A/N: Hi everyone! I guess welcome back to my story, I'm so glad you've been reading it. I was on hiatus, mainly because getting married and buying our first house . . . well, it takes a lot out of you. Anyway, I received lovely reviews from Orchidya and PanicSweetKiss that encouraged me so much in my writer's slump (I go through several a year). I have new direction now, or rather, established direction. Let's do this!
Chapter Twenty
You forgive the people you love.
Miranda felt as if she'd just uttered the words as she opened her eyes; she could still hear the echo of her voice on the wind. She looked up to see the great shadow of a ship towering over her, the letters spelling out The Eden glinting gold from the afternoon sun.
She closed her eyes again, as if shutting them would shut out reality and return her to her memories.
"You comin', Missy?" A voice called from above. Miranda shook herself from her mood and glanced up at the silhouette leaning over the railing.
"Yes, but I need help."
"That'll be an extra charge-even more depending how-" the man stopped suddenly. "If that be a dead man you can dump him right now, Missy. We won't be havin' a woman and a corpse on this ship-she'll sink for sure."
Miranda gritted her teeth and replied, "You'll be handsomely compensated, I assure you."
"I'll have to speak with the captain." The man disappeared and returned shortly with Craddock, a tall, angular man with red-gray hair. He did not look pleased, but Miranda ignored his glare.
"How much will I need to pay you to compromise your ship's well-being?" The sarcasm was lost on the captain and he was quiet for a moment.
"Double, if nothin' 'appens. Triple if one man falls ill or a single scratch is found on this ship."
"Done."
In the end Barbossa's body was wrapped in a section of an old sail and hoisted onto the main deck. It was then gingerly deposited at the farthest cell of the brig with a thick line of chalk surrounding it in a badly drawn circle. "To keep the demons contained," one sailor had suggested to Miranda as she watched.
Miranda found Craddock at the wheel and approached him. His face darkened at her advance.
"What now? You want to throw me cat overboard? Or perhaps merely crack the ship's bell?"
Miranda laughed. "No, I'm through cursing. I just have a question you may or may not know the answer to."
The captain rumbled a throaty sigh of resignation, but never looked at her.
"Have you come across a Jack Sparrow recently?"
The man's face changed slightly. He lifted an eyebrow at her and smirked. "I should 'ave known ye were one of 'is girls."
"Not even a little," Miranda hastily defended herself. "No. Never. I just need his help on a certain thing."
Craddock winked. "I'll bet ye do."
Miranda sighed. "Do you know where he might be or not?"
Spinning the wheel heavily to the left, Craddock exhaled, looking deep in thought. "Trinidad. Maybe. I 'ear 'e got 'imself the Black Pearl. Played four-'and stud with 'im several weeks ago-said 'e was on the run from the British Navy. Aye," he added after a moment. "Try Trinidad first. Port of Spain. Someone there is bound to know where 'e 'eaded next."
"I don't suppose you're headed in that direction, Captain?"
Craddock smiled, and reached behind Miranda's head. A gold coin was in his hand as if he'd drawn it from thin air, and he replied, "For the right price, I could be."
/\
The golden light of morning warmed Miranda's face as she rolled on her side to look at Barbossa. The white sand gave pleasantly under her weight as she smiled at his still form. He sat quietly, almost meditatively, watching the tide crest and dip against the glimmering sand.
There wasn't a sound but the ocean and the wind, and Miranda wondered if heaven was anything like this.
"I left a man to die on this island." Barbossa's voice cut through the air. By this time Miranda knew he didn't say it to impress or frighten her. He often spoke his mind for the simple reason of letting her discover a deeper part of him.
"What happened?"
"I was too rash. Too clumsy with greed." He was quiet for several moments. As Miranda opened her mouth to coax more from him, he continued. "He was my captain, an' I his first mate. He showed me a map he had leadin' to a vast amount of gold. Thoughtless and determined, I stole the map an' convinced the crew to rebel against him. One less to share the gold. We marooned him here, an' the treasure we found be the cursed gold."
"And he died here?" The wind became a little too cold for comfort and Miranda drew herself up into a ball.
"Per'aps. I gave 'im a gun with a single shot to end it quickly, if he chose. He was a resourceful scrap of a man, though, an' as hell-bent on livin' as a sea rat. T'wouldn't surprise me if he made it off."
Almost to herself, Miranda found herself saying, "I hope so." The wind died down and the warmth in her limbs returned. She stretched out again and rolled on her back. She felt Barbossa's hand trace over her palm lightly and she stretched her fingers to to his, entwining them together almost in a promise.
/\
Miranda bit back a scream as she realized she was holding Barbossa's cold, stiff hand in hers. She didn't remember returning to the brig, but she was there, lying on her back beside the body. Frightened, she scurried on her hands and knees away from the cell and landed heavily on the floor some yards away.
Breathing hard, she tried to recall all she could. She remembered speaking with Craddock about Jack Sparrow's whereabouts, and then . . . what? She had stood by the railing, enjoying the sun, and then she was here.
No. She had been remembering a time she had shared with Barbossa on a beach as the crew restocked their rum and mead. She looked at the body and felt her stomach contract at the sharp juxtaposition, and swallowed hard the bile that had risen in her throat. Why had it become so difficult for her mind to differentiate memories from reality?
A cold thought trickled into the back of her mind that she immediately dismissed as impossible. She was sleep-deprived, and she'd heard of stranger stories happening to those that went without sleep.
/\
The crew insisted that Miranda be the only other occupant in the skiff with the body to row ashore when they'd reached Trinidad. Terrible bad luck to step on shore before the dead were laid upon it. Miranda paid her dues to the captain, which had become triple the original cost but she was highly suspicious of the cabin boy who only claimed to have a cough. Had her funds been limited, she would have put up a fight, but as it was, she still had plenty of money to hire a ship and its crew.
After hiding Barbossa's body amongst the high grasses that grew beyond the sand, Miranda set out towards Port of Spain. Her immediate plan of action was to acquire a coffin to keep Barbossa in, the next was to search every inn, market, and tavern for word of Jack Sparrow. She didn't know how to get to the island where Tia Dalma lived, and as much as she dreaded it, she'd resigned herself to the idea of seeking his help once more.
The coffin was an easy enough task, even if the carpenter looked oddly at her when she asked for a set of wheels at the bottom and a rope handle at the top for transportation. A few extra coins from her bag were enough to have the modified coffin ready by then end of the day. She thanked the man and began her search for Jack Sparrow.
The barman at The Lovely Sera spoke very little understandable English but did not recognize the name Jack Sparrow. A few woman on the street knew him well, but hadn't seen him for years. The innkeeper of Jameson and Red's was so upset to hear his name that Miranda had to duck as his gestured violently to several chairs and a table that lay in a broken pile in the far corner, but he didn't know where the captain would be.
By the end of the day Miranda knew no more than she had of the elusive man's whereabouts. Head down, she trudged down the deserted road by the town hall towards the carpenter's shop when she heard someone hissing at her.
She looked around wildly to locate the source, but saw no one in sight.
"Psst. Down a bit," the voice suggested. Miranda glanced by the bottom of the building and noticed that a barred window even to ground must be from where the voice was coming. Two hands wrapped around the bars as if the person had to hoist himself up to see properly. The face that came into view caused Miranda to almost fall back in amazement.
"Jack Sparrow!" She exclaimed, dropping to her knees.
"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, actually. And do I know you?"
"It's Miranda," she hissed angrily. "You almost ate me once, and more recently, you made me swim to Port Royal."
The man threw his head back in a bark of laughter, as if just remembering. "Of course. I knew you looked familiar, it was just a matter of remembering. When you've seen as many women as I have, you-"
"I've been looking everywhere for you," Miranda interrupted. Jack regarded her seriously for a moment, and then grinned.
"Well, darling," he laughed again. "Clearly not everywhere. But how may I be of service?"
"I need to you to tell me how to get to the island where Tia Dalma lives."
Jack sighed heavily, dramatically. "I wish I could, love, but if I'm to help you, I think it's only fair that you help me, and I am in desperate need of rum. Oh," he added after a moment, "and I'll need you to help me break out of here."
"No. You probably deserve to be here."
"That's just the rub, though, darling. I don't this time."
Miranda sat back on her heels and looked hard at him. "Really?" But it was more of a challenge than a question.
"Honest. Wrong place at the wrong time sort of thing."
"Did it have anything to do with broken chairs and an angry bartender?"
Jack chewed on his lip, his eyes thoughtful. "Might've."
"The rum I can get you, but I'm not helping you escape."
"Then you'll never find dear Tia." It was almost sing-song the way he said it and Miranda felt her brows furrow together almost reflexively. "I don't need you to do much, love. I could get out of here on my own if it weren't for one suspecting guard."
Miranda stood and brushed off her skirt. "I have things to do now. I'll come back tomorrow."
A broad smile drew across Jack's face as he looked up at her. "Perfect. He'll never expect a beak-out during visiting hours."
Miranda knelt again. "I'll need your word that you will help me if I help you first."
Jack bowed his head solemnly, and agreed, "Promise."
"Whatever you're planning," she said softly but with power, "will not involve anyone dying, and I won't be any more involved than an innocent bystander who might have said or done something at just the opportune moment. Are we clear, Captain?"
"You know, love, for keeping pirate comapny so much, you really are a wet blanket," Jack commented. He glanced at her expression, and hastily added, "And we're clear."
"Is there anything you need me to bring tomorrow or a certain time that's best?"
"Rum. Definitely rum." He paused, thinking. "Wear your hair up and your dress low. And bring matches. Whenever."
"Wonderful," she replied drily. "'Til tomorrow, then." She straightened up again and as she was walking away, Jack called to her.
"Oh, and one more thing, love." Miranda turned back to him expectantly. "Make sure you have a way for us to leave quickly. Out of town or off the island, either one would be just peachy."
"You don't ask a lot, do you, Jack?"
He smirked, shaking his head. "S'not in my nature, darling."