Shipwreck
Captain Hector Barbossa sat back in the chair as the enormity of the story's tale began to dawn onto him; as if it were a gift bestowed upon him by the Heavens above after the Devil himself had stolen his only hope of ever tasting food again. So Bootstrap and his boy were now at the bottom of the sea, dead or dying from the harshness of the unpredictable mistress. With what this story spoke of, he and his crew could find another way of freeing themselves of Cortez's curse.
"Now all we have to do is convince the crew, Jack," Barbossa said to the monkey who was still swinging from the chandelier. "Without telling them about the boy, of course."
Jack twisted his torso so that he looked at his master right side up. To Barbossa, it looked awkward and he wondered how the monkey could bend his body in such a way. The monkey squeaked at him before righting itself and hanging from his tail. He reached down and grabbed a shiny gold coin from a small pile on the table that had been hidden beneath the maps and had only been revealed earlier when Jack had run through said maps.
"Give me that," Barbossa attempted to snatch the coin back from the monkey, but Jack scattered across the room too quickly for the cursed pirate to grab him. "Ye know the crew will have me hide if ye lose that!" He followed after the monkey and after several minutes of playing cat and mouse with Jack, he succeeded in coaxing the undead animal to trade him the coin for something noisy. "Blasted monkey."
Barbossa walked back to the table with the coin and collected the other five laying there before hiding them in his coin pouch. He sat back down and pulled the papyrus parchment back over to him. "The Hyrcanian Ocean," he murmured as he reread some of the passages. "Never heard of such body before and who be the Parthians anyway?" A bell jingled over by the wide windows in the back of the cabin. The captain paid no attention to his monkey as the animal played with the bell he had traded with.
He wondered that since the story had been written in Latin, that the teller had been Roman and spoke of a Roman goddess. Such train of thought led him to conclude that the Hyrcanian Ocean had to be a body of water somewhere within the Roman Empire. But which body? Is it a sea or an actual ocean? What use to be called the Hyrcanian Ocean?
Perplexed by the ancient names used in the story, Barbossa stood up once more in frustration and marched over to the bookshelves to see if by chance his predecessor had a book on the Roman Empire or ancient oceans and seas. "Jack, remind me to update this book collection with some useful books," he said after discovering that the late-Captain Jack Sparrow had nothing more than the usual books on ships and navigation and the occasional book on random European countries.
A knock at the cabin's door interrupted his search through a book called Barbary Corsairs, Scourge of the Mediterranean. He closed the book and replaced it before calling out; "Ye may enter." The door opened and the tall tattooed African stepped through. "Ah, Bo'sun have a drink, seat or whichever fancies ye."
"Have ye found out what happened tae de coin, Capt'n?" Bo'sun ignored Barbossa and went straight to business, as was his nature. The Captain scowled slightly at the brusque manner before dismissing it with a friendly grin.
"Regrettably, no," Barbossa answered. "They had not sailed near any islands or passed any ships since the call. The coin had to be on board and unless some scallywag crewman is hording it, it is now sinking its way to Davy Jones' Locker."
"No cursed sailor aboard dis ship would dare hold back de only thing dat can free him." Bo'sun replied and pulled out one of the table's chairs before seating himself in it. He noticed the papyrus scroll and the Latin book but took no more special attention to it than a mere glance.
"Aye, that be true. Therefore it now be at the bottom of the sea."
"We can always go back an' search for it," the First Mate suggested.
"Aye, we could," Barbossa nodded and propped his feet onto the table, leaning back in his chair that he now found himself in again. "But the coin has not called to us again, so where would ye begin the search?" Bo'sun was quiet with that question and Barbossa figured he had no easy answer to give. "Exactly. We be wasting our time tryin' to find a coin that will eventually call to us again. Meanwhile we could have been searching for the other coins and/or other means to freeing ourselves of this wretched curse."
"Other means?" a new voice asked and both men looked to see Koehler standing in the doorway. The coxswain stepped into the room and Jack the monkey appeared out of nowhere from the rafters, jingling his bell at the Jamaican. Koehler swung his arm to shoo the offending creature away and Jack only hissed at him before climbing back to his perch above.
"Aye," Barbossa said and turned the scroll around so both men could see it. "Twas among the merchant maps we took."
"I can't read it," Koehler says, annoyed. "What does it say?"
"It is Latin," Bo'sun states and points to the book nearby. He did not speak the language either but unlike the coxswain he had seen the book and knew what it was before Koehler had entered the room.
"Aye that it be," the cursed captain pulled the scroll away from them and began to carefully roll it back up. "It be about some powerful amulet created by a goddess for the Occult of Angitia. Apparently it has the ability to heal the sick and dying and lift the most powerful curses, even those inflicted by the gods themselves."
"An' ye believe it?" Bo'sun asks.
"Even if I did believe it, I do not know where to start looking for the three pieces."
"Three pieces? Ye mean it be broken?" Koehler wasn't too pleased and showed everyone by crossing his arms together.
"Sadly. However, I do know the location of one of the pieces."
"But ye just said ye didn't?" Bo'sun pointed out.
"And I don't. The story uses an ancient name for some body of water. Until I figure out what body that is, I don't know where it is."
"But..."
"I know what I said." Barbossa snapped. "Now, I ask ye. Will ye be willing to take a side-trip to find these amulet pieces?"
"An' what of de coins?" Koehler inquired, sitting down. "Will we be collectin' dem still?"
"Of course," the captain answered and then added, "It be a good idea to search alternative ways to free ourselves but that does not mean we should stop with what we're doing now."
"I agree," Bo'sun added with a mod. "De sooner I can taste food again, de better me mood will be an' de less I have tae use de cat, aye Koehler?" He laughed amusingly and the coxswain glowered behind his dreadlocks.
"De time we spend findin' dis amulet dat may not even exist, could have been spent gatherin' de coins." Koehler protested. He was not happy in changing their course.
"Aye, but like I said," Barbossa leaned over to face the Jamaican up close. "We be doin' both at the same time. Besides ye know the call takes priority over everythin' we do. The moment a coin calls to us, we be puttin' this little treasure hunt aside. Ye do want to eat again, don't ye?"
"Of course I do!" the Jamaican answered, a little quelled by Barbossa's ruthless manner.
"Then don't question me again or I'll be inclined to be rid of ye like Bootstrap."
"Ye do dat an' ye condemn yerself, Capt'n."
"Nay, I'll be sure to keep yer heart before I send ye to the Locker." Barbossa sneered and his monkey leapt down between them screeching his agreement with the Captain. Koehler was about to swat the annoying animal aside when they all felt the all too familiar pull of a coin calling to them. All four of them looked toward the port bow and Jack screeched excitedly, hopping up and down between Barbossa and Koehler before climbing to his master's shoulder.
"Well then, it be settled," the Captain said over the monkey. He gave Jack a peanut from his pocket to quiet him. "After we get this coin, we set sail for Egypt..."
Outside, the cursed crew was already adjusting the sails and rigging as the helmsman turned the ship onto its newest heading. The Black Pearl groaned under the stress of the changing winds, its black and torn sails filling out and sending the cursed ship against the sea quickly and harshly. Soon the cursed pirates of Cortez's Gold will be upon their latest prey and only the sea will be showing them any mercy.
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The sky and the reflecting sea below was dark as the night. A full moon shown through thin, gray clouds to cast an eerie glow upon the still water and the two ships that sat upon its glassy surface. Misshapen shadows darted back and forth on both ships as the clouds passed in front of the silver orb, blocking its light for a few moments before allowing it again to glow upon the watery world below. One of the ships slowly approached the other, its ghostly features looking even more ominous in the moonlight, its deck empty but two men standing at the top of the stern castle.
"It certainly doesn't look like much is left, Capt'n," the hammerhead First Mate observed. The ship that they approached was a schooner and it was a wreck. It looked like a great beast had torn it to pieces from beneath the waves, drawing it downward into the depths until all that was left showing were splintered masts, torn sails and parts of the main deck. But Davy Jones knew that no beast, Kraken or other, was responsible for the carnage that slowly sank before the ghostly Flying Dutchman; unless you counted cursed men as beasts.
Beside the Devil of the Sea, stood his loyal first mate, Maccus, waiting for the order to send the crew over and loot the wreckage for supplies and souls, assuming the crew of the Black Pearl left any this time. "Nay, it doesn't," Davy Jones lowered the barnacle covered and rusted glass. His tentacle beard twitched ever so slightly in tense anticipation as the Flying Dutchman drew ever nearer to the shipwreck. Off on the horizon and well behind the wreckage, a fog bank slowly shrank against the moonlight as the source for it sailed away rapidly. Jones was curious as to why the Pearl's captain was leaving in a hurry this time. Normally he and his crusty crew scavenged the leftovers with the cursed fog covering them. This time seemed to be not the case.
The sound of metal scraping against wood resounded and ended with a heavy splash as the Dutchman's anchor was let loose. The massive galleon slowed to a stop next to the wrecked schooner, her sails folding at the same time. Jones did not have to say a word to his crew. They knew what to do and he watched them emerge from the wreck's woodwork. It certainly gives ah whole new meanin' tae comin' out of the woodwork, he silently mused. Jones watched as his men moved through the wreckage searching for survivors and when Maccus stood at the side and gestured for the Captain, Davy Jones was already at the hammerhead's side. The Master of the Seven Seas already knew the answer before he heard it.
"No survivors... again," Maccus reported, disappointed.
Jones beard curled in slight frustration before he answered. "Are ye certain-ah?" he asked, wondering if it really was worth following the Black Pearl if it's cursed crew was going to take everything, including the kitchen sink. As Maccus answered him, he felt something creeping along the edges of his senses, like a soul that had departed from the shell but lingered curiously as if it wanted to watch what happened to its corporeal self. As he grasped onto it, feeling and groping it to see if it really was there, he was fairly certain now that there was a survivor somewhere nearby and it was doing a fine job of hiding from his men.
"There is ah survivor," he stated flatly, amusement crossing his face and beard at the thought of this lone man believing he can hide forever on a sinking ship. Like a basset hound that had caught an intriguing scent, Davy Jones led his First Mate and two others through the wreck, never bothering with the doors or ladders as they passed through each section, most of which were flooded with water. The Captain paused a moment to regain his bearings and wondered how this survivor had made it to the lower stern without passing on.
Fear of death can turn any sensible man into a brave and desperate soul. Sensing the soul to be just beyond a wall, Jones sent his men first to secure the only survivor before following behind with a wet and slurping plop. The chamber they found the man in was a small storage room that had been blocked off by debris caused by a cannonball smashing through a parallel wall and knocking down the overhead rafters, trapping the lone survivor below deck. Aside from the debris, there were a few crates and wet sacks of cargo scattered over the floor, some of the contents floating about in a slowly rising and shallow pool of water.
The man himself looked like a drowned bilge rat. He was soaked to the bone and in the weak moonlight coming through the holes above, Jones could see bloodstains on his person, most likely coming from the gash on his scalp. The man was wild-eyed with fright, that same fear keeping him from screaming and struggling from Maccus and Angler's grasps. Pleased that the cursed crew had missed one of the crewmen, Davy Jones stepped forward with his whalebone pipe and lit it in front of the doomed sailor. He took a puff from it before breathing the intoxicating and rich smoke into the man's face. The smell of tobacco brought focus back into the sailor's eyes and met the Captain's briefly before averting his gaze elsewhere; which had fallen onto the intricately carved pipe.
"Do yew fear death?" Davy Jones began in a soft tone. The man was already scared out of his wits; there was no longer a need to use a harsh and loud voice. Besides he had learned long ago, long before he became cursed himself, that soft voice tended to be more persuasive than a cruel and harsh one. "Do yew fear that dark abyss-ah?"
"I... I know who ye are, sir," the sailor spoke up after finding some courage to speak.
"Do yew now?"
"I... I know what ye are goin' tae offer." The man seemed to be finding more strength in each word he spoke. He found enough to meet Jones' gaze again.
"An' will yew accept-ah me offer?" the cursed devil spoke expectantly.
"No." Jones abruptly straightened, disappointment knotting his tentacles together.
"Tew the depths then," he said guiltlessly and began to turn away. But a bloodied and boney hand reached out to grab the empty sleeve of his long coat.
"No, wait!" the sailor pleaded and Jones humored him.
"Change yew mind have we?"
"I... I have a better offer." As the sailor hoped, Jones was intrigued enough to stave off his crewman from finishing the slice along his neck.
"I'll be the one tew determine it's-ah worth-ah," Jones leaned down into the man's face, his head now firmly grasped in the crab claw. He tilted the sailor's head as if he were studying his bloodied face like a critic would critique a masterpiece. "What-ah can yew offer that-ah is better than me own?"
"Information," the sailor squeaked.
"An' what-ah do yew think is worth-ah yer life?"
"Tis about de pirates dat attacked us." Jones let the sailor go and started to walk away again. "Dey plan tae steal something dey think would help dem!" That seemed to stop the Sea Devil in his tracks. Jones did not turn around to face the man gain, but let the silence hang between them before he finally spoke.
"An' what would yew know-ah of this-ah?" His voice was menacing, warning the sailor that he had better not be lying to him.
"I overheard two of dem talkin' about der Capt'n, about his mistakes an' that he's sendin' dem on a wild goose chase for somethin' dat may or may not help dem." By then Jones had faced the man again, pulling on his pipe in thought as he listened.
"Really now," he finally said. "An' how do yew know-ah that this bit o' information would-ah interest me?"
"Dey're walkin' cadavers, sir." The sailor answered. "Cursed men like ye an' yer crew..." He did not get to finish his sentence as Jones lunged forward and grabbed him by the neck with his claw. The sailor tried to fight off the crustacean arm to no avail. Jones beard was writhing in anger at what the sailor had said and was ready to kill him with a simple snap of his neck. He wasn't angry at the fact that he was cursed, he was angry at being reminded of it and that made him act on impulse.
"An' why would yew believe that-ah?" he hissed in the man's face.
"I... I thought ye would be wantin' tae lift de curse?" the sailor sputtered and gasped beneath Jones deathly grip. After a minute and the man's eyes started to roll up into his head, Jones let him go. The sailor dropped to the floor gasping lungful of air before sitting up on his knees. The fear had returned to him and wondered if he had made a mistake in telling the devil what he had overheard. "Am I right?" he asked quietly and Jones glared down at him but did not answer right away.
If what the man said were true, it would explain the Pearl's hasty departure. If the cursed crew was going after an item that could lift their curse believing it to be strong enough to work, then perhaps it could do the same for him? The thought of being able to set foot on land any time he pleased and walk among people without them running in fright or trying to slay him was quite alluring. He could then hunt down the woman who tricked him into this Hellhole and get some long awaited answers. But as quickly as those exciting thoughts came they vanished with the reality that his curse may be impossible to break by any other means except by That Woman.
"Perhaps this information is worth lookin' into."
"Den ye will let me go?" the sailor asked.
"An' why would-ah I do that-ah?" Jones asked but he already knew the answer.
"We made a deal!" the sailor stepped forward threateningly but swiftly retreated when Jones quickly closed the gap between them, his tentacle face in his.
"Deal?" Jones said softly and menacingly. "I recall makin' no deal with the likes of yew."
"B... but I had offered..." Jones cut him off before he could finish.
"Aye, yew did offer an' told me what-ah yew knew. However yew failed tew make an accord before yew so freely gave me that knowledge." The Captain grinned like a fox that had outsmarted the stupid hounds. The sailor quickly realized his mistake and his shoulders slumped in resignation. Jones could see that he was ready to accept his fate and so continued to speak to him in that soft tone but this time without the menace. "But me offer still stands."
The man looked up warily as Jones continued, "One hundred years before the mast. Will yew serve?"
The lone and bloodied survivor nodded his answer and Davy Jones straightened his frame, laughing at the man's pitiful situation and the choice he had made. The Captain of the Flying Dutchman emptied his pipe and stepped past his newest crewmember that was being pulled to his feet by Angler.
"Welcome tew the crew, Master Simons!" He laughed cruelly before walking through the splintered hull behind the man.