A Little Math

The Black Pearl is sailing through a storm. They come across a ship that has wrecked and is therefore not so much a ship as a shipwreck.

Will: Is that the Flying Dutchman?

Gibbs: Is the sky blue?

Will looks.

Will: No, actually, it's more like...

Gibbs: Never mind. Yes, that's the Flying Dutchman.

Will: Doesn't look like much.

Jack: Neither do you.

Gibbs: What's your plan?

Will: Well, here's Plan A. If I approach from the southwest, I'll be in her shadow and less likely to be spotted, but to do that, I'll have to get on her other side, so I'll climb overboard here, carefully, so I don't make a sound, and swim under the Dutchman. Then I'll climb up, and remain inconspicuous until I find Jones. I'll try to negotiate with him for the key, and if that doesn't work, I'll come back, then return to the Dutchman in an hour to try and steal the key by stealth.

Cricket, cricket...

Jack: Well. There's some oxygen we'll never see again.

Will: Or, Plan B, I could just go over there and look for the key, and cut down anything in my path.

Gibbs: Most people would've said Plan B first.

Will: Oh...

Jack: It's okay. Not everyone can deduce the obvious.

Ragetti and Pintel throw a rowboat overboard. Will climbs down into it.

Jack: One more thing! If, say, you do happen to get caught, just say that Jack Sparrow sent you to settle his debt.

Will: That'll save me?

Jack: Who knows, but it'll be interesting to see Jones's reaction either way.

Will rows over to the Flying Dutchman. He looks around its deck, but sees only corpses, cadavers, and dead bodies. Then he sees a sailor frantically trying to raise a sail.

Will: Uh, dude, chill. The ship's run aground.

Sailor: Look out! We are so screwed!

Will: Um... huh?

A corpse falls off the mast and dies. Will, for some morbid reason, turns it over. The man's face looks like some sort of demon cinnamon roll, and Will freaks out a little bit. Suddenly, the Flying Dutchman appears out of the water, and undead fish-men start rounding up those who are left on the wrecked ship, and still semi-alive.

When they move to take Will, of course, he fights them. He does well, making his sword into a sort of 18th century lightsaber, until he gets distracted by something shiny. Then one of Jones's fish-men knocks him out.

When Will finally wakes up, he is kneeling in line with the four other survivors.

Will: Ow, dang it. Why hasn't aspirin been invented yet?

Jones paces up and down the row of sailor-men.

Jones: What a pack of suckers you are. If I were you, I'd be scared to die. The man upstairs might not be too pleased with your pansyness. Lucky for you, I can help you there.

Surviving Sailor Sam: Liar!

A fish-man kills Surviving Sailor Sam.

Jones: Any questions?

Scared Surviving Sailor: You're mean.

Jones: Live is tough. Then you die. That's just how things are.

Stupid Surviving Sailor: Pessimist.

Jones: If you guys don't want to oh, say, die, you can join my crew and postpone said death. Will you serve?

Scared Surviving Sailor: Yes!

Stupid Surviving Sailor: Count me in!

Jones notices Will.

Jones: And what's up with you? You're not dead.

Will: No, but Squiddy's bonk on the head makes me wish I were.

Jones: That's not the point. You're not dying, either.

Will: Nope.

Jones: Then why are you here?

Will: Um... ?

Jones: Slower. And in English or fish. I don't speak whelp.

Will: Jack Sparrow sent me to settle his debt.

Jones: Is that so? Well. I'm actually tempted to accept that offer.

Jack is watching through his telescope, and sees Jones's face. He puts the telescope down, and Jones is standing on the deck of the Pearl. Whoa... how'd he do that? Jack and his crew have a minor freak-out attack, but before they can run away (to where?) the undead fish-men catch them.

Jack: Er... hi!

Jones: You owe me. You've been Captain of this mess for thirteen years now. That was our agreement.

Jack: It was, yes, but technically, I was only Captain for two years before I was viciously mutineed upon.

Jones: And whose fault is that? Besides, haven't you introduced yourself as Captain Jack Sparrow all these years?

Jack: Um... no?

Jones: Liar.

Jack: Um, well, I already gave you payment. The sword-happy pyro-eunuch over there.

Jones: One soul doesn't equal another.

Jack: Well, how many? How many souls do you think I'm worth?

Jones: One hundred. You have three days.

Jack: Splendid! Just send the boy back over here, and I'll have you your souls in no time at all!

Jones: No, I keep the boy. Consider him a deposit. Now you've only got ninety-nine more to go!

Jack: What? He's got to be worth at least... five souls? Four? Three-and-a-half maybe, but anyway, he's really a wonderful person, once you get past the eunuch thing. And he's in love. With a girl. And so, keeping them from being joined in holy matrimony would only be half as cruel as actually allowing them to follow through with the marraige. You do the math, mate.

Jones: I keep the boy. Like I said. Before you questioned me.

Jack: Ouch...

Jones: Ninety-nine souls. I've just got one question for you.

Jack: My favorite color is red.

Jones: Can you really live with yourself after you condemn this innocent man to a lifetime of servitude in your name?

Jack pauses, contemplating.

Jack: Sure. Why not? Shall we seal it in blood? Or ink?

Jones wraps a tentacle around Jack's hand, then disappears. Jack looks at his hand and watches the black spot disappear.

Jack: Gibbs... that was really gross.

Gibbs: Not as gross as that time you...

Jack: Never mind that.

Gibbs: Aye, Captain. But how are we supposed to come up with ninety-nine souls in three days?

Jack: Notice he wasn't specific as to what sort of condition these souls should be in.

Gibbs: Oh. Tortuga?

Jack: Yep.

Jack wipes his slimy hand on Gibbs's vest.

Gibbs: Ew...

Surprise updates! No play practice, no band, and little homework tonight! I had fun with this chapter, hope you did too.