* I OWN NO RIGHTS TO PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN. WHILE SOME CHARACTERS ARE OF MY OWN CREATION, ALL OTHERS BELONG TO DISNEY.
A/N: Well here be the first chapter. Apologies for the wait, but as always, school manages to consume all the free time I have :P, but hopefully you'll all forgive me now that I'm finally uploading this. As I said, I've been pressed for time and can only write at night before falling asleep at my desk, so this chapter's a little short, but hopefully I'll be able to write more next time. Anyway, Allow me to shut up and let you read; ENJOY!
Jack's POV:
Silence, darkness…and the scent of pickles. Nothing but the sound of me own breathing and the drunken babble and snoring of filthy bilge rats drowning out the howling winds and the crashing of waves against the hull. Cramped and unmoving, I remained in hiding; unaware of my exact surroundings and unable to leave my 'post'. No telling how long we'll be here; 'Not like I can get up and ask.' After two days of silently hiding in a pickle barrel, rocking back and forth at the mercy of the tides, I don't think it wise to leave my post now. Bored and silent, I sat waist deep in pickles (I was up to me neck, but, then I got hungry) waiting for this bloody ship to pull into port. As the ship continued to move over the waves, the swishing sound and sloshing feeling of pickles against my chest was enough to drive anyone mad; but suddenly, the swaying lessened. 'We've made it. At last; (this pickle smell is making me nauseous.)' Carefully, I removed the bung from its whole in the barrel and took a peek at the now vacant hull; through the tiny peep hole I could see the crew exiting to the deck, cheering and staggering up the stairs, wastefully spilling drops of precious rum as they went. "It's about bloody time," I said to myself as I watched the last of'em hobble up the stairs.
Once I was sure they were gone, I opened the lid of my barrel and made me way out. Dripping wet and reeking of pickles, I searched the area for another barrel. 'He's got to be somewhere around-' "Ah, 'ere we go," I sighed as I approached the snoring barrel in the corner. "Gibbs," no answer. I tried again with a light knock on the barrel's lid, "Gibbs? Wake up mate," I said as I opened the lid. Immediately I began coughing as the ill smell of eggs wafted from the barrel, but as Gibbs looked up and yawned, I began to wonder if it was really the eggs that I was making me eyes water.
"Ah, Jack," he yawned as he clumsily got out of the barrel. "I take it we've arrived?" he asked while plucking the remains of a smashed egg from his bottle and taking a long swig of its contents.
"Aye mate, indeed we have," I replied, patting him on the shoulder, only to shake more smashed eggs from my hand. Taking a final look around, we made our way to the ladder to the upper deck. The ship was completely vacant as it floated at the docks; from port to starboard not a one was present, but then, a sudden crash rattled the deck. Bravely, I crouched behind the nearest barrel, 'pickles again!?' and waited for the source of the commotion to approach. There was another crash and a loud grunt as Gibbs, tentatively rubbing his head, hauled a large sack up onto the deck. 'Ah, almost forgot our 'fleet'!' still waiting in the sack. "Good work Gibbs. We can free the Pearl once we reach Tort-"
"Huh- oh these aren't the ships," said Gibbs as he threw the large bag at me while he dragged up another burlap sack. "Here be our fleet," puzzled, I looked down at the black sack in my arms. I know, we only have one sack of bottled ships; unless this ship had its own sack of bottled ships this couldn't be another sack of bottled ships because our sack of bottled ships was the sack of bottled ships in Gibbs' hands... So what sack am I holding? Within seconds of holding the mystery sack, my questions were answered by the damp sensation of liquid and the heavenly and familiar scent that floated up from the sack… 'rum.'
"Yes," I sighed as I pulled out one of the bottles, its sweet contents trickling down my wrist. "Good work Gibbs." He smiled as I patted'em on the back and handed him a bottle. With both sacks tossed over our shoulders, we shared a toast before making our way off the ship. "Next stop-"
"Tortuga!"
Barbossa's POV:
The crisp mornin' air and the spray of the sea on my face. The billowing of wind in the sails and waves blasting against me ship as it raced across the sea. With the Sword of Triton at me side and the ship at my command, we set sail on our journey and ne'er looked back. Standing at the helm; staring down from the quarterdeck as the Godforsaken crew scurried about like filthy rats. "All hands! Ply to windward! Get cracking, ye bloomin' cockroaches! Let us be off and by the Gods of sea and sky! Make way for Tortuga!" Immediately the ship began to roar with the cheers of me crew as the fools resumed their duties. The sun on my face, I lowered me brow for a moment before raising it up and closing me eyes to let its light warm my face. Faint shadows of the mainsail and moonraker flickered in the light, but after a moment, the familiarity of the shadows began to fade- their place taken by the figures of people; the pounding of the wind in the sails, overtaken by the sounds of sniffles and arrhythmic breathing… two big green eyes- bold and shining like the apples in me quarters- staring into mine… flooding with tears. The cryptic breathing continues on… *Thump!* the sound of somethin' hittin' the floor. All is silent again under the warm sun until… "Huh!" at the screech of a gull I open me eyes. The shining glare in the sky was enough to make any man turn away for fear of going blind. Blinking wildly all I see are white flashes and those green eyes. Those apple-green-
"Captain Barbossa," the voice of me Cabin Boy. "We're approaching land Sir."
"Aye. All men to stations let'er flow straight and true!"
"Aye," they hollered in response as the Revenge continued on its path across the sea. With me enchanted blade I thrust the ship forward, into the growing cries of gulls and seabirds- the sign that we were approaching land. Barreling over the waves we continued; The Queen Anne's Revenge handling the rogue waves and current better than the Pearl ever had. Taking the helm, I noticed the reflection of light in me ring, not the first time it's happened; the sun always seems to follow items of value, further displaying the beauty of me stolen prizes. Looking ahead at the sea and its diminishing presence on the horizon brought a smile to me face.
"Tortuga," I sighed under the cover of my breath and the cries of sea birds. Me eyes fixed on the e'er approaching land ahead, I prepared to give me orders and dock the Revenge, when that blasted glare shot me in the eyes again. Naturally I winced, but upon returning my attention to the sea, my sights- still blurred by the bold shine of the sun- were directed to the chilling presence of blood, dark and thick- pouring down me arm and onto the deck at my feet! Black and cold, it gushed from my fist and engulfed my entire hand, tarnishing me ring with its ill color and stench, seeping into the helm's handles. Holding it to my face I looked further into the festering wound, studyin' its origins, trying to determine the cause of the rogue gash that had to've been responsible; but despite me best efforts I couldn't find any visible wound. No gash or stab anywhere; no burns or scars; nothing. 'How in Davy Jones…' releasing the helm I reached with me other hand to touch the bloodied phantom wound, but as me fingers made contact with the blackened blood engulfing my hand, I was blinded by another glare in me now filthy ring. Looking away until the light subsided, I felt my blood run cold when, upon turning my attentions back to my hand, I saw that injury was gone… leaving no sign of existence, not even a scar! Bewildered, I studied my hand a moment longer before warily returning my sights to the ship and the shore ahead. 'What type of hellish trickery be this?' rattled in my mind as we pulled into port and exited the ship. Despite no sign of the wound I couldn't direct me sights away from what was there, what I know I'd seen... In spite of the hootin' and jabberin' of me half-wit crew echoing around me, my thoughts remaind fixed on what I had just seen. The blood on my hand, not my own as I bore no wound or scar; the blood of... someone else on me hands.