Monica's smile faded as she caught up to the three pirates. Barbossa, hearing her steps, turned around, but a sour look crossed his face as he noticed the teenager walking behind him. Monica didn't see this, being too preoccupied with her own thoughts.
As the four of them trudged up the path to the square of Tortuga, Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti muttered to each other, leaving Monica panting behind.
"Oh, sure, leave me out of the loop," she huffed, casting an angry look at Barbossa. He ignored her.
Monica rolled her eyes and looked around. It was late afternoon, and people were already beginning to get rowdy. Everywhere she looked, she saw people with bottles in their hands, their speech getting louder and more slurred with every drink.
Good ol' Tortuga, she thought, smirking. Now there's one thing I can count on to be the same as last time.
Thinking this, Monica became more serious, thinking about the last time she had been here and what had been different. She remembered walking up this same path with Jack, discussing what "spaz" meant.
Whoa, that was weird, she thought, smiling wistfully at the memory. Did he ever really get it? Yes, I think so...
Suddenly there was a burning in her eyes. Surprised, she nearly stopped short.
What the... she thought, blinking rapidly. Are those…tears?
She frowned, suddenly embarrassed. She realized she had almost cried when thinking of Jack.
She rolled her eyes, this time trying to dry the tears in her eyes. Swallowing hard, she rubbed her eyes, having to slow down as she walked.
This time Barbossa noticed. He turned around to see Monica walking slowly, massaging her eyelids with her fingertips.
"Something the matter, Miss Connors?" he asked suspiciously, stopping.
Monica jerked her hands away from her face, surprised. "No," she said quickly, blinking furiously. "Why would there be?"
The three pirates stared at her. She glanced at each one of them in turn, pretending to be bewildered.
"Right," she muttered, walking on ahead, gently nudging Ragetti out of her way with her elbow.
Barbossa stared after her, his eyes narrowed. After a moment, he continued up the path, shaking his head slightly. Pintel and Ragetti exchanged confused looks, then followed.
When the group reached the square, they found many brawls taking place, as well as an excessive amount of drinking going on.
Which was to be expected, Monica thought, stepping to the side to avoid a bottle being thrown at her.
She glanced at Barbossa, who was surveying the scene. His expression was unreadable.
Then a smile broke across his face.
"I haven't been here in years," he murmured, his smile growing broader. He grinned at Pintel and Ragetti. "Gents, I take it you have some business to attend to?"
The two of them grinned at each other and nodded at their captain, who smirked back.
"Uh, guys?" Monica said tentatively, raising her voice against all the yelling that was going on in the square.
Their heads snapped around to look at the girl. Apparently, they had almost forgotten she was there.
"What's going on?" Monica asked, smiling weakly. "I mean…are we gonna get a ship, weapons, rum, what?" She gave a smile that looked more like a grimace, showing her anxiety about being stuck in Tortuga with three pirates.
"Miss Connors, we've not been able to eat, drink, or feel in years," Barbossa said, moving closer to Monica so they wouldn't be overheard.
"But, Pintel and Ragetti have—" Monica began, but Barbossa interrupted her.
"Well, they haven't had much time for enjoying their earthly abilities while they were on some grand adventure," Barbossa said, smirking. "And as for me…well, it's been even longer, and I've only just come back."
He laughed, and Pintel and Ragetti joined in heartily. Monica just frowned at them incredulously.
"So, uh…am I invited to this little party?" she asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
Barbossa chuckled and put an arm around her shoulder, shaking her gently like she was an old friend. Monica's frowned and her eyes widened, giving her a look of disgusted alarm.
"Now, now, Miss Connors—" he began.
"Please, call me Monica," Monica choked, turning away from Barbossa's bad breath.
Geez, has he brushed his teeth since he was cursed? she thought disgustedly. Look at them; they're about to fall out!
"Monica," he continued, smiling. "I don't think you would want to come along on our little trip. And, quite frankly, I don't think any of us want you around, either."
"Fine with me," Monica muttered. "But what am I supposed to do?"
"Go to one of the taverns," Barbossa instructed. "See if you can find word of a small ship coming into port."
Monica nodded, hoping he would release his grip on her.
"Good!" He finally dropped his arm. Monica edged away, faking a smile.
"Oh, what about money?" she asked quickly. "How will I get weapons and food?"
Barbossa gave her a condescending look. "Are you a pirate or aren't ya?" he asked, smirking.
"Ah," she said, arching an eyebrow and nodding slightly. I should've known… She plastered a cheery smile on her face. "Well…have a good night!"
Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti turned and went the opposite direction, disappearing into an overflowing pub.
As soon as they were gone, Monica's smile transformed into a grimace, and she let out a loud moan.
"What the hell does he think he's doing!" she muttered angrily to herself, walking further into the square. "We've got to find Jack…"
But this was only one of her worries. How would she find them again? What if they just left her stranded? Would she be able to find her sisters again, too? What if they did come back, and decided not to help her at all?
Monica sighed as she walked, looking gloomily around at the drunks around her.
Well, at least they're happy, she thought sullenly, her eyes lingering on a woman who was drinking deeply from a mug she had just stolen from a man who had passed out against a large barrel.
Her eyes shifted around the square. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, anything to get her motivated, a clue or something—
"Oh, no," she breathed, staring ahead of her.
She had spotted Giselle lingering in front of one of the shops, turning on the charm for a middle-aged drunkard. Unfortunately, Giselle had spotted her, too.
SHIT! Monica thought, grimacing and turning away slowly, raising a hand to block her face from the woman.
But someone grabbed her arm.
Monica looked up slowly, dreading confrontation with the woman. But it wasn't a woman. It was a drunk guy, about 30 years old.
"What the--!" Monica wrenched her arm away, disgruntled. She turned, but the man seized her hand.
"Hey, watch it, Bozo, I'm walkin' here!" she yelled angrily, but he didn't let go, just stared at her with glazed over eyes. Monica tried to jerk her hand away, but the man only tightened his grip, chuckling with delight. Monica rolled her eyes and looked around, knowing the guy wasn't going anywhere soon.
Finally, she saw her opportunity. An old drunk man walked past here, waving a thick wooden cane in his hand and talking to no one in particular. Monica seized the cane. Luckily, the old guy didn't even miss it.
Monica promptly cracked the cane over her assailant's head. He was knocked out immediately, probably from a combination of rum and the blow to his head.
Monica wrenched her hand away and tossed the cane to it, twirling it happily for a bit, trying to look calm. But that guy rattled her pretty badly. She had had experiences with drunks in Tortuga, and not all of them were the drink-till-ya-drop type. Some were the drink-and-make-others-drop kind.
"Sparrow?"
Monica nearly dropped the cane, but straightened up immediately after feigning a cough. She turned around, trying to look nonchalant.
But her face quickly paled—Giselle was standing before her, her hands on her hips.
"Uh…" Monica said stupidly. Fortunately, she was spared answering by another woman appearing at Giselle's side.
Well, if you can call that fortunate, Monica thought grimly, gripping the cane nervously. That's Scarlett, isn't it!
"This is Jack's daughter?" the redhead asked, obviously unimpressed.
Giselle nodded. "Not much to look at, is she?" she said snootily, glaring at Monica, who gave her a mollified look.
"Whoa, no need for that," she said cautiously, raising her hands to her chest in defense. "Can I help you?" she asked politely, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.
"Where's your father?" Giselle asked, sneering at Monica.
"He's dead," Monica said honestly.
The two women were quite taken aback. They stared at Monica, wondering if she was joking.
"Uh…sorry," Monica said lamely, turning around, leaving Giselle and Scarlett standing in the street, stunned.
How many encounters am I gonna have here before I leave? Monica thought, heading down the square. Hopefully, not too many more…I know I'm popular, but geez!
Smirking to herself, she looked around at the shops, wondering where to find weapons. Finally, she spotted a blacksmith's shop. Reminded of Will, she smiled to herself, and entered.
She opened the door, wincing as it squeaked on its rusty hinges. Shutting it softly behind her, she walked down the dusty stone steps into the room, exploring the place with her eyes.
It was much like the one Will worked at, with the furnace, wooden machines, and swords hanging everywhere, but, to Monica's dismay…
"There's no donkey!" she breathed, disappointed.
She heard a soft clunk. Alarmed, she froze, glancing around wildly, but she saw no movement. She began to creep cautiously to where she thought the sound had come from—in one of the back rooms—but stopped, deciding to take a sword.
Just in case, she thought, lifting one gently off its holder on one of the wooden machines. Feeling a little braver, she made her way to the door, swallowing hard.
When she reached it, she took a deep breath and tried to slow her heartbeat.
It's probably nothing, she thought, taking the handle. Why am I getting so worked up about this? So I heard a little clunk, that doesn't mean there'll be a horde of pirates waiting on the other side of the door, ready to run me through with their sharp, rusty swords—
She stopped before she could freak herself out any more. Inhaling deeply, she turned the handle and swung the door open.
She brandished the sword, looking around wildly, and saw…
…a drunk guy.
Dropping her sword, she let out a long breath. Feeling like an idiot, she shook her head, breathing heavily.
Of course there's gonna be a drunk dude, she thought furiously. I'm in freakin' Tortuga!
Still angry with herself and her rattled wits, she studied the man. He was an older guy, overweight, dirty, and unshaven. He was sound asleep, his head resting on his arm, which was stretched out on the table he sat at in his rickety wooden chair.
Yep, pretty much like Mr. Brown, she thought, allowing a shaky smile to come to her lips.
I'm so ridiculous, she thought, glancing around. One little noise and I freak out…
She noticed a bottle on the ground, and figured this must have made the clunk when it had rolled out of the blacksmith's hand and off the table.
Should I wake him up? she thought worriedly. I need to buy a sword…
Wait, no I don't, she thought quickly. I'm a freakin' pirate! I don't need to buy anything!
Grinning, she crept out of the room, shutting the door gently, not wanting to wake the man. She strode into the sword room, eyes scanning the room for her ideal weapon.
She spotted it almost immediately. It was hanging a few spots away from the place where she had taken the first sword.
Now hanging the originally back in its place, she moved to the side, eyeing the sword intently. It was like the one she had had last time; that was why she had noticed it.
Yes, it was very like her old one…in fact…
Monica's jaw dropped. What the hell is my sword doing here! she thought, utterly bewildered.
She grabbed it from its hook, slid her hand into the hilt, and waved it around a bit. Yep, there was no doubt about it—this sword was definitely she same one she had had last time.
How did it get here? Monica thought, flabbergasted. I guess Jack must have taken my weapons…but how did they end up here? Did he bring them here? And if this is here, what about my other stuff?
With that, she glanced around the room, as if looking for a sign saying "Monica Connors' Weapons" like in a museum. Seeing nothing, she walked around the room slowly, her eyes searching it, her feet kicking up dust.
She searched in a chest of drawers she found on the other side of the room. In the last drawer, she found her two belts, still hooked together—even the knife she had barely used was in its sheath!
Monica stared at it, confused. Jack must have brought them here, she thought, oddly numb. But why?
She stood slowly, picking up her belts. Thinking intently, she strapped them on, staring at the chest, but seeing nothing. She stuck her sword in the sheath, remembering the feel of it against her leg.
And
I thought getting transported to a Pirates world was weird, she
thought wonderingly. Now I'm all freaked out about a familiar set
of weapons…
Suddenly, she heard a series of groans coming from
the back room, cutting her thoughts short. Without stopping to think,
she darted across the room, flung the door open, and ran out of the
shop.
She jumped as the door slammed shut behind her. Luckily, no one had noticed her, so she didn't have to worry about being accused of stealing. She walked quickly away from the shop, trying to look innocent.
It was starting to get dark. She decided to head to a tavern to get a move on finding a ship.
Monica kept going in the same direction, not exactly sure where she was going, but determined to get there all the same. Then, her surroundings began to become more familiar.
She spotted the tall water pump she had used in a fight last time she was here. She smiled wistfully as she remembered spraying Troy's eyes with mud and smacking his head with her mug. She walked on, smirking to herself, reminiscing about her tendencies to hit people in the head with things.
Let's see, there's a mug, a rock, a bottle, a stone, a melon, and a cane… she thought, mentally ticking the list off on her fingers. Wow, I hardly did any fighting; I just knocked people out and pissed them off…
Monica shook herself as she recognized the inn she and Jack had stayed in last time. Of course, that had led her to get kidnapped, but that wasn't the point.
Maybe someone in there will have some information, she thought, walking up to it.
When she entered, Monica realized it hadn't changed much from when she had stayed here. It was still pretty much a dump, with its rotting furniture and dim lanterns, but Monica was relieved to see a throng of people inside, something it had been lacking last time.
She moved around the edge of the room, smiling and nodding at the patrons who stared at her. Most of them were seated at the small tables, playing cards or just drinking.
Monica took an empty spot in the corner, pulling the chair back to the wall. She plopped down and propped her legs up on the table, stretching them out and groaning. She got a few funny looks, but that was about it.
Once she was settled in, Monica strained her ears to try to pick up some of the conversation, but it was to no avail. The patrons of the inn were talking quietly. They were a good deal less rowdy than the crowd one would normally find in a tavern. Hell, there wasn't even a fight going on at the moment.
After a few minutes of nothing, Monica gave it up as a bad job. She swung her legs off the table, nearly falling out of her chair in the process. She stood up quickly, trying to keep her dignity, and strode out of the inn.
When she was outside, she noticed that night had almost completely fallen, and the streets were barely glowing from a few lampposts here and there. Monica walked down the street, disappointed.
I've been to two places already, and I've found nothing out, she thought dejectedly. She started kicking a bottle as she walked, watching it gather dust and grit on its green glass surface. Suddenly, someone ran across her path, scooping up the bottle before she could give it another kick.
Monica raised her eyebrows. "Desperate much?" she muttered, looking up to take in her surroundings.
"Ah!" she said, pleased. "The ol' tavern!"
To her right was the tavern she, Jack, and Gibbs had entered, where Jack had met with the Indian men who later tried to steal the Pearl. And, of course, she had pissed off a huge man who later helped in her kidnapping.
"Funny ol' world, isn't it?" she said softly, entering the tavern.
Now here was something she was used to. There were about ten brawls going on at once, bottles flying everywhere, and much slurred yells.
Monica pushed her way to the bar, careful not to touch anyone for too long—the people here had incredible tempers, as she had learned last time.
She sat heavily on a stool, groaning slightly. No one made any protests to a fifteen-year-old girl at a bar, mingling with drunks.
Monica placed her elbows on the bar and put her face in her hands, weary from the long day. She wasn't able to relax for long, however—every other second there was someone bowling into her, slamming someone else onto the bar next to her, or trying to pull the stool out from under her to smash someone over the head with it. Once, a young man had come sliding down the length of the bar, thrown by the husband of the woman he was hitting on.
When he was out of the way, Monica set her elbows back on the bar and listened to all the complaints against spilled drinks.
"Blast! Can't a man get a drink around here?" an angry voice slurred to her left. "Christ, I'm only here two days, can't I relax?"
Monica tensed, sensing an opportunity. "Only two days?" she asked the man without pausing to think.
The man nodded, tapping the bar impatiently. "Yeah, it's only me and a few friends," he muttered, not registering who he was talking to.
"Must be a small ship," Monica commented, turning to the man. He was young, probably only somewhere around twenty-five, but rum and the sea had aged him. His light brown curly hair was flying out from the sides of a tattered blue tricorn, which looked older than he was. His jacket, also old and blue, was caked with mud and dirt.
The man nodded again, making a "fsh" noise. "It's hell," he growled. "Not enough room."
"Tell me more," Monica said, grinning. She slid him a bottle that had landed next to her on the bar. Luckily, it was still pretty full.
He seized it and took a swig before continuing. "'scalled the Rolly Joger."
"The Jolly Roger?" Monica asked, grinning.
"That's it!" the man exclaimed, taking another drink.
"And it's docked in this port, right?" Monica said quickly, afraid he would pass out before she could get the information she needed.
"Yeah." He belched, and Monica winced.
"Uh…so how many can sail it?" she asked, wanting to get out of the line of fire in case he blew again.
"Four, five," he grunted, swaying on his seat. "Why you wanna know, anyway…"
He toppled off the stool, completely hammered. He slumped against Monica's stool, the now empty bottle sliding out of his hand and onto the floor. Monica stared at him, then grinned.
"Just makes my job that much easier!" she said happily. "Thanks, buddy," she muttered, patting him on the head.
Now, I just need to find Barbossa, she thought, scanning the tavern. Is there any chance he's here?
After a few minutes, she gave up and turned back to face the bar. A plate was slid in front of her.
Monica looked up, surprised. That wasn't the random slide of a drunk; someone sober had done it. And she thought she was the only sober one in there.
Barbossa was standing next to her. She jumped violently, nearly falling off the stool.
"Geez!" she yelped, gripping the bar with both hands. "Don't—sneak up on me like that!"
Barbossa chuckled and pulled the guy to her right off his stool and taking his place.
"Where are Pintel and Ragetti?" Monica asked, trying to slow her breathing.
"Oh, they're here...somewhere," Barbossa said, frowning. "Find anything out?" he asked, grabbing a bottle from his neighbor, uncorking it with his yellow teeth, spitting out the cork, and taking a swig.
"Oh, yeah," Monica said quickly. "There's a small ship here called the Jolly Roger that's able to be crewed by four people. The guy's passed out already, so we should take it soon."
Barbossa nodded, looking pleased. Monica smiled to herself, happy she had been of some use.
"So where have you been?" Monica asked, tapping her hands on the bar. "Out painting the town, I'm sure…"
"Everywhere," Barbossa said, grinning. "You don't want to know."
"Okay, I'll take your word for it," Monica grumbled. She had a pretty good idea how he had spent his night.
"Did you eat anything?" Barbossa asked.
"No," Monica said, realizing how hungry she was. "Thanks," she said, embarrassed. She took the plate before it could be snatched away and dug in, ignoring the dirt on the fork and knife. She started sawing through a thick steak, her mouth watering.
"Sure didn't have anything like this last time I was here," she muttered before taking a bite.
"Yes, about that," Barbossa said, looking amused.
Monica stopped with the fork in her mouth, giving a sidelong glance to Barbossa. "Yes?" she asked after she swallowed.
"How did you get here?" he asked curiously. "I still don't understand."
"You won't," Monica assured him. "Just know that I'm here."
"Yes, that's hard not to know," he muttered. Monica shot him a dark look.
"Well, you're stuck with me, so you better get used to it," she said gruffly, shoveling mashed potatoes into her mouth.
"I have noticed you've been a bit less...cheerful since we left the rest of the group," Barbossa said, watching Monica as she ate. "Is there a reason for this? Are ya not happy with me and my crew?"
"No…" Monica said slowly, thinking as she chewed. When she swallowed, she said calmly, "I was obnoxious before, I know that. But that was because my sisters were there. I had to act normal so they wouldn't freak out…but I was a little worse that normal, I think," she said, frowning. She shook her head slightly. "Anyway, they know me as being happy and cheerful and making jokes all the time, not as being serious. And I'm serious about finding Jack. I tried to act like this will be some great adventure, even thought I know it'll be different. It's stupid, but…I had to be brave for them," she finished.
Barbossa nodded. "And who are you being brave for now?" he asked softly.
Monica stared at her food. When she didn't answer, Barbossa stood up and left. Before she could protest, he was lost in the throng of drunks, no doubt looking for Pintel and Ragetti, probably starting a fight or two.
Monica blinked, then shook her head. "Freakin' Geoffrey Rush," she muttered to herself. She turned back to her food, remembering Ned Kelly in which he and Orlando Bloom had starred. Chuckling to herself, she continued eating.
When she was done, the plate was immediately snatched away, which didn't surprise Monica at all. Bored, she turned around on her stool and looked around the room.
Is Barbossa even gonna come back? she wondered, lazily watching a big woman punch out two men. He's not exactly that great at giving plans. I guess I should go find him to find out what we're doing.
She hopped off her stool and made her way through the crowd, looking around for any sign of her pirate "friends." She didn't have to travel far, though—she saw Barbossa in the middle of the room, his sword drawn, laughing and fighting with many different people at once.
Monica stared incredulously. What the hell is he doing! she thought angrily. We have to go get that ship!
She pushed her way through the throng, edging closer to Barbossa. When she was almost to him, her foot caught the foot of someone else and she tripped, falling flat on her face.
She groaned and sat up, just in time to see Barbossa swinging his sword at her.
She rolled out of the way, too shocked to think. She glared up at Barbossa, who had obviously just now realized his mistake.
"Sorry!" he said, grabbing her arm and yanking her up. Monica was surprised to see how…happy he looked.
Happy Barbossa? she thought incredulously, watching as he knocked someone over the head with the hilt of his sword. That's…kinda creepy.
"Draw your sword, Monica, and help me out here!" Barbossa said, grinning and displaying his yellow teeth.
"What!" Monica exclaimed angrily. "Why? What's the point!"
"There is none!" Barbossa replied, grinning. He grabbed Monica's sword out of its sheath and tossed it to her. She caught it, surprised, but immediately swung it around to block the sword of a drunken young man coming towards her.
Monica and Barbossa stood back to back, their swords pointed at the crowd around them. Then, the group of drunks yelled incoherently and attacked.
Once she started fighting, she soon realized, there was no end to it. The more she fought off the attackers, the more came to…well…attack.
Monica was worried that her swordplay wouldn't be up to par, since she hadn't handled one in about a month, but once she started fighting, she found that it was rather like relearning an old, familiar dance routine. She dodged, dipped, ducked, dived, and dodged. If she could dodge a sword, she could surely dodge a punch.
Or not.
When Monica turned around to block another blow coming at her from behind, she was caught off balance, and she threw out her sword hand to steady herself, leaving her wide open for attack. A fist came sailing at her face, making contact with her eye and sending her keeling backwards.
"Argh!" she yelled, more angry than hurt, more surprised than angry. Her hands flew to her face, but she quickly dropped them to fling her sword out at whoever had hit her.
She heard Barbossa laughing behind her. She turned around, embarrassed, to face him.
He only laughed harder when he saw her red eye. "Having some trouble there?" he asked mockingly.
"You could say that," Monica muttered, touching her swollen eyelid gingerly. "Now can we get out of here before something worse happens?"
Barbossa nodded, still amused, and pushed his way out of the crowd. Monica followed, grumbling to herself.
"Frickin' Barbossa, getting me into a bar fight…what does he think he's doing? How much more time is he gonna waste?" she muttered, keeping close behind him.
Finally, they reached the door of the tavern and walked out into the lively street. The dim lanterns cast odd-looking shadows across the happy-go-lucky drunks who inhabited this area. The sounds of drunken yells could be heard across the street, and, if you were lucky, you could hear a novice drinker seeing his lunch again.
Pintel and Ragetti were waiting outside the door, surrounded by sacks of food. Monica smiled weakly at them, her eye stinging as her cheeks swelled.
"What happened to you?" Ragetti asked, grinning.
"What does it look like?" Monica growled, immediately turning sour. Monica turned to Barbossa at Ragetti's surprised look.
"What now?" she said disdainfully, crossing her arms. "Are we gonna go after Jack, or spend some more time on this rock?"
Barbossa chuckled. "I suppose we can leave…do we have everything we need?"
"We got the food," Pintel said helpfully, picking up one of the sacks.
"Yes, I know that," Barbossa said impatiently, rolling his eyes. "Did you get your weapons?" he asked, turning to Monica.
She nodded silently, squinting through her swollen eye. She didn't feel like mentioning the fact that she somehow had the same weapons she had had last time.
"Good! I think we're ready," Barbossa said. "Monica's found word of a small ship in the docks. We should leave now to get it."
"Are you sure? Because I wouldn't want you to forget beating up a drunk for the fun of it or something," Monica said, managing to keep a straight face.
Barbossa ignored her. "Let's load these on the ship, then," he said, picking up two of the sacks.
"What if the guy who owns it is there?" Monica asked, picking up a sack that seemed to be full of apples.
The three pirates just looked at each other and laughed.
"Oh," Monica said. "That."
The three men each took some of the heavier sacks, leaving Monica with the smaller ones. They started walking down the street with ease, not stopping to wait. Monica huffed, straining to pick up the sacks. She was quite weak from doing nothing strenuous over the summer since she had worked on the Pearl.
She stumped after them, concentrating on not dropping the sacks. She had to stop many times, however, to get a good grip on them.
A while later, the group was finally at the docks. Monica dropped her sacks gratefully, peering around the dim area.
"Which one's our ship?" Pintel asked Barbossa after putting his sacks down on the wooden dock.
"The Rolly Joger," Monica panted, remembering the guy in the tavern. "Oops—I mean the Jolly Roger, she said quickly, embarrassed. "Just look for one of the smaller ones, I guess."
Barbossa, Pintel, Ragetti, and Monica made their way down the docks, leaving the sacks behind, thinking they would return when they found the ship, which didn't take long.
"There it is!" Monica exclaimed, pointing to a small ship docked not too far from where they were standing. She could just make out The Jolly Roger painted on its hull in a curly black script.
"Think it's a pirate ship?" Pintel asked Barbossa, whose eyes were sweeping the ship intently.
"Nah, I think it's just an uncreative name," Monica said seriously.
Barbossa started towards the ship, the rest of the group following quickly. Fortunately, there was a rope ladder that fell to the docks, making it easy for anyone to climb aboard the ship.
"Ladies first," Barbossa said, sneering at Monica.
"Ragetti, you heard him," she said without missing a beat. "You're first,"
The pirates stared at her.
"Oh, come on, it's just a joke," she said lamely, smiling sheepishly. When no one replied, she shook her head.
"Geez, get a sense of humor…alright, I'll go!" she said as Barbossa gave her a menacing look.
She started up the ladder, afraid it wouldn't hold her weight. It did, however, and she climbed up the side of the small ship, looking down nervously every couple of rungs.
When she finally reached the top, she swung a leg over the side of the ship to pull herself over. Her pant leg caught on a loose nail. She struggled to get it loose, tugging at it roughly. When it finally came free, she realized how off-balance the tugging had made her, and promptly fell to the deck of the ship.
"Oof!" She sat up, furious with herself for being so clumsy.
"Everything alright up there?" she heard Barbossa's voice call.
"Yeah, I'm good," Monica called down, standing up. "You can come up now."
She turned around to see a man bowling towards her.
She gasped and moved to the side, and the man ran into the side of the ship. He drew his sword immediately, pointing it at Monica.
"Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa," she exclaimed, backing up. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was here," she said lamely.
"Who are you?" the man snarled. Monica recognized the slur of a drunk, all too common in these parts.
"Uh…room service?" she asked, smiling sheepishly and shrugging.
The man roared and lunged at her. Grimacing, Monica drew her sword and blocked his blow, which had come too close for comfort to her stomach. She forced him back, sending him falling backwards onto the deck, more a result of the rum he had undoubtedly been drinking than her shove.
"Uh, guys, a little help up here!" Monica called down the side of the ship as the man stood up, swaying slightly. When he was steady, he made another run for Monica, who was still standing at the side of the ship. As he ran for her, she stuck out her foot into his path. This time, it was his turn to fall flat on his face.
She darted out of the way as he swung his sword at her legs as he lay on the ground. "Have a nice trip?" she asked sweetly, feeling a bit cocky. This feeling quickly left as the man rolled over suddenly, attempting to slice her feet off.
At that moment, Barbossa jumped up over the side of the ship, drawing his pistol. Without warning, he shot the man in the back.
Monica froze, shocked. He was dead. She looked up at Barbossa, who was putting up his pistol as if nothing had happened.
"You all right?" he asked nonchalantly.
Monica nodded numbly. Why am I so shocked? she thought, slowly sheathing her sword. He's a pirate; that's what they do.
But he just killed a man, a voice protested in her head.
Yeah, a man that was trying to kill you, the first voice said. Just pretend it never happened.
Monica came out of her reverie as Pintel and Ragetti climbed aboard, swords drawn.
"There'll be no need for those, gents, he's already dead," Barbossa said.
The two pirates nodded and sheathed their swords. Barbossa glanced around the ship, surveying it with his eyes.
It was pretty much like the Pearl, except on a smaller scale and brown instead of black. The captain's quarters were under the helm, which was led up to by two sets of stairs on either side of the room. There was a trapdoor leading below deck. The mast was thick and tall, tangled in a web of ropes, and the white sails were down, barely moving with the gentle rocking of the boat and the breeze that picked up every now and then.
"You two get the supplies. We'll clear the ship." Barbossa said to Pintel and Ragetti, who nodded and descended the ladder.
Barbossa started without a word. He made his way to the captain's quarters and kicked the doors opened. Monica followed cautiously, casting a last look to the man Barbossa had killed.
There was no one in the room, but there were lots of supplies, maps, and rum, which Monica could tell pleased Barbossa. When he was done searching the room, Barbossa left and made his way to the trapdoor. He lifted the door easily and descended the steps.
Monica was about to follow when she heard panting behind her.
"Oy! A little help here!" Pintel yelled.
Monica turned to see him struggling to haul a sack up the ladder. She hurried over, grabbed the sack, and set it on the deck.
"Where's the captain?" Pintel asked, still breathing hard from carrying the heavy sack of food.
"Below deck," Monica replied. "I think he's looking for more—"
They heard a muffled gunshot.
"—people," Monica finished, her face paling.
A few moments later, Barbossa came up the steps and out of the open trapdoor, hauling a body with him. He dragged it next to the other man and dropped it there unceremoniously.
Monica stared at the two bodies, beginning to feel a little bit sick. Barbossa nodded at Pintel.
"Dump these," he said, turning around and going back down below deck.
Monica moved mutely out of the way as Pintel climbed aboard and seized the first man's body by the arms. He dragged it to the port side of the ship, hefted it up, and tossed it overboard.
Monica flinched as she heard the body hit the water below. She turned away when Pintel came back for the other one.
While Pintel was busy with his job, Barbossa returned. "No one else," was all he said to Monica, who nodded grimly, trying not to think about what he had done to the two men.
Pintel and Ragetti loaded up the food. Barbossa started searching through the sacks, appearing to be looking for something. Eventually he found what he wanted—what looked like a clump of black cloth.
Monica watched as he pulled the heavy cloth from its sack and dragged it to the mast. He lowered the white sails and cut them from their hangings with his sword. Then, he started cutting holes into the black cloth, and Monica realized he was making sails—black sails, to indicate a pirate ship.
When he was done with that and Pintel and Ragetti were done loading up the supplies, Barbossa started barking orders, telling his makeshift crew of two miscreants and a fifteen-year-old girl to heave the sails as he took the helm.
Monica was busy helping Ragetti haul the sails up when she heard shouts from the docks. They looked at each other curiously and went to the side of the ship to investigate.
On the docks was the man Monica had gotten drunk and another man she didn't recognize, probably the last member of the small crew. They were yelling drunkenly, waving their arms as if sure this would get the pirates off their ship.
Barbossa noticed the two men, strode to the side of the ship, and opened fire. The two men followed suit, their bullets whizzing in random directions due to their impaired judgment.
Monica ducked as the men shot at them. Next to her, she heard a yelp as Ragetti jumped.
"Me eye!" he howled, his hands covering his false one. When he moved them away, Monica saw that a bullet had pierced it, and was lodged in there pretty tight.
Horrified, Monica gasped. Ragetti popped his fake eye out of the socket, ducked and crouched next to Monica, and tried to pull the bullet out of it. When his fingers wouldn't do the job, he grasped the bullet with his teeth and yanked it out.
Monica heard screams from the two men and stood up cautiously. They had wasted their bullets, hitting nothing but Ragetti's eye, and now they were unarmed. Barbossa took advantage of this and shot one man, then the other.
Suddenly, a strong wind picked up.
"You idiots, get the sails up!" Barbossa yelled.
Monica and Ragetti raced to the mast to heave the ropes that hauled up the sails. They heard more yelling below, and Monica guessed someone had noticed the pirates who had commandeered the small ship and killed its crew.
When the black sails were up, the Jolly Roger began to slowly move out of the docks and into the open ocean. Monica leaned against the mast, panting from the effort of heaving the sails and her shock at what Barbossa had just done. No matter how much time she spent around him, she knew she would never get used to his killing people.
Monica moved to the side of the ship as it sailed, enjoying the feel of the wind on her face. It teased her hair as she rested her arms on the side of the ship and breathed deeply. Then, a rather strong burst of wind hit her, throwing her loose hair into her face. She spluttered, trying to get the hair out of her eyes and mouth, furious that her peaceful moment had been screwed up.
"Having trouble?" Barbossa asked.
Monica nearly choked on her own hair. She pulled it out of her face and turned to face him, her face turning red.
Barbossa chuckled and stood next to her, looking out to the sea.
"Shouldn't you be captaining or something?" Monica grumbled. She raised a hand to move her hair out of her face again, as the wind had blown it another time. As she brushed it out of the way, she accidentally poked the eye that had been punched. She jumped and swore softly.
"Well, I would, but I don't know where I'm going," Barbossa said smoothly, acting as if he hadn't noticed her frustration.
"What!" Monica exclaimed, her temper getting the best of her. "You're supposed to help find Jack! How the hell can you not know where you're going!" she yelled furiously.
Barbossa shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't have to find Jack," he said calmly. "Perhaps I'll just take advantage of being alive again and forget about this whole ordeal."
"You wouldn't be alive for long, buddy," Monica growled, placing a hand on the hilt of her sword.
Barbossa smiled at her, amused. "For someone so strange, you do have a lot of spirit," he said, watching Monica steadily as she glared at him.
"Yeah, well, I just want to find him, that's all," she muttered, turning away.
"Mm-hmm." Barbossa looked out to sea again, casting Monica a sidelong glance. "And if you don't?"
"That won't happen," Monica said fiercely. "It can't."
Barbossa raised his eyebrows. "What makes you so sure?"
Monica smirked at him. "Because you want to find Jack as much as I do," she said evenly. "But not for the same reasons…you only want the Pearl."
Barbossa smiled to himself. "Exactly," he said softly. "And neither you nor Jack will stand in my way."
"So why don't you kill me now?" Monica asked, managing to sound braver than she felt. She felt her insides curl at the thought of being murdered by Barbossa before she got to see Jack again.
"I need you to help crew the ship," Barbossa said calmly. "But if you get in my way to the Pearl, have no doubt, I will kill you."
And with that, he turned and left.
Monica stared at the moon's reflection in the sea. "Well, that was interesting!" she muttered.
