasant as his eyes flicked down once to the neckline of her nightgown.
Thin strings of gray hair that must have been glorious curls in long-passed youth framed a lean, unfathomable face. Its skin was pitted, bags hung under its dangerously flat eyes. Under a bulbous nose, a conniving mouth smirked, and greasy, curly hair grew thinly about the chin and upper lip. From this face radiated an icy promise of brutality, sheened with unpleasant manners. An idiot would know who this was and Elizabeth, who had now met two pirate captains in one day, found herself wishing that Jack Sparrow stood in this one's place.
"Captain Barbossa," she responded unsteadily. "I am here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against Port Royal."
His eyes widened. "There're a lot 'a long words in there, miss– we're not but humble pirates." He chuckled the last words and smiled, revealing a mouth of rotting teeth interspersed with gold. "What is it y'want?"
His voice was nasal and throatily rough at the same time; an unnerving voice that one would never forget upon hearing. Yet Elizabeth pulled herself up. "I want you to leave and never come back."
The pirates laughed like rabid dogs. Elizabeth stood firm and kept her eyes on Captain Barbossa, who never twitched.
"I'm disinclined to acquiesce t'your request," he said softly. "Means 'no.'"
Elizabeth's chin rose. "Very well." She yanked the medallion from her neck and marched the few slippery feet to the rail, The jeering pirates hushed. She dangled the medallion over the inky water and looked to Barbossa. "I'll drop it."
His heavily lidded gaze never changed. "The holds 'r burstin with swag, that bit 'a shine means matters to us–" he turned to his crew; they all smiled and chuckled uneasily "–why?"
"It's what you're searching for. I recognize this ship–I saw it eight years ago on the crossing from England!"
Barbossa's eyes flickered. "Did ya now."
"Fine. Well," she drew every on shred of nonchalance she could, "I suppose–if it is worthless, there's no point in me keeping it." She loosened her fist; the medallion began to drop.
"No!" Barbossa's exclamation was louder than the crew's dismayed cry. Elizabeth caught the chain and smiled triumphantly. Barbossa smiled back. Chuckling disagreeably, he came up to her and she sealed the medallion tight in her hands, bringing it close. She could feel the entire crew edging in on her. Stand, Lizzie, stand.
"Y'have a name, missy?"
"Elizabeth..." Elizabeth's mind scrambled, "Turner." She bowed her head. "I'm a maid in the Governor's household."
Captain Barbossa nodded and thoughtfully turned to his men. "Miss…Turner."
The pirates nudged each other. Pintel and Ragetti stared. "Bootstrap!" Pintel whispered.
Captain Barbossa turned to Elizabeth. She shifted warily backward. "And how does a maid come to own such a trinket?" he asked congenially. "Family heirloom, perhaps?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I didn't steal it, if that's what you mean."
"Very well." The Captain extended an open hand. "You hand it over, and we'll put your town to our rudder and ne'er return."
She could not see past his façade. She could not. Her eyes fell to his hand. It looked like a hawk's talon, big and strong, with filth jammed into every fold of skin.
What else could she do? These were the lives of her father, Anna, Hattie, Will, Norrington, and Estrella that she was bargaining for. Slowly, she reached out and dropped the medallion into that dark palm, letting the chain trail from her fingers.
The pirate's hand closed carefully about it. His eyes never strayed from hers as he held the medallion up toward the monkey on his shoulder. Elizabeth watched the monkey grab it and easily spring away on the rigging. She looked to Barbossa. His eyes were wall-like with satisfaction and…anticipation.
"Our bargain?" Her voice was high.
He simply turned and walked away, giving his scarred bosun a hat-flapping nod as he went.
"Still the guns then stow 'em," the bosun boomed. "Signal to de men, set da flags, and make good to clear port!"
Elizabeth rushed through the tumult after Captain Barbossa.
"Wait!" She shoved a pirate out of her way. "You have to take me to shore! According to the Code of the Order of the Brethr–"
He wheeled on her. "First–" Elizabeth shrank as he loomed over her " –your return to shore was not part of out negotiations nor our agreement, so we must do nothing. And secondly, you must be a pirate for the Pirate's Code to apply and you're not. And thirdly, the Code is more what you'd call guidelines–" his eyes shifted wickedly "–than actual rules."
He smirked down at Elizabeth's shocked face. "Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Miss Turner!"
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