Notes: First, again I apologise to those waiting for an update. I had to take a break from this story because I wasn't sure what I wanted to happen in the middle. I have an ending in mind but there's no point filling the period inbetween with an ill thought-out plot. I've also recently started a Masters degree so didn't come back to this as quickly as I would've liked! Thank you for waiting, and I hope I'll be quicker with a new chapter this time.
This chapter is very Martha-centric I'm afraid. The Doctor still has a big part to play, in fact he's going to get over his dislike of Jack Sparrow in the coming chapters! I always knew they'd probably get along eventually, but wanted that initial mistrust so that it didn't seem artificial.
Chapter Ten:
Roughly one day earlier.
Martha's ears were ringing. She pressed her fingers to her temples and groaned. She knew that she would have to face a battle sooner or later but hadn't anticipated that non-fictional cannon fire would be so loud, not to mention smoky. It always looked so much more endurable in the films. She surveyed the other ship as the Dutchman made a final turn, becoming parallel to the other vessel, the splintered wood on its port side coming into full view. At that moment, Martha realised that this had not been a battle, it was annihilation. Bodies were scattered across the deck and survivors desperately called in an alien language as they seemingly searched for their captain.
In spite of some cosmetic damage, the ship had remained remarkably intact from the Dutchman's surprise attack. Martha had been on hand, stationed at a gun port. They hadn't been told to cause superficial damage, Jones had ordered them to aim. It chilled Martha's blood once she realised that the intended target must've been a human being.
"What did we just do?" she muttered, eyes fixed upon the ship as Jimmylegs and Maccus prepared to board. Martha jumped as a single thump assaulted her already delicate ears. She had been speaking aloud and really hoped that Jones didn't assume she was questioning his order.
"Carryin' out orders tae neutralise the Brethren Court ," replied Jones in surprisingly placid tones. "Now, are ye goin' tae just stand there admiring yer handiwork or am I goin' tae have tae kick ye over there?" he added bluntly. He thrust a pistol into her hand to further emphasise the point.
Martha bit back a frustrated sigh as she pulled away from the railing. "No Captain,"
On board the Empress, Jimmylegs and Maccus were arguing. It was quite a heated confrontation and many vile blows were exchanged as the two could not agree on the correct interpretation of Jones's latest orders. Surrounding them were a few dozen terrified prisoners, dressed in a style that Martha concluded must be Chinese. That struck her as odd, she had never heard of Chinese pirates. Then again, she had never heard of a man who cut out his own heart and turned into a squid…
Martha cleared her throat and the two fish-men looked at her in surprise. "Yer pushin' yer luck girl!" snapped Jimmylegs.
"Don't start bullyin' her just cos she's an easy target bo'sun!" Maccus interjected.
"Sirs please! Don't start that again, I've got a headache," said Martha. "What's the problem anyway?"
"'Legs reckons that we have to lock this lot up in our brig, but the Cap'n told me that space is occupied so we're to tow them and lock them in their own brig," replied Maccus.
"He said, put them in the brig and tow the ship, I say he means our brig!"
"Sorry sir, but I agree with Mr Maccus," said Martha, with a pre-emptive flinch as Jimmylegs was clearly spoiling for a flogging. She clarified "he said the same to me, don't let them mix with the traitor,"
Jimmylegs snarled and clenched his fist tighter around the ever-present whip in his grasp. "Fine then! Go into the state room and round up any stragglers," he barked.
"But…they're men," Martha protested.
"Yes they are, and it's about time you prove that you can pull your weight around 'ere without the Captain protecting you!" said Jimmylegs, swiftly turning away from her to deny a witty comeback.
Martha rolled her eyes and marched forward, her pistol raised. It was going to be another very long twenty-four hours without The Doctor.
-0-0-0-
Once in the state room Martha was greeted by utter chaos. Splintered wood was strewn across the ornate carpet covering the deck. Two men lay dying and bloodied near the door, the victims of a direct hit from a powerful cannon blast. There was a gaping hole in the ship near the centre of the room. Directly opposite this, a slender woman dressed in oriental finery crouched over the body of a man. He was not moving.
Still unaccustomed to violence, Martha quietly approached. The woman turned her head and jumped to her feet, snatching something away from the limp hand of the man beneath her. The woman rose to her full height and stretched out her neck, regarding Martha with caution. "Will did not mention a woman was aboard the Dutchman," the woman stated in flat tones.
Martha could not gauge whether or not the statement was genuine surprise or a show of possession. She placed a hand defensively upon her hip. "Who's Will?"
"My husband…" the woman replied, her eyes flicking to the floor briefly as though pained "well, almost my husband. He escaped your accursed vessel and still our wedding night alludes us,"
Martha furrowed her brow "wait a minute, he escaped?"
"Yes of course," snapped the woman, as though she were annoyed that someone had doubted Will's worth. "Have you not met his father?" Martha shrugged and the woman let out a displeased sigh. "His name is Bill,"
Martha's eyes widened as realisation dawned. "Bootstrap?"
The woman opened her mouth to answer, but barely had the time to think as a set of footsteps approached the state room door. In that same moment Martha dropped her pistol, lurched forward and pushed the other woman by the shoulders in such a way that she fell back to the floor. "You're dead," Martha hissed under her breath. The woman had to suppress a frightened whimper as her face was pressed closely against the cooling cheek of the dead man, his eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling.
"What's goin' on in 'ere?" demanded Jimmylegs with an unpleasant scowl that could challenge even Davy Jones.
"They're all dead sir," Martha replied. She attempted a subtle glance toward the still very much living young woman, who closed her eyes to feign death.
"Well, what's takin' you so long, I've seen coral reefs move faster than you girl!"
Martha had to think fast. She smoothed a hand down her dress and instantly remembers Jones's comment about the crew scavenging claimed vessels. "Just looking for treasure, might as well since we're pirates," she said with a false smile.
Jimmylegs snorted "well be quick about it, we've got prisoners to move!" As he left the room, he paused to look over his shoulder and grinned. "Don't ever let the Captain hear y'callin' him a pirate, it'll be the last thing you'll ever utter with that venomous tongue!"
Martha rolled her eyes and waited until she was sure Jimmylegs was out of earshot. She bent down at the knees and offered her hand, pulling the woman back to her feet. "I'm Martha,"
"Elizabeth," said the woman, rightfully displaying an element of mistrust and shying away from Martha. "For what reason do you help me?"
"I'm not helpin' you, I'm helpin' me. I need to know how to escape this ship,"
Elizabeth laughed slightly "I can't tell you that! There's only one reason Will managed to escape and that was because he did not swear an oath. Evidently you were foolish enough to do just that!" she gestured to the variety of sea life that was beginning to infest Martha's person.
"I have a friend, he was supposed to rescue me," Martha was quieter now, and unable to look Elizabeth directly in the eye.
"You care for him?" Elizabeth enquired. Martha did not even answer with a nod. "I care very much for Will, and he once rescued me, but at this moment he is in as much need of my protection as I am his. Perhaps your friend is in need,"
Martha sighed, "He is out there alone, running out of allies,"
"Then we share a common goal. You help me escape and I promise that you will be able to find your friend. I will secure your freedom as well as that of Bootstrap. I fear that Will is prepared to do anything to undo his father's curse, anything,"
Martha sucked in a breath, suddenly overcome with a previously dormant kind of guilt. "The heart," she muttered, dropping her gaze again.
"You can't possibly be lamenting that Jones may die!"
"Just…don't even go there!" hissed Martha. "Let's concentrate on getting you and this ship as far away from here as possible. Who is captain?" Elizabeth smirked and pointed to the man on the floor. "Oh, well never mind then…let's just call you the captain,"
"I already am," Elizabeth smugly replied.
"Whatever works," said Martha as she knelt to retrieve the pistol. She handed it to Elizabeth, who appeared somewhat confused. "Hide it somewhere!" Elizabeth obeyed, sliding the pistol under her upper garment. "Right, here's the plan. I lead you out and say that oh no actually you were alive. Then you break free and run around a bit causing a distraction,"
"That doesn't sound like a very good plan," Elizabeth interrupted.
"I'm not finished alright? While you're distracting my crew, I'll untie some of your men and they can cause another distraction. Then run toward the bow and loosen the tow-line. I'll chase you, then you shoot me overboard and I'll grab onto the tow-line as I fall,"
"You'll die!"
"I can't die, not sayin' it won't hurt though" replied Martha with a wince.
"Even if you manage to do all that, we'll still have two of your men onboard," said Elizabeth, her expression failing to hide her doubt.
"Well, I'm kind of counting on the fact that Captain Jones told them that I can't be lost or harmed, hence you shooting me overboard. It'd be a great alternative if your men could overcome them," Martha paused and ran an impatient hand over her semi-transformed hair, "wow I think I just gave my friend's motor mouth some serious competition…" she added as an afterthought.
Elizabeth ignored that final remark and remained sceptical "I knew someone who executed plans such as these, they work for him but only just, and he was good at this!"
"Well, my friend is the same, hopefully I'm a good apprentice…"
"Martha!" outside, Jimmylegs was clearly growing impatient. "Get yer worthless hindquarters out 'ere, there's nothin' of value in there!"
"Now or never," Martha chirped, motioning for Elizabeth to leave. Elizabeth sighed and clasped her hands behind her back as she stepped out into the light.
-0-0-0-
The first part of Martha's plan was performed with faultless brilliance. Elizabeth was the perfect actress in pretending to break free and even lightly elbowed Martha in the stomach for added effect. Maccus and Jimmylegs both chased Elizabeth up to the helm and back down onto the main deck. In the mean time, Martha swiftly moved from one man to another untying their bonds and whispering that they should free more men. Unfortunately, once three men were freed, enough commotion had been caused to alert Jimmylegs, who called across to the Dutchman for help. Luckily, Martha had managed to slip behind the next man she had been attempting to free, and she threw herself on the deck, pretending that Elizabeth had hit her really hard.
"Oh…bollocks," Martha growled, realising that Elizabeth was running around in circles for she was supposed to unarmed and thus cornered at every turn. Martha had underestimated Jimmylegs's agility. In spite of this setback, fate was feeling kind. A freed Empress pirate was taking full advantage of the mêlée and untying every rope in sight, including those that connected both ships. The second wave of Dutchman crew fell unceremoniously into the sea, taking their weapons and dignity with them. "The captain's not going to like this…" flashed through Martha's mind on repeat but she didn't care. She lunged at Elizabeth as she ran past. It was a calculated move on Martha's part for she deliberately missed. Elizabeth headed toward the bow and ordered the ever-increasing number of freed men to attack Maccus and Jimmylegs.
The next few seconds were a blur from Martha's point of view. As promised, she arrived at the bow to challenge Elizabeth, who was overcome with second thoughts. After an exchange of reassuring glances, all Martha could remember was the bang followed by the smell of gunpowder, the searing pain in her leg and falling. Always falling. Her arms stretched out blindly reaching for the rope. Her ankle bashed against something, probably the base of the bowsprit. Her heartbeat was screaming in her ears and blood swirling around her body as she hit the water belly first.
A sense of dread overcame her, had she misjudged the situation? Was it possible that crew could actually die from something such as a bullet wound? Then there was the worry that Elizabeth's crew had failed to overcome their captors and Martha was dying for nothing. Martha willed her body to carry on, she fought the burning desire to close her eyes and just sink. She swam. She swam harder than she had ever done in her entire life with one hand constantly groping through the water. If she could get back to the Dutchman, she hoped that she would still live to see another sunrise.
-0-0-0-
She remembered breaking through the surface of the water, bumping her head against something wooden and clawing her way up the side of the ship. The last push was the worst. Her arms were aching and her thigh numb from the bullet. She felt a clammy hand grasp one of her own, that familiar tentacled finger curling around her wrist as it had done once before. She was pulled roughly onto the main deck of the Dutchman. Then the darkness claimed her.
-0-0-0-
When Martha regained consciousness she was in great pain. A throbbing sensation shuddered along her thighbone and into her lower back. Her eyelids fluttered open and she grimaced. She attempted to sit up and was instantly weighed down by the chest. Davy Jones had rested his claw just below her throat. "Best nae try tae sit lass," he said, his tone not exactly friendly.
As her vision came back into focus, Martha attempted to look around without turning her head. She could see the pipe organ ahead of her in the distance. To her left was a plush armrest covered in mould. Also along her left side was a decorative chair back, suggesting that she was lying on a couch. That too was covered in so much mould that the original red colour was only just visible. "What happened?" she muttered as if she didn't know.
Jones snorted "yer incompetence that's what!" he paused and snipped a piece of fabric in half with his claw "ye let that harridan escape, and she got yer pistol and then ye had the brilliant idea tae challenge someone who was armed when ye weren't!" he spat. It was only when Martha felt something being pulled tight around her right thigh that she realised what Jones was doing. Without any care for the pain it would cause, Martha sat bolt upright.
"I can do that!" she snapped, trying to pull the skirt of her dress back down.
"Ha! Think I was havin' a good look? Only lifted yer skirts as far as was needed, nae need to suddenly come over all shy now Miss Jones!"
Martha shrank back against the armrest and lowered her leg, allowing Jones to finish dressing her wound. "I'm surprised you decided to do this, especially the way you spoke to me last night," Jones scoffed in reply. "How come I didn't die?" asked Martha.
"How long have ye been here?" Jones teased, "ye cannae die, but ye can hurt, and that was through no fault but yer own," he rose from a kneeling position and scowled "and tae top off a brilliant first raid, ye lost the prisoners!"
"Sorry," said Martha sheepishly.
"Aye, ye will be! I was promised all the souls this ship could hold, that was our agreement. Lost my bounty because of yer dramatics! At least the land lover is appeased, thank the gods fer small mercies!"
"Lord Beckett?" Martha enquired and Jones gave a single nod. "Oh, there was a man dead on that ship,"
"That'd be Sao Feng. We're in his waters, well…what he liked tae think were his waters," replied Jones obviously referencing his own lordship over the seas.
Martha swung her legs around and lifted herself from the couch, brushing dust from her back and wringing out the final remnants of water from her skirts. "Where are we?" she asked, certain that wherever it was, it wasn't the Caribbean.
"On our way tae Shipwreck Island, we've got a court tae attack!" Jones replied. "Ye can go help clean the guns, they're goin' tae need it, that can be yer punishment," he laughed, knowing that it was a thankless task as they'd only become dirty again.
"But I'm injured!" Martha protested, gesturing to her thigh.
"Legs did nae complain about goin' back tae his duties having been told tae flog himself, which was a sight tae behold. Do ye want tae be his second victim?"
"No Captain," Martha grumbled as she limped over to the exit. She didn't know how much longer she could put up with being nicer to Jones. For every kind gesture, he was still giving out three of four negative signals that tested her resolve. She was sure it was deliberate this time. He was definitely chuckling as she left the cabin.
-0-0-0-
One day later.
The Doctor was in the belly of Shipwreck Cove now, hiding behind the rows of men surrounding a central table. Around that table sat a large group of men and two women dressed in much finer clothes than their standing counterparts. The Doctor briefly stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck to get a better look. He recognised Sparrow, standing next to a young woman dressed in a manner that suggested she was in charge of the guards outside. Next to her was another man, older than Sparrow, with a scraggly beard and a harsh accent. He was currently chastising the young lady at his side. The Doctor arrived mid-conversation, but it seemed this older man was unable to believe that the woman was now…a king?!
"Am I to assume that we won't be keeping to the code?" said Sparrow in his usual drunken slur. The commotion from the others seated at the table died down and they seemingly conceded, albeit reluctantly.
"And what be giving ye the right to question the actions of others Jack, when it be yer actions that have put this Brethren at a grave disadvantage!" snapped the other man.
"I only did what any one of you would've done were you in my position. I came back did I not? There is one not among us who has clearly abandoned our cause…"
"You leave Will out of this!" hissed the woman.
"For that I'm going to retract my vote, you're deposed," said Sparrow with a point of his finger.
"Ye can't be doing that Jack, it not be part of the code," sighed the other man with a roll of his eyes. "Now, Miss Swann, please…"
"Thank you Barbossa," replied Elizabeth with a polite nod. "The East India Company have Calypso, but there is no time to debate who is to blame when that question has an obvious answer," she shot a disgusted glance in the direction of Sparrow, whose upper lip twitched. "If we get her back, we can still free her, therefore we must fight!"
The Doctor, feeling brave, decided that the matter of Calypso was a useful point to chip in. "I think you've hit a little bit of a snag there," he cheerfully called out.
Every head in the room turned in unison and every pair of eyes successfully located The Doctor, who was still wearing his borrowed hat. However, his clothes and his rather hygienic appearance made him stick out like a sore thumb. His usual silly grin slipped across his face and his eyes sparkled. A single sound filled the hollowed hull of Shipwreck Cove, the sound of many pirates drawing their pistols and lightly squeezing the trigger, ready to fire.
The Doctor slowly raised his hands and spread his fingers in a gesture of surrender. He relaxed his mouth and gave a less assured smile. He then greeted the Brethren Court in the only way that he knew how to greet a potentially hostile group. "Hello there, I'm The Doctor…"