Disclaimer – Yes, I know it's been a while. Blame a lot of things, but most notably, my very uncooperative muses. And, I know nothing of sailing. When I researched it, I was - overwhelmed. Might be why I had a hard time getting this chapter written. Anyway, from here on out with this and subsequent chapters, I'll do my best to write as accurate about sailing as possible. Where I just can't make heads or tails about what to do, I'll have Sparrow mutter 'thingy' or 'doe-hicky', or 'whatchamacallit'. Just kidding. I'll just write dialogue or focus on something else entirely.

In the meantime, enjoy. :0)

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Chapter 22 – Is It Just Me or Is It Hot In Here?

The moment the island blew up, Gibbs' eyes had never been wider, and as the fiery magma-laced plume climbed higher into the sky, he swallowed nervously. Suddenly, the clouds parted and exposed the moon, activating the curse for all to see.

At first, Gibbs panicked when he saw his arms lose their muscle mass, and then he barely stifled a scream the moment he saw his crew reduced to skeletons. Yet, when the sound of the exploding island reached the ship and shook the vessel, he realized just how dire the situation was. This had him running about, yelling orders to anyone not moving fast or efficiently enough.

Just the same, some of the men froze where they stood, first from witnessing the explosion and then from the sonic boom that followed. It didn't help when the moon broke through the clouds, either, and as everyone turned into skeletons, it had them screaming in near hysteria.

Finally, Gibbs voice rose above their fright, his voice loud and desperate, "That inferno back there…" and pointed towards the horizon behind them, "is com'n our way, so unless ye wants to bath in hellfire and brimstone, ye best get back t'work!"

That seemed to be enough to get them moving again.

Gibbs continued barking commands, though, his voice barely audible above the roar of the wind and crashing waves, "Ya needs t'tie that rope down, ya scuvey dogs, or we'll lose the main sail f'sure!" In response, several men grabbed rope and tightened the aforementioned sail, the gusty wind pushing the ship faster through the water. Gibbs gave a satisfactory nod and grin and then suddenly found himself inundated by a huge wall of water, as it shot over the bulwark, drenching him from head to toe. He grabbed a sail line and held on, nearly losing his footing, as the gale-force winds aided the sea. The flow of water raced towards the opposite side of the deck, though, and emptied the deck again as it returned to the ocean.

The boat leveled out again and Gibbs steadied himself, wiping his face dry and then peered up at the half-dozen men on the yardarm. Suddenly, a man slipped on the slick beam of wood. The sailor quickly grabbed a line to keep from plummeting to the deck and, as he scrambled back up to safety, the first mate below him chastised, "An, watch yerselves, we can't lose a one a'ye; we needs all the men we have t'get outta this!"

Gibbs stared up at the tar-black sky, its heavens once again thick with clouds and threatening rain. He sighed and turned away from the men above, yelling at those toiling deck-side, while they battened down items not nailed to the ship, "And you," he pointed to one man, "make certain that mainsheet is tight, it's gonna be ride from hell an' we need as stiff a sail as can muster." The man staggered away, slipped, recovered, and staggered some more before reaching his destination. He yanked on the line, stiffening the sail above, and then cinched the rope taught and secured it to a pin.

Suddenly, the clouds released their rain, the torrent pelting both ship and its inhabitants. The Black Pearl pitched and rolled furiously in the water, causing Mr. Gibbs to walk like a drunken man as he made his way across deck. The undulating action of the ship kept everyone off balance, slowing their efforts, yet Gibbs knew that what was heading their way would only make their current situation seem like a nice summer outing in the Caribbean. He didn't like the feel of the ship either. Something was wrong and so he headed to where Jack steered the Pearl, doing his best not to find himself washed overboard.

When he climbed to the top of the stairs, he found his captain nearly hugging the wheel. "Jack, ya need a break with that?" Gibbs asked, his hand ready to grab the helm.

Slightly wide-eyed, Jack turned to look at his first mate. He shook his head, "Nay, if I let go, the ship will go 'walty'," and as if to prove his worries, the ship found itself on the downward slide of a monstrous wave, the larboard side tipping towards the sea, only to have it get slammed by another wave crossing its bow, thereby saving the Pearl from rolling over. The sudden drop and collision, though, nearly made Sparrow – and everyone else on deck - airborne.

"It's crazy, isn't it," Sparrow laughed nervously, "here we are immortal, can't die 'cuz of th'curse, and yet…the fear of drownin jus'as strong as if we could!"

"Aye, Cap'n, so given what ya just said," Gibbs gestured with one hand, "lemme have the wheel so you can take a rest, maybe join our guests in your quarters?" Gibbs gave an imploring look to his captain, nearly begging the man with that to release his hold on the helm. With the way the sea seemed to pull at the vessel, Gibbs was certain Sparrow hadn't done much with guiding it.

"Ya might be right about that, but I'm the Cap'n an' if I shelter myself while me men are in the thick of it…" Jack Sparrow resumed steering again, more deliberately this time as if to prove his capabilities. Still, he couldn't help but look quickly behind him towards the horizon and his eyes widened further at the bright ribbon of fire that seemed to grow in size, as if chasing him.

"I won't tell, cross me heart and hope to die," Gibbs suddenly rolled his eyes, "that is…if I could…nevertheless, Cap'n, let me 'ave the helm!"

"Mr. Gibbs, I won't leave m'post. However…" he smiled, "as you like; you can 'drive' for a while," and Jack released the wheel to his first mate. As Gibbs took the wheel in hand, Jack immediately grabbed a sail line for support, just as the Pearl rode up the next giant wave. He stared towards the ship's wake again and breathed a sigh of relief as the fire diminished. "So…Mr. Gibbs," Sparrow asked, "any word in how our guests are doin?" He swung his head back around dramatically, trying not to think about what else could go wrong.

"Nay, haven't heard a word from'em. But," he smirked nervously, "I'm certain those turtles are as sick as old ladies on a barge ri'now."

Jack gave a lop-sided nodded, "Aye…an' if this hellish sea gets any worse, we'll all be joinin'em." He smiled then, "But, it seems the worst might be over, lad."

"You think?"

"Aye, that island's blown itself out, so other than this ugly storm, it'll be clear sailing from here on out!"

Gibbs grinned, "Aye, Cap'n; I'll go tell the crew."

"Maybe when things calmed down, we'll toast to our success, have a little rum. Just…don't tell the woman."

Deep inside Captain Sparrow's quarters, six individuals waited, anxiously riding out the storm. Will and Elizabeth sat side-by-side on Sparrow's bed, their backs up against the wall of the cabin, arms wrapped around the other. They said little, both watching the view the window afforded, their expressions worried.

Across the room from them and huddled in a corner, Mike sat in strained silence. He was himself, again, and not the skeleton that had him screaming in terror moments earlier. As he sat on the floor, bent over a spittoon purposefully positioned just in front of him, his hands greedily wrapped around its stand. He seemed frozen in place, his expression one of dire misery. If not for his already green complexion, Mike would have looked sicker than anyone could, certainly sicker than he had ever been.

And, with each pitch and roll of the ship, he hunched even more over the mouth of the bronze pail, his eyes squint shut, his mouth quivering. He suddenly tried to hurl but nothing came.

"For someone who hasn't eaten a thing, yer sure tryin' hard to throw up."

"Shuddup, Raph!" Mike groaned, his voice raspy from dry heaving. He looked up at his red-banded brother and shook his head, "Remind me never again to dream about sailing the open sea, 'kay?"

"Yeah, bro, that and turnin' into a skeleton," Raphael laughed, "I'll just smack ya upside the head if ya do…" and the sai-wielding terrapin exampled his words, rapping his knuckles atop Mike's head, which had Mike heaving unsuccessfully into the spittoon again.

As before, Michelangelo didn't have much to offer, since he hadn't eaten – or, more to the point, since he couldn't eat. When he finished vomiting – or trying to, the orange-wearing turtle glared up threateningly at his brother and snarled, "I don't need any encouragement, here, 'kay?"

"Hey, just tryin' t'help, bro," Raph chuckled next to him.

As his brothers bantered with each other, Don sat in the chair he had dragged over to the window to watch the island's destruction. He looked over and saw Mike with the brass bowl. He smiled, amused, "Mike, you do know that that spittoon isn't for spit, right?"

Mike gave him an 'I could care less' look before placing his face over the container's opening again, ignoring Don.

"Seriously, Mike, I wouldn't get too cozy with that thing."

Sighing, Mike huffed and gazed back at his genius brother with a look of indifference, "And…why not, Donnie?"

"Well, think about it. Captain Sparrow's teeth are as white as yours and mine."

"Okay, so…"

"So, he doesn't chew tobacco, so he wouldn't need a spittoon."

"Your point?" Mike rolled his eyes and then swallowed deeply as another need to hurl overwhelmed him. Despite his lack of success in such matters, instincts played out and he positioned his face over the container's opening again.

"Well, my point is," Don smirked, "that spittoon isn't a spittoon as it is a – portable 'potty'."

Mike, his mouth opened wide, paused mid-retch. He stared at the gaping container and sniffed. He didn't smell anything, but then Elizabeth had said that their sense of smell would be affected by the curse. It was then when Don's words finally registered.

"EWWWWW! and Mike shoved the brass bucket across the floor where it clanged against the far wall.

While Mike retched again and not because of the undulating motion from the ship and as Raph laughed at his baby brother's reaction, Don turned back around to stare out through the paned glass window. As the Black Pearl crested another large wave, he noticed the ribbon of fire along the horizon had grown. Then, it disappeared as the ship raced down the other side of the giant wall of water. The clouds had covered the sky once again, so like Mike, Donatello was no longer a bony replica of himself. It was only temporary relief, though.

Silent and somber now, he watched as the waves lashed up against the window, a testament that they were bigger than they had been since before the island had blown. Don knew that whatever was coming their way, it would make these waves paltry by comparison. He could only hope that the curse was true to what Jack told them and that regardless of what happened, he and his brothers – as well as everyone else onboard - would not die.

Then again, despite his terrapin ancestry, Donatello's worst fear since arriving in this world had been about drowning at sea, even though his brothers' had survived the 'walk' from the island to where the Black Pearl was anchored. However, since setting sail, that fear had changed.

Now he feared finding himself at the bottom of the ocean, quite alive because of the curse, and having to deal with creatures indigenous to the deep sea. The thought of sharks or giant squid attacking him, tearing him from limb to limb, to see his body taken apart, bite by bite by bite and not die because of it, it made him shudder. Don tried to rid his mind from his unsavory thoughts. He tried to think of more pleasant things, such as finding the next portal, the one that would take them home. Even the island, pre-explosion of course, offered a bit of respite from his imaginings.

Suddenly, the Pearl rode up another gigantic wave and Don found his musings flittering away. He felt his weight increase as one would with riding an elevator. As the ship crested and just before it plummeted down into another trough, he saw the terrifying horizon again. At first, he heartened; the fire had finally gone out. Then, Don gasped aloud when he saw something far more ominous coming towards them.

Instead of the magma rich fury of the disintegrated island, now what he saw and racing at a speed far greater than the ship could sail, was the pyroclastic flow, the volcanic generated agglomerate, as wide as the horizon and just as lethal.

"Don, what…is that?" Leo asked, pointing towards the brownish mass heading their way.

"That, Leo," Don replied gravely, "is what I feared would happen if Isla de Muerta blew up."

Hearing the tone of worry in his brother's voice, Raphael stood up from where he sat on the floor. He joined Don at the window, standing next to Leo, but when he looked out, all he saw was a wall of water, since the ship by this time was sailing down its flank.

Mike gave up trying to get sick and followed Raphael's lead. Now, all four brothers stood behind the desk and the turtle quartet stared through the window at the ocean.

"What're you guys talkin' about?" Raph asked, "I don't see nothin' but water."

"Well, Raph," Don said casually and turned towards his red-masked brother, "we don't have to worry about going down with the ship anymore."

Mike grinned, "We found land?" His mood brightened considerably.

"No, we haven't found land, but…"

"Land will find us, unfortunately," Leo glumly added.

"What in shell d'ya mean, it'll find us?" Raph didn't like the expression on either of his two brothers' faces.

"Simply put, Raphael," Don said casually, "when Isla de Muerta blew up, the explosion created a wall of mud and volcanic steam and it's now heading our way." Don turned to face the window again as the ship rode up another monstrous wave. One eye ridge cocked in curiosity, he frowned at what he saw.

"That's…impossible," came a woman's voice from behind them.

Whirling around, Don shook his head, "No, it's not, Elizabeth An volcanic island that explodes can and often does create its own wave, with the disintegrated landmass mixing with steam generated from the volcano. The force of the explosion then sends it out across the ocean, skimming across the water like a rock, and…" he paused for a moment, to grab their attention, "at speeds far greater than this ship can sail."

"Okay, so…" Will remarked, "...if it's a wave, then we'll just sail on top of it as we would any other wave, right?"

"No…this wave isn't cool like the ocean, nor is it as liquefied. It's denser and it's heated, past the boiling point, thousands of degrees hot. The force of the explosion allows it to stay on top of the water's surface so when it reaches us, it will quite literally burn this ship like kindling…unless," Don sighed, "Unless the curse works with or without moonlight?"

Will ran to the window, desperate, shoving past the turtles, and stared at the sky above, "But, the clouds, they've concealed the moon again, how…"

Elizabeth joined him, addressing Donatello, "The curse is in effect regardless, it's just the moonlight that exposes our –bones. We won't die or burn up."

All this time, Mike and Raph stood there silent, with Mike's mouth gaping open, a scream caught in his throat. Aside from drowning, burning to death had been one of his greatest fears…well, that and never eating again. It was bad enough to suffer through one, but to burn and not die, to experience a kind of hellish nightmare like that…he finally uttered, his voice fearful and whiney, "Will we…feel anything? I mean, we're talking about fire, here, okay?"

Quite honestly, Elizabeth wasn't sure, but at times like this, a lie was as good as any uninformed truth. "We won't…feel a thing, I'm positive!" she smiled thinly, straightening her posture confidently, and then nervously swallowed.

Will glanced back at his betrothed and quirked one brow uncertainly, as if negating her comment.

And, Leo caught the expression, too. That was when he knew that Elizabeth wasn't at all sure about anything. Once again, he wanted this whole experience to be nothing but a bad dream. He sighed and turned back to the window again. As the ship hovered atop the wave, before it plunged over the edge, what he saw coming towards them caused him to gasp and grab the sill.

It seemed that from the time Don had made his proclamation, the pyroclastic flow – with its hot mass of steam-blended mud – had caught up with the ship. It rolled right up to and past them and at a speed so impressive, it was as if they were not only dead in the water, but sailing in the opposite direction and at full speed.

Suddenly, the volcaniclastic material engulfed the ship. As everyone on board screamed in terror, Don's prediction came true; the Black Pearl caught fire!

TBC

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