EIGHT: Parley Juice

"Black Pearl in sight!"

"Black Pearl in sight!"

"The Pearl?" Jack leapt to his feet, rubbing his hands together. The call had been echoed down from the crow's nest, and immediately orders were given to head towards the vessel. Jack looked around at the men, quickly getting to work, and then spotted Elizabeth. He quickly rushed up to her. "The Pearl!" Jack cried, waving an arm, "We have to get the Pearl!"

Elizabeth folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Parley, I suppose?" she asked, with a sigh. She had had the pleasure of doing parley with Barbossa before—and it had not ended well.

"What we need," Jack waved his hands vaguely, "Is a plan."

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"What are we doing so close to that thing?" Beckett asked, his voice strained with displeasure. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Basically, me and Jack are going to have a little chat over with Barbossa, once our vessels meet. We've signalled and everything—they won't fire on us," she smiled as reassuring as a nurse, although Beckett still seemed unconvinced, "Jack and I have to stay in the sight of Barbossa; but there is a certain item on the Black Pearl that we need. Fairly badly." She looked at Beckett, pointedly.

"And?" he asked, scathingly.

"Well, Beckett. We're at a loss for anyone to go and get it apart from you."

"You have an entire crew!" Beckett swept an arm around him, indicating to the men all around him, working the sails and whatnot.

"But they're not... just listen a second," Elizabeth said. Beckett rolled his eyes. Jack, had told Elizabeth that Beckett would be perfect for the job, and she was starting to realize why. "The item is a book. A book that has all of the myths and legends in it, apparently; it's small, with black leather covers, and is rather thick."

"Oh?" Beckett tilted his head, thoughtfully, but not yet struck with realization. "I used to have a book like that," he said, offhandedly.

"Jack said he stole it somewhere..." Elizabeth completed.

"The original manuscript was South African, believe it or not. Then it went missing, and I w-," Beckett suddenly blinked, the penny dropping with a loud clang. His head snapped around and was storming off towards Jack before Elizabeth could do anything. "Sparrow!"

"Oh, yes, Cutler?" Jack asked, forcing cheerfulness into his voice, though he took in Beckett's expression and quickly stepped around behind a barrel.

"That book," Beckett said, in a quiet voice that had about seven shouts' worth of anger stuffed into it, "Was mine. You stole it," he glared at Jack once more. Jack opened his hands out and shrugged.

"Temptation was too strong," Jack said with a crooked grin, "Pirate?"

"You weren't a pirate at the time. You were my lieutenant," Beckett's hands gripped the edge of the barrel, and he glowered at Jack accusingly over the top of it, "That book cost me a fortune, and I was only just beginning to crack its riddles, too."

"So you're perfect for this job, 'cause you know what it looks like!" Jack spread his hands out, "Simple, eh?"

"Yes, Jack," Elizabeth cut in at this point, "But Barbossa also happens to know what Beckett looks like. If he's spotted..." she pursed her lips, "I think it may just be the end of the line for dear Cutler." Beckett shot her a look that said, not you, too. Elizabeth had taken on Jack's sardonic name of 'dear Cutler' for him, it seemed.

"And wouldn't that be a shame?" Jack rolled his eyes.

"It would," Beckett pouted and folded his arms across his chest. Elizabeth looked from Jack to Beckett, and realized that she would have to take charge here; otherwise the two men's childish antics could end up being the ruination of their plans. Sighing, she put on her big, pirate king voice.

"Jack, get prepared with the gangplank for parley," she snapped, "Beckett, you are doing this whether you like it or not!" She fished a sword from a sheath at her side and whipped it to Beckett's face, "Understand?"

"Of course I do, I'm not an idiot," Beckett muttered through gritted teeth, tilting his face upwards to stop the uncomfortable resting of the flat side of her oriental weapon against his Adam's apple. Yes, I understand, he thought, But I definitely do not agree.

"Good," Elizabeth said smoothly, sliding the sword back into its sheath at her side, "Now get on with it."

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"Morning, Hector!" Jack said cheerily, "I hope you've been looking after me ship well!"

"Sparrow," Barbossa narrowed his eyes in a look of intense distrust, his mouth equally slit, as if opening it too wide may allow it to come to something resembling a smile; and that was not an impression he wanted to give to the loathsome pirate before him. "Where be the charts?"

"You two," Elizabeth said boldly, looking from one to the other, "We are here to discuss. Nothing more. What is it, exactly, that you two want?"

"The Pearl back!" Jack said immediately, looking around at his beautiful ship, as if in awe at its magnificence, even after all of the time in the past that he had spent looking at it. The black sails billowed magnificently, and his raggedy crew stood around, their faces pointed downwards in many cases, as if in embarrassment at seeing the captain that they had mutinied against twice now.

"And I be wantin' the charts, so this is easy enough, isn't it?" Barbossa said pleasantly, putting a paw on Jack's shoulder. Barbossa was much taller then all of them there, and his large hat was still perched atop his head, the ostrich feather swaying in the breeze.

"You aren't having the charts," Jack said, wagging a finger, "They came to be in my position fair and square; not like me ship came to be in yours."

"So I suppose I'll be keepin' the Pearl, then," Barbossa said, nonchalantly.

"Why not try a joint captainship?" Elizabeth suggested. The two men both stared at her, as if what she had just suggested was so ludicrous, it wasn't even worth the beginning of a thought.

"What can I trade for my beautiful vessel, apart from the charts?" Jack tried, hopefully.

"Nothing," Barbossa said obstinately, "Nothing else'll do, I'm afraid, Jack." Elizabeth realized that they could be there a while. At least that should give enough time to the other member of their ship who had crept on board the Black Pearl...

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Filthy, stupid, smelly pirates! Beckett slipped on board the Pearl along with Elizabeth, Jack and a few other of the Chinese crew, a woven straw hat covering his face well enough. Keeping his head ducked, he slid along towards the cabin wall, bobbed inconspicuously in the shadows for a moment, and then slithered down into the brig, down a damp ladder, which emitted a tiny, squeaky creak but not enough to cause concern.

Everyone up there had seemed fairly intent on eavesdropping on the little parley taking place up there, though Beckett would have been none too surprised if a brawl begun before not so long. They were only pirates, after all.

Trotting through the brig, he searched for what Jack had described as the 'rum-shelf'. Apparently, he couldn't miss it... finally, he came across the criss-crossed rack of wooden planks, with various bottles sticking out of it. He walked to the far end of it, knelt down to the damp wood that made up the floor rather distastefully, and squinted trough the blackness.

Two up, five across. He moved his hand forwards, and ran it along the little pigeonholes, until he came to what he thought was the correct one. Sighing impatiently, he wrapped his fingers around the cold top of a bottle, when suddenly, something small, indistinct and furry came screeching at him from the blackness.

With a barely suppressed yelp, Beckett shot backwards and ended up landing flat on his backside in a fairly undignified manner, which he detested. He made a grab for whatever had just attacked him in the darkness, missed, and then blinked at what he saw. Then he scowled.

That damned monkey.

NB: Yay, Jack the monkey!

NEXT TIME: "The honour of being called a pirate? Well, that's an oxymoron if I ever heard one, you-!"