(Disclaimer: Pintel and Ragetti don't belong to anybody but Disney.)

Just the Way it Should Be

Judging from his encounter with the pirate on the quarterdeck, Ragetti decided that being on this level of the ship was unsafe. However, after seeing two of the Scarborough crewmen barge downstairs—and considering the fact that he'd just spent the past forty-eight hours hiding in the dark behind a stack of gunpowder barrels—the boy also decided that he didn't want to go below deck again either. And so, he decided to take refuge in the only other part of the ship that was left. Finally reaching the Glass Urchin's starboard side, Ragetti hoisted himself up onto the rail and eagerly began clambering up his chosen pathway to safety: the ratlines.

Climbing the giant rope ladder was about as simple as it looked, and the skinny lad's natural limberness and relative weightlessness made it even easier. He practically flew up those interwoven lines like a spider monkey, but his thin legs slipped through the wide gaps a few times and slowed his pace. Even so, Ragetti found the feat exciting, and it sparked an incredible enthusiasm inside of him that he swore he'd never felt before; for the first time in his life, he was genuinely having fun.

That was the appeal of piracy: that sense of adventure and rebelliousness that every man secretly sought in life, placed within his reach for barely a price. It was that feeling of unlimited freedom that most men had to die for, but could now be achieved in life with just the help of a mast and eight sails. Piracy was a way of life that knew no limits; it was bound neither by law nor land, nor even the most basic human fear. And in Ragetti's case, he was all but defying the very laws of gravity by climbing those ratlines high above the deck. The boy grinned to himself as he stared at the men fighting far below him—it didn't really seem as bad from up here.

Then about halfway up to the crow's nest, he stopped his ascent. Ragetti clutched the ropes with his hands, sliding his legs through two of the rungs to let them dangle in the air, and then carefully lowered himself to sit securely on the ladder. He was going to save some freedom for later.

Safe at last, he continued to gaze down at the drama on deck.

----------------------------------------------------

"This way! Come on!"

Pintel squared his jaw as he picked up his pace. The Glass Urchin had been turned to the right somehow during the course of the fight, and was now facing the Vasudeva's Folly at an odd angle. This made for a battle charge that was over three times longer, as well as three times more treacherous. Rub and Ashby had joined in on the plot, and their band of five was starting to become more noticeable to the enemy pirates.

Rub's head snapped to the left. "Arrr!" Then he screeched to a stop and clashed swords with yet another opponent. In the end, he only had time to knock the man aside and run to catch up with the others. It would take all five of them and more to make Yager's plan work.

Finally, the group made it to the bow of their ship. Some of the rigging hung limply in front of them, conveniently cut loose from the masts by the variety of pistol shots and cutlasses that'd been rampaging about on board for the past ten minutes. Pintel teetered a little when he saw the huge watery gap between the two vessels. Swinging across it on those ratty severed ropes was going to be a long shot. Unfortunately, it was the only shot they had right now, and so it would have to do. The howl of more approaching battle cries only further prompted the five crewmen to act.

Wood was the first one to attempt the stunt. Following Yager's advice, he leapt straight up, catching the lowest rope in one hand, and tugged it down a little closer to the deck. Then he took a few wary steps back, and with a running start, he sprang wildly into the air. The other four all watched as the young man swung ungracefully over the waves and towards the other ship. But none of them would get to see if he made it.

Pintel glanced behind him just in time to see the horde coming. "Swords!" he shouted impulsively, and an instant later, he was caught in the scuffle once more. The sounds of more scraping blades behind him told the stocky pirate that his fellows were now in the same situation as well. Wood would have to hold his own for a while.

CLANG!

SLASH!

CLANG!

Swing here, stab there, jab this way, slash that way; Pintel was buried in combat again. It was no different than the position he'd been in five minutes ago, except that this time, he and his remaining three companions were being directly targeted. The Folly's crew could see that an attempt to board their ship was underway, and that knowledge seemed to fuel them even more in their attack. Pintel gritted his teeth and resumed fighting, lashing out randomly at the attackers surrounding him.

But no sooner had he set to this bleak task than a single adversary made his presence known to the short crewman. A tall, hostile figure forced his way onto the scene, shoving aside a clueless comrade in the process, and slammed his sword haltingly against Pintel's. The balding man froze and stared up at his disturber with startled recognition—he was looking at the same pirate who'd threatened him on Pilón.

Pintel grinned nervously. He had a feeling that his diversions weren't going to help him so much this time around. His taller opponent returned the grin more triumphantly, confirming that fear.

And then the fight picked up.

Before Pintel even had the chance to think, his enemy sent him stumbling backwards with a whirl of his sword. Then the taller pirate immediately made another advance, swinging his weapon sideways and clashing it against Pintel's barely ready blade. The confrontational stranger wasn't allowing his prey any time to plan ahead in this fight; it couldn't be risked with someone so wily.

Now it was Pintel's turn to attack. He lunged, but his foe saw the obvious move coming and easily dodged it. Pintel staggered for a second to regain his balance, then turned and attempted another charge with his sword raised. Again, the other man effortlessly avoided contact with the weapon, lightly knocking his own blade against it as he did so. He was taunting Pintel now, needlessly accenting the shorter pirate's failed attempts to strike him.

A flame of frustration sparked inside Robert Pintel when he realized this, and in his desperation, he lunged a third time with his pistol butt raised. But his frustration clouded his thoughts, and he paid a nasty price for it. The enemy pirate's arm shot forward, grabbing his attacker's pistol wrist and sharply yanking it sideways. Pintel's feet were completely jerked out from under him by the lightning-fast move, and he slammed into the nearby rail as he went down. His pistol flew from his hand.

His adversary cackled at what he'd done and eagerly swung his sword downwards. Pintel quickly blocked the blow, snarling at the other man as he staggered back up. The fight continued.

Five meters above them in the ratlines, Ragetti had resumed his climbing. The youngster had seen a stray gunshot blow apart the rigging by the rear of the ship, and he'd realized that he'd be a sitting duck if he stayed where he was for too long. Deciding to venture all the way up to the crow's nest, he began scaling the ropes again, glancing warily down at the men below him all the while.

Then he stopped.

Ragetti leaned forward, squinting. Two men were caught in a duel far below him on the other side of the mast. One was a tall figure with a permanent scowl on his face. The other one was Pintel.

The boy stared down at them, surprised. There was Pintel! He'd almost completely forgotten about the older man while he was running for cover! Pintel was practically right underneath him, and in the middle of another sword fight! For some reason, this excited Ragetti; he knew it shouldn't, as he still remembered the last words that his reluctant helper had spat at him, but the two had been separated in a dangerous place for too long, and now they'd finally found each other, more or less. Curious, the boy quickly began to climb down the ropes.

His companion was too preoccupied to notice. Pintel was gasping for breath, and every exhale was a loud and raspy blast of air that showed how aggravated he'd become. The enemy pirate looked virtually unfazed by the struggle, and he went on with his mocking by jabbing his cutlass forward a few times, faking another lunge. This went on for another moment until Pintel panicked and clumsily made the advance himself. It was an even worse mistake than last time.

The enemy pirate drew his cutlass up swiftly, and with just the right angle and timing, he knocked the gleaming weapon clear out of Pintel's grasp. An instant later, he swung the cutlass back, hitting his shorter opponent square in the chest with the base of the hilt. The shock and pain of the blow sent Pintel reeling backwards, and he fell hard onto the deck, unarmed. Gasping in pain, he opened his eyes and gazed up at his adversary. The other man flashed a hideous grin and raised his sword to finish it.

What happened next was almost too much to take in.

Ragetti didn't even think. He saw the fight and the two blows that the scowling man delivered. He saw Pintel fall, and he also saw that same scowling figure threateningly hold up his sword to end their battle for good. And then just like that, the message flashed on in Ragetti's head: this man was going to kill Pintel. This man was going to kill his uncle.

There was no other way to stop it. The boy was too high up to climb down in time, and he had no weapon of his own to throw at the stranger. There was nothing else Ragetti could do in the split second that he had to help Pintel, and so he did the only thing that he could.

He let go.

Pintel kept his eyes on his enemy just long enough to see the sword come down, and then he cringed…

WHUMPH!

There was a sickening jolt, followed by a shout from the other man, and Pintel suddenly heard a heavy metallic wobbling off to his left. Still wincing, he opened one eye and peered over to see the sword bobbing stiffly back and forth, stuck into the floorboards. Then he snapped out of his stupor and looked up at his foe again, only to receive an even bigger shock.

There was the threatening pirate, beet red in the face and staggering spastically about…with Ragetti on his back!

Pintel's eyes grew huge, dumbfounded. It couldn't be! Where did that kid come from? It was like he'd just appeared out of nowhere! Ragetti's arms were wrapped tightly around the angry man's neck, and he could see from the wild, darting terror in those bulging blue eyes that the boy had no idea what to do next.

That'd been enough to bring Pintel out of his second astonishment, and he frantically moved to help his uncanny rescuer. But when he tried to sit up, he was yanked back down just as quickly. Startled, he snapped his head around and discovered what was holding him back. Ragetti had succeeded in throwing off the attacker's aim, but his drop-down ambush hadn't been enough to keep the sword from pinning his friend's sleeve to the deck. Pintel wrapped his fingers around the hilt and anxiously tried to pull it free, looking back and forth from that weapon to the boy all the while.

Ragetti was holding on for dear life. The angry pirate's hands were clamped ferociously onto his thin arms, trying to wrench them away and throw the little nuisance off, but the lad's panic had given him a choking iron grip on the stranger. Ragetti wasn't really trying to strangle the man—in truth, he didn't even realize he had his arms around that filthy neck—but was simply too afraid of what would happen if he let go now. This Scarborough crewman was fuming; to Ragetti, being directly behind him was the best place to be right now.

But just as the terrified stowaway was thinking this, the enemy crewman caught sight of Pintel's lost sword lying nearby. He dove for the weapon, snatching it up and floundering to stay on his feet with his struggling burden. His face was growing redder by the second, and in turn, he was growing more and more enraged at the child who was throttling him—a demonic fury had seized him as he craned his neck to try and see his new rival. That dirty blonde head was right next to his, peering over his shoulder with wide eyes. The pirate bared his teeth, then forcing out a roar, he stood up straight, preparing himself, and grasped the recovered weapon firmly in his hand.

And then he wrenched his arm backwards, jamming the blade sharply over his shoulder as hard as he could.

Pintel heard the scream. It burst agonizingly into his ears, shattering the din around him and nearly sending him flying from his skin. He swore he'd never heard anything so horrifying before in his life. The shriek rang out for a single, unbearable second in time, and then just like that, it was gone. Silenced. Pintel spun around, pale with fright, just in time to see Ragetti fall limply from his enemy's back and onto the deck. And then he saw the blood.

And just like that, Robert Pintel snapped.

"NOOOOOO!"

The restraining sword was torn free, and the stocky man shot forward, colliding with his opponent before anymore harm could be done. The force of the impact violently threw both pirates forward and into the rail, where their struggle was savagely reborn. Pintel was completely doubled over, pinning his rival down and grappling for his stolen sword like a madman. But the enemy pirate refused to surrender the weapon, and kicked at the shorter crewman's shins in a vain attempt to ward him off. Finally, the blazing rage and blinding hatred reached their exploding point, and in a moment of unnatural strength, Pintel tore the other man clear off of his feet and threw him into the mast. He twisted the sword downward as he pulled the feat, and as soon as he slammed that red-faced monster against the giant wooden post, he jerked the blade down and into his wrenched gut.

Pintel didn't even give a thought to his victory—he was beyond thinking now. Ragetti lay slumped in a heap a short distance away, and seeing him, the balding man raced towards him.

Another pirate came at them then—an enemy. Two heartbeats later, Pintel had torn him down as well. He was standing over Ragetti, guarding him, protecting him, but not knowing if it mattered. Rage. All he knew now was rage. Then suddenly, Pintel saw somebody that he recognized.

Rub and Ashby came tearing over to him, and reached out to grab his arms without so much as a word of explanation. Pintel screamed, trying to pull his arms free, but he was outnumbered. They were dragging him away from Ragetti.

"No! NO!" he bellowed, kicking his legs off the floor. "Lemme go! Lemme go you lousy sots!"

"Save it for Scarborough!" Rub shouted back. "We've gotta get onto the Folly!"

But Pintel wasn't hearing any of it. "Lemme go! Get off me, I've gotta 'elp 'im! He's still alive! He ain't dead! I can see 'im movin'! He's movin'! He ain't dead!"

It was a lie. Ragetti was absolutely motionless, lying on his side in the slowly growing pool of blood, completely ignored by the rest of the crew. Completely forgotten by the rest of the world.

"He ain't dead! He ain't dead! Lemme go or I'll stove your 'eads in! I'll kill yeh! HE AIN'T DEAD!"

Another attacker flew at the three just then, wielding an iron fire poker. Rub and Ashby, still with their senses, saw the ugly tool swinging towards them and were able to dodge it in time, but Pintel took the blunt bottom end of it against the side of his head, and he plummeted from his comrade's grasps like a lifeless hulk. The last thing he remembered was the sound of a scream, echoing painfully and chillingly in his spinning, upside-down memory.

And then everything went black.

--

--