The captains were eager to set sail. Their first excursion had been so profitable, they were anxious to collect more coins. Mr. Gibbs tried to warn everyone about the red sky that he'd seen; he said it was a bad omen and suggested that they wait a couple more days before sailing out, but no one would listen.
"Those are just old superstitions," Samuel remarked with a wave of his hand, not concerned with such things. "It's nothing."
Samuel took the lead with Jack and Barbossa sailing side by side behind him. They followed the same route as previous, and in three days, they met two British ships.
The fight lasted a couple of hours before the Brits finally surrendered. Cargo, coins and food were taken, logged and stored away. Casualties were heavy on the Brits' side, so there were just a few crewmen to put in the brig. Three joined Samuel's crew.
After helping Doc patch up wounds as best she could, Elizabeth grabbed some food from Cook and headed for the captain's cabin. Barbossa had fought and, while he had not been hurt, she had noticed that much of his fierceness had not been present. She was beyond worried and had been for weeks. He wasn't the same as he had been a few months ago. Even though he tried to hide it, he moved slower and spoke less often. He wasn't as affectionate with her as he had been, and they hadn't been together physically since the day after she returned from her rendezvous with the British officer in Antigua. She knew something was terribly wrong, and she had a nagging suspicion of what it was.
When Elizabeth walked in, Barbossa was in the middle of changing shirts, and she immediately saw the grimace on his face indicating that he was in pain.
"Wait – let me help you!" She quickly put the food on the table and rushed to his side.
After she peeled off the dirty, bloodstained shirt, Elizabeth gasped. The upper half of his body had numerous rashes all over it. She'd not seen them before, but she hadn't seen his bare skin in quite a while.
"What are these rashes from?"
Barbossa had a difficult time meeting her eyes as she helped him put on a different shirt.
"Not sure. I'll see Doc tomorrow. Maybe there be a salve that can heal them up."
"But what's caused them? I've never seen rashes like this before."
"I don't rightly know," Barbossa answered, avoiding her penetrating gaze as he sat down at the table where she put the food, grimacing again as he did so.
Elizabeth watched him as he picked up a spoon for the soup first. She'd asked before, but she had to ask again.
"You are taking your pills, aren't you?"
"Yeh know I am," he said with a sigh as he finished a spoonful of soup.
Elizabeth bit her lip as tears filled her eyes. She was scared and felt more helpless than ever. He was all she had, and she felt like he was slipping through her fingers.
"Then what's causing all this, Hector? Something's wrong. You're not the same as you were a few months ago."
Slamming his spoon down, Barbossa finally looked up at her and barked, "I be old, all right? If yeh want young and perfect, go back to yer blasted husband!" He regretted it the moment he said it, eyes falling back down to the soup bowl in shame.
Elizabeth stood in angry silence for a moment – too stunned and upset to say anything – until she turned and fled from their cabin, tears falling down her face.
In the empty and quiet space around him, Barbossa breathed deeply and let it out with a heavy sigh. "Damn," he whispered, shaking his head.
Elizabeth ran straight to Doc.
"Tell me you found him pills!"
Doc, who was tending to the injured, was caught off guard by her frantic entrance.
"Elizabeth, what's – "
"Tell me!" she exclaimed, wiping her face, desperate for confirmation that her suspicions were wrong. "Tell me that he's taking his pills!"
"Of course," Doc answered, leading her out of the small room and away from his patients. "What's happened? Is he all right?"
"I don't know," she cried, shaking her head. "He's got these rashes all over him, and I can tell that he doesn't feel well and not just from age or fighting. Something's wrong."
"Perhaps it's an allergic reaction to something," Doc offered, trying to appease her and watching what he was saying at the same time. "I'll see him tomorrow and give him a little wintergreen for pain. Maybe we can try some cupping, too. Why don't you go see Cook and tell him to make you some medicinal tea? It'll help calm you."
Elizabeth crossed her arms, still sniffing, eyes red and bloodshot. "I don't want tea. I want him to be all right."
"How about you help me change some bandages then?" he asked with a small smile. "Keep your mind busy, aye?"
Elizabeth wiped her face again, took a deep breath and nodded.
It was well after two in the morning before Elizabeth finally climbed in to bed. She was still scared and emotionally exhausted.
Barbossa shifted beside her. He hadn't been able to sleep; his comment to her earlier had been away out of line, and he knew it.
"Elizabeth, I – "
"I don't want an apology." Her voice was quiet in the dark that surrounded them.
Barbossa cleared his throat. "But I shouldn't have said what I said. It was out of line."
"Yes it was."
"I – uh – didn't mean it."
"I should hope not."
Both were quiet for a minute until Barbossa said, "Yeh not be the only one worried."
Elizabeth rolled over towards him then. "I know you're scared, Hector."
"Not scared…just worried."
Elizabeth smiled a bit in the dark as she felt little Jack adjust his position at the foot of the bed. The furry critter had taken to sleeping close to Barbossa as of late, sometimes snuggling in between them.
"Ever prideful," she whispered, reaching for his hand. "It's okay to be scared sometimes."
"Hmm. So they say. Please don't be angry with me, Elizabeth."
"I was for a while, but I'm not now."
The gentle rocking of the ship had them asleep in minutes, their hands entwined on the mattress between them.
Three days later, two more British ships were successfully taken, however, Barbossa and Elizabeth remained in their cabin throughout the entire event. She'd told Gibbs to station two crewmen to guard the door – that they would not be joining the fight. No one was surprised; everyone knew that Barbossa was not well. The celebration, while usually quite boisterous, was relatively quiet.
A week later, another British ship was taken, but Barbossa was still in bed. Elizabeth noticed that there was more hair on his pillow than what should have been and that his skin looked a little pale, but she didn't mention it to anyone. Little Jack stayed with Barbossa as the captain barely left his cabin. She tried to keep him up to date on what was happening, but he didn't seem to care. He said very little.
Samuel and Jack continually called over from their ships to see how he was – to which only Elizabeth was allowed to answer - but they never asked to come over; they knew better. Even though on different ships, they had taken over running Barbossa's with Gibb's help and direction.
Over the course of another month at sea, the trio of ships had been exceedingly successful. Their holding areas were stocked full of crates and drums and such to take to Nassau to exchange for coins. Any other time such a grand thing would have been celebrated amongst the crew, and the overall atmosphere would have been quite lively and jovial.
The atmosphere on the Imperial, however, was anything but jovial. Barbossa had been bedridden for the past few days, and he hadn't eaten in the past twenty-four hours, having slept for seventeen of them.
Elizabeth was numb to what was happening around her and rarely left their cabin. She'd cried and screamed until she'd made herself sick – the latter happening after Doc finally broke down and told her that Barbossa had not taken any pills since around the time he'd been wounded in his side during one of their last attacks before joining Samuel. Barbossa had sworn him to secrecy, but he couldn't remain silent any longer. The when and why were pointless, though – the damage was done.
Barbossa was dying, and there was nothing that she could do but watch. The crew, mostly Gibbs and Ragetti, checked on her and brought her food and drink but left them alone otherwise.
Elizabeth felt as if she were in a bad dream that she couldn't wake from. She'd lost everybody that she'd ever loved. She couldn't figure out what she'd ever done to deserve her fate and eventually told herself that she was cursed. She decided that once she returned to Nassau to get her share of coins, she'd go back to Shipwreck Cove and live out her days alone. The thought of losing one more person was so much more painful than being alone would ever be. She felt like she was dying, too. And sometimes she wished she was. At least then she'd be with all those that she'd lost.
When the alarm bells rang out to indicate approaching British ships, Elizabeth didn't even flinch. When Gibbs rushed in to tell her that there were four British ships – a fact that had all three crews scrambling to try to compensate for – Elizabeth should have been frightened, but she wasn't. A small, selfish, hopeless part of her thought that maybe her suffering might be near an end. She climbed in to bed with Barbossa – who looked nothing like himself with flaky skin and sunken eyes – and laid close to him as she listened to the yelling and clashing of swords and weapons firing for what seemed like hours.
Eventually, Pintel came in to tell Elizabeth that there was no victor; that all seven ships had been hit hard, that the British ships had limped away while they'd done the same. Their ship in particular had a broken fore topmast, numerous holes in the sails, a damaged rudder and hull plus others that he hadn't accounted for yet; Jack's and Samuel's ships were in similar conditions. Casualties were high for all, too, and no cargo had been taken from anyone.
With no reaction, Elizabeth simply said from where she lay tucked into Barbossa's side, "Head for Nassau when we can. We're done."
Pintel said nothing and closed the door behind him quietly.
Thirty minutes later, there was another knock on the cabin door.
"Enter."
Elizabeth did not expect to see Nathaniel and immediately noticed the blood on his shirt.
"How bad?" she asked, referring to the injury that she knew he had.
"Flesh wound," he answered with a shrug, his hat in his hands. "Told the doc to work on the more serious first."
"I've got some supplies in here. I'll bandage you up for now." She climbed from the bed with little energy to fetch what she needed.
For the next fifteen minutes, Elizabeth and Nathaniel were fairly quiet as she cleaned up the wound as best she could and covered it with bandages.
"Nathaniel?" Barbossa's voice was barely more than a whisper as Elizabeth and Nathaniel rushed to the bed. He hadn't spoken in at least three days.
"Yes, Father?" he said. "I'm here." He'd never called Barbossa that before, but he'd said it with no hesitation.
"Take me…outside."
It took a few minutes to get him ready, but Elizabeth wanted to make sure that Barbossa was fully dressed with his overcoat and hat before Nathaniel helped him from the cabin and out to the deck. She wanted the captain to look like himself – what everyone was used to – if he was going to leave the cabin. She didn't know what possessed him to get up, but she was too glad to question it.
The deck was a mess and crewmen were everywhere cleaning up and starting repairs, but when word got out that Barbossa was out of his cabin, all of the crew that were able gathered on the deck to see him.
With his son's help to keep him steady as they stood just a few feet from the cabin door, Barbossa turned his face towards the heat of the sun and smiled just barely.
"It be a beautiful day, don't it?" he asked, his quiet voice scratchy and weak.
No one made a sound. The deck had never been so eerily silent.
"Yeh be a good boy, Nate," Barbossa continued, looking at his son proudly. "The Imperial be yours."
With no warning, the captain's knees buckled. Nathaniel barely caught Barbossa as they both fell to the deck, the captain leaning back against his son's chest. The crew gasped as Elizabeth rushed to his side.
Noticing that Barbossa wasn't moving and that his eyes were closed, Elizabeth – who had been stoic for the past month – was suddenly frantic. "Hector!" she cried out, cupping his face in her hands as tears streamed from her eyes. "Hector…can you hear me? I'll go get Doc…you'll be all right…we'll…he'll… - "
Nathaniel placed his fingers against the side of Barbossa's neck to check for a pulse, but he couldn't find one. Trying to swallow the lump in his throat, he looked up at Elizabeth with tears pooling in his eyes and said quietly, "He's gone."
Elizabeth's anguished wail could be heard clearly throughout all three ships.
Hector Barbossa was dead.
I daresay some of you probably saw that coming...some others of you may have not. I'll just remind you that I do have another chapter or two to post. We're not done yet.
Thank yous to Lady vampire of vampires and Bloodsired for reviewing the last chapter. I know I've lost a few people along the way, but once this is complete, I'll send out messages so people can go back and catch up. So many just don't like incomplete works. I get that. It's ok.
Since losing Mom three years ago, I can't even begin to tell you the kind of emotional HELL I've gone through. If you've lost your mom, you'll know. If you haven't, BE PREPARED...that's all I can say. It has affected every single aspect of my life, including being able to write and post on a regular basis. Thankfully, I can say that I'm finally seeing some light at the end of a very dark, tumultuous, scary tunnel.
So, thanks again...even to those lurkers who read but never comment. (I've done that, too.) Hope everyone has had a great summer.