Chapter 7: A Turn of the Page
From inside of his mind, Jack could feel the sounds and vibrations of those who had already woken for the day. The shuffling of boots, clanking dishes and glasses, chants, whispers, questions, all of them of masculine importance to him. The crew had risen early to accustom onboard, Teague also woke with the sun, and they had all joined for a morning meal of fresh fruits and breads. It was nothing like being on the open ocean.
He focused more closely on the voices as he slid out of bed and threw on his boots, noticing that the absence was in the sweetness of Elizabeth's voice, she didn't appear to be in the conversation at present. Making his way through the door, he was caught off guard by the rush of women through the halls, doing cleaning and cooking of all sorts for the head residence. He kept to the far side of the hall against the wall, much the same as he had been the night prior and slowly walked out towards the dining room of the home. The voices got louder, more enthusiastic, humored, interested with each step.
"I'm tellin' ye, that chart is a wretched thing!" Ragetti forced, trying to convince the others of the dangers it would involve. "We got t' heed it, tis' a right foul omen, it is."
"An' just wot do ye know about omens then?"
"I know that there's t' be a reason why the Capn' can't translate it…a good reason." The group of dumbfounded pirates continued to argue as Jack turned into the room before them. Looking up they each gave a gesture of welcome as he passed, and began whispering at chance. From across the sunlit area he could see Teague's back, settled in his favorite chair in the corner. Barbossa, nearly falling over himself with anger sat close by, rolling his eyes into the back of his head as Jack approached. A faint melody hummed from inside of the guitar he imagined was settled in his father's lap, hidden behind his shielding back. "Ah…decided t' come to us again." His competing nuisance snarled at him before rising to await his step into the corner. As he moved closer, he saw his father turned around in the chair, revealing not only a guitar to his entertainment, but a piece even Jack could be fonder of. Elizabeth sat daintily before the elder pirate, holding his prized instrument across her knees and strumming lightly as Jack walked in. "Jacky, mornin'."
He nodded to his father, eyes wide with interest upon Elizabeth as she reacted to the name she heard. A smile played on her lips innocently, trying not to show knowledge of what had happened the night before outside of her room, but still pleasantly amused by it. "Good morning Jack." Brow twisted, he found a comfortable spot on the oak bench beside her. "Morning luv, quite a talent you've acquired with that old wooden toy."
"Your father's been teaching me to play, I love it." Jack and Teague exchanged glances for a second before Elizabeth interrupted his thoughts. "How did you sleep?" She seemed concerned, something he had never expected from her, but one he enjoyed. He hardly remembered what had happened last night, but the toll was certainly apparent on his face and in his gut. "I slept," was all he could manage.
"Ye hungry son?" Teague gestured to the array of food across the table behind them, but Jack shook his head lightly and continued watching Elizabeth's fingers tap at the strings rather unsurely. It was fascinating to him. As her index finger got in the way of her thumb, she fumbled with the guitar, creating a startling purr from the strings and moaning in distaste. As Teague and Barbossa struck up a conversation on the topic of the fountain, Jack simply laughed at her. "I'm terrible at this; my fingers don't work well together."
"There's a trick t' it."
"What trick?"
"Ere' I'll show ye…" Jack moved his hand to hers and silently began adjusting her fingertips along the strings. Elizabeth watched, mesmerized by the change the time apart had impressed upon him. He was genteel in her eyes. "You ave' to let yer fingers dance, can't keep them so stiff."
"Dance?"
"Aye…dance, slowly." He placed the last finger in its rightful spot and slid back from the guitar. "Go ahead, try it." With one last smirk she began to once again play the tune Teague had taught her, famously loved in the Sparrow residence, it was a song that instantly reminded Jack of his mother. Bittersweet, glossy, romantic and it had never sounded better. Elizabeth's fingers moved swiftly, as if floating across the sky rather than strings, pulling only the delicate notes from the ancient guitar. "Much better Lizzie." Prideful in his lesson Jack smiled, kept a watchful eye on her and found interest in the other men's discussion over the journey at hand.
Barbossa held up the wood plated map as he spoke, "Teague, there seems t' be some sort o' inscription on t' chart." Jack looked up at them, realizing it would be his turn to talk soon enough. Elizabeth continued playing as she listened in curiously. "Inscriptions, Jack what do ye know about it?"
"Not enough, that's why we're ere'."
"Why?"
The music stopped suddenly as Elizabeth leaned into the conversation, unable to contain her wonder. Jack looked to her cautiously, then upwards to Barbossa, and finally to his father.
"We'll be needin' yer book."
Minutes later, Teague was leading the way to his study, his personal collection of knowledge as it had come to be known. Jack had spent hours in the room with his father as a child, scanning the maps, literature, science of the times, growing to be nearly as brilliant as Teague himself. Barbossa walked casually at the back of the group through the halls, breathing heavily over the annoyance, as Jack and Elizabeth walked side by side through the tight space, each taking turns peering over at the other.
Once inside of the room, Teague walked to the far corner and scanned along bindings for the proper book. He found it, pulled it down off of the high shelf and walked back to where they were, laying it out on the table in front of them. "Ye mean this one, right?" Jack turned around to face Barbossa, "Where's me chart?"
"My chart Sparra."
Annoyed, Elizabeth interrupted the coming argument, "The chart!" Both men looked to her surprised as Barbossa handed off the map to Teague, who unrolled it and began to run his worn fingers along the rich colors and images. Every detail of the map was as important as the fountain itself, and the interpreting of the text was sure to mean something to them, Jack was determined. "Ave' any idea?" He asked his father, all four of them hunched over the map, book and table.
"Hmm…looks t' be Mandarin. Very old…"
"Mandarin, what's that?" Elizabeth chimed in, looking over the pages of text and design in the book, as Teague looked up to answer. "It's ancient Chinese. Did t' chart come from Singapore?" All at once the three of them replied hastily, nodding their heads. "Well then, Lizzie, turn t' page 452. The lot of ye will need t' translate the map." Jack stood over her shoulder as she turned the page, one side vibrantly decorated with what seemed to be a sunset over the ocean, and numerous etchings of the same style as on the map. The two of them leaned in closer to the book, mesmerized by the colors and lettering, while Barbossa took to excusing himself. "If we're t' be off in another day we'll need all the supplies we can muster, so I'll be gettin' those while ye two decipher this nonsense." And in a flash, he was gone with the crew safe on his heels. Teague also excused himself to make a return to the company of women and children of the household, leaving Jack and Elizabeth to the devices of each other's minds.
They began to slowly compare markings from the map to book, translating word for word the phrases painted across the ocean, coasts, and destinations of the wooden panel. "Where fire meets water'…" Elizabeth began, followed closely by Jack, "Where the sands all run out…" Moments later they concluded the short verse together, "Seek and you shall find, a downward route."
Puzzled by disbelief Jack relaxed back in the chair he was in, rubbing his forehead as if searching for an answer to it all in his mind. Elizabeth studied the engravings that seemingly matched those in the book, trying to place any meaning she could. They both knew they were looking for a place, some far off land of unknown locale, but the details of such pointed nowhere they had traveled before, not even for the legend himself. "Jack…?"She tried, seeing the confusion seeping into his pores. "Jack?"
He looked up, mouth gaping with loss of motor skills, and only creating noises in response. "What do you think it could mean?"
"Don't know luv….downward route…" he muttered under his breath, trying to imagine the consequences of translating the riddle before them. "Downward, what kind of downward?"
Elizabeth immediately looked back to the book, noticing a small sketch of a fountain, and second to that, an image that seemed to be a demonic head, flames engulfing it's body. Her eyes shot wide, afraid to admit what it expressed, and instead pushed the book back out in front of Jack. "What do you see?" Lost in her meaning he glanced down, noting the colors and artistic life of the pages, but not understanding what she was getting at.
"I see a book."
"No…look closer. What do you see?" He focused, his eyes peering into the very soul of the open book, as the images danced across the page. Settled between words was a worn drawing of what appeared to be some sort of hellish location, demons and fire, all of it settled in the open waters just near a coast. He recognized it instantly and stopped to look over at the map, La Florida, the very same bit of land.
"Florida…" He replied, glancing towards her. "Right where we started t' look. Seems t' be another waste of me time…"
"Jack Sparrow, you are a brilliant man. But I don't think you understand."
"Wot' else is there to understand Lizzie?"
"It's not on the coast of Florida…it's inside. Downward route…it's hell Jack."