I woke up to the sound of footsteps near me. Two men stopped at my feet and said something about a poor kid. Thinking it must be me, I tried to move, but it hurt too much. I opened my eyes, but it was too bright. All I could do was moan a little, which I did. The two men heard it and rushed toward me.
One said, "He's awake."
I tried opening my eyes again and had to blink a few times to adjust. It was blurry, but then things cleared, and I saw George and Dingo there. Together they sat me up.
"How're you feelin'?" George asked.
I felt kind of dizzy. My head was pounding, but instead of responding, I questioned, "What happened?" and reached toward the pain.
"You hit your head," George replied, grabbing my hand. I had already touched the wound, so it was covered in blood. George noticed my worried expression, and explained, "Don't worry, heads bleed a lot, but you'll be fine. I was about to bandage you up again." He pulled some bandage out of the bag beside him and suggested, "Continue Dingo."
"As I was sayin', seven people've died. Luckily for the capt'n, none of 'em was 'cursed.' Twelve've been injured. Abraham's dying, an' Bootstrap disappeared."
"Disappeared? Like completely? Has nobody seen him?"
"Nobody, Sir, "Dingo repeated.
"Hmm." George finished my bandage, and just in time too.
"George!" Pintel called across the ship. "We need you over here."
George packed a few things back into his bag, stood up, and commanded, "Dingo, tell Barbossa that Wesley's awake."
"Aye Sir," Dingo agreed as George walked toward Pintel.
"George, Sir," Pintel began as soon as George got thtere, "look at his eye."
Ragetti, who was the one that the eye belonged to, whimpered, "Me eye."
George took a deep breath and lifted the cloth that Ragetti held over his eye. Not too long after that, Barbossa came out of his room. He started wandering around, asking how people were. He seemed a very kind and caring captain. Dingo immediately delivered the news, just as George had asked him to.
"Excuse me fer a moment, would ye," Barbossa said to the pirate he was talking to when he heard the news. He followed Dingo back to me.
"Good morning Wesley," he greeted kindly as he yanked me to my feet and tied my hands behind my back. Roughly, he pushed me over to the edge of the ship, what he called "the temporary jail area." Then, he just went back to talking to the crew. I lay there for a while, thinking about my head. It felt like somebody had shook up my brain and shot it with a cannon. I rolled onto my front side. There in front of me was someone new, a British soldier by the clothes, with his hands shackled. He wasn't yet twenty. I realized he was the "poor kid" George had mentioned…but he did have a knife.
"Hi," I said awkwardly to get his attention.
"Hello," he replied dejectedly.
"Can I have your knife?"
"What?"
"Ill give you the key."
"Sure," he agreed, rolling his eyes.
I waited for him to hand it to me. That was the right way to do it, right? It was his property; he could reach it easier, but he didn't make a move toward it. I grumbled and clumsily climbed to my knees. Then, I plopped to my butt, facing away from him. I scooted close enough to reach the knife. He leaned away, a little horrified, but it was his fault. After a short while, I was able to cut the rope that was tying my hands. I turned my back to the edge of the ship, reached to my neck to get the key, and handed it to the boy with his knife. He looked for a while, just thinking, before taking them.
"I didn't think you'd do that," he commented as he unlocked himself.
I wasn't sure whether the "that" was taking his knife or giving it back, so I just answered, "I'm a pirate…kind of."
"I'm," he paused. I could see his mind searching through everything he was learning, everything he would be but wasn't yet. I could hear the slight disappointment when he continued, "Bartholomew. Bartholomew Schmitty."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister Schmitty," I said politely, holding my hand out to shake his. "I'm Wesley."
"Wesley," he repeated, shaking my hand, "as in Wesley Swann?"
"Yeah," I sighed, ten finished in my mind I wish people would stop associating me with my freak father.
"Oh, that's got to be hard."
"What?" I asked confused..
"Knowing that your father hates you so much, he would send out a search party with special instructions that you should never be seen again."
"Kill me!" I was surprised, but not shocked.
Schmitty continued, "And then to find out the same search party that was supposed to kill you, accidentally killed your mother instead. Tough, tough, tough."
"My mother is dead!" I exclaimed questioningly, standing up as he said the last three words. "George!" I called all the way across the ship to ask him. I knew she had been shot, but I wasn't ready to admit she was dead.
George looked up from Ragetti's eye, but he was quickly distracted by Barbossa. After talking to a few people, Barbossa had decided this was the time. He had gone back to his room, and now returned with Bootstrap. Bootstrap stood there calmly, hands cuffed. The crew began to mumble about it all, wondering what was going on.
"Ship's company," Barobossa began to get their attention, "remember Jack? The things he did to us, the way we crushed him for it and put him away? He would have been destroyed, out of our way for all eternity, save…" he paused, "someone convinced us to bring him back. And who was that someone?"
"Bootstrap!" The crew replied. The few in his "secret group" just watched.
"So take him back we did, but Jack was no different. The spoils were not equal; he played favorites. He used us to his advantage, so I did away with him. Oh, how much better things have been since he left! But someone is once again against us! This same betrayer has been scheming plots to find Jack. And what do we call that?"
"Mutiny!" They replied again.
"Mutiny, treason, treachery. And what do we do to traitors?"
"Kill them!"
"So what will we do to him?"
"Kill him!"
One of the people in the crowd shouted, louder than anyone else, "To the plank!"
All of the crew—besides the "secret group" and the injured such as Ragetti—flooded toward the plank near Schmitty and me. Dingo joined the crowd to step out and tell me Bootstrap was going to escape to the territory of North Carolina. I shrugged. Why would he tell me that? Was it even possible for Bootstrap to do that? They were strapping cannonballs to his boots. Then, I suddenly realized that's what they would do to me. My stomach dropped. Everything seemed slower as they pushed him off. I watched over the edge as he fell. He hit; he sank, completely covered by water. I sank to my knees.
"Was he your friend?" Schmitty asked as I turned back around and sat down.
"No," I answered.
"Then, why would you care about them throwing him overboard?"
"They're gonna do that to me next."
He thought for a second. "Okay, I'll admit I'm confused. You are a prisoner on your own pirate ship, and your own captain is trying to kill you."
"Simply," I clarified, "I already found Jack."
He seemed to understand. Gradually the crowd began to disperse, which meant Bootstrap hadn't resurfaced. A shiver ran down my spine as I thought of the idea of drowning, and Bo getting a whole two cases of rum from it. Only a moment later, Barbossa knelt down in front of us.
"I see you've made a friend already," he said to Schmitty, picking up my key which never got returned. Schmitty and I looked at each other and smiled. Could you really call that a friendship?
"We pirates," Barbossa continued, "have a little opportunity, ye might say, fer our captives. If they do two things fer us, we'll walk 'em right back to their house with a handful o' gold."
"There aren't any catches are there?" Schmitty asked suspiciously.
"No catches," Barbossa assured. "Now I never promised the jobs would be easy or quick. You are my prisoner, completely at my disposal, 'til ye finish, an' I must approve of what ye do, but it is certainly better than dying, is it not?"
Schmitty looked to me for reassurance.
I nodded, "It's the truth." I could have added, though, that the going home part happened but generally didn't work.
"All right," he agreed, standing up, "all right, I'll do it."
"There's the spirit," Barbossa noted. "Now how much d'ye know 'bout medicine?"
"Uh…you eat lemons to get rid of scurvy."
"Good," Barbossa interrupted somewhere in there, "see that man?" He pointed to George.
"Yes Sir."
"Job one": help him, until I tell you to stop."
Schmitty walked toward George. For a while, Barbossa and I just watched him. Before he could even make it to George, though, Bo, Slacker, and another pirate stopped him to talk.
"Hi, I'm Clubba," Slacker said, grabbing Schmitty's hand and shaking it.
"What?" Schmitty asked, wiping his hand on his pants.
At the same time, the other pirate exclaimed, "Clubba! But ye was Boxer last week!"
"An' Slacker fer a day in between," Bo added.
"Slacker?...Oh, oh yes. Yes Slacker, but why Clubba?"
"Aye," Clubba replied, "I's decided, I ain't so much a Slackeh I thought I was. Afte' tha' battle this morn', I is feelin' very…Clubby."
"Se ye are Clubba," the other understood and continued, "I'm Nipperkin." He reached out to shake Schmitty's hand as well.
Schmitty thought about it for a while before slowly inching his hand forward, surprised to find himself shaking Bo's hand instead. "I'm Bo," he said.
"It's really Toaster," Clubba commented.
"T-o-w-c-e-s-t-e-r, Toaster," Nipperkin interrupted.
"But we call 'im Bo."
"Nice to meet you," Schmitty mentioned, "Bo, Nipperkin, Clubba…I'm Bartholomew Schmitty, and I need to get to that man." He pointed to George.
"Oh, George," Nipperkin acknowledged, and they ushered Schmitty over to him.
Barbossa turned back to me, "You know that goes for you too."
"No it doesn't Sir," I responded. "That law applies only to unassociated prisoners who haven't caused any problems."
"I knew you'd say that…I never thought I'd have to tell you this, but we need your help." He held out my key in front of me. "Are you willing to forgive a mistaken pirate?"
I grabbed the key and jumped into Barbossa's arms, thankful that he would forgive me. He stood up, and I wrapped my legs around him and laid my head on his shoulder whispering, "Thank you…thank you."
He looked down, perplexed by this new addition to his body. He was suddenly reminded of why he didn't like kids, but I was there now. I wasn't going to be coming off any time soon. Knowing that somehow softened him up, and he smiled, cautiously patting my back.
After a moment, he asked, "Can you obey?"
"I can…I can," I answered quietly.
Meanwhile, Norrington stood basking in this seemingly minor victory. His inferior quietly and calmly endured through it all.
"Captain James Norrington," he said to himself in the mirror. Then, he turned toward the inferior, "Does that not sound marvelous."
"But Sir, Miss Swann is dead. How do you expect to be rewarded for that?"
"Ah, but I found her," he explained, fixing his shirt in the mirror, "only I found her."
They heard a soft knock on the door, "Pardon me Sir," another soldier said, pushing the door pen. "I have some good news."
"Gillette," Norrington replied, "how could there be good news? Twenty of our men are dead."
He smiled, "Miss Swann is alive." An expression of shock came across the faces of Norrington and his inferior as the three rushed to her bedside. Certainly, there she was, alive.
End of Part One: A Life of Miracles or Mistakes
Begin Part Two: Borrowed Without Permission
