Chapter IX

The Kraken

Bree woke, her head clearing as well as her vision. She looked up. Bootstrap was leaning over her, looking down at her with concern. When he saw she was awake, he relaxed, "Ye're awake!"

Bree tried to sit up, but winced as her side flexed. She looked down. A bandage was wrapped around her torso. She grimaced, "How long have I been sleepin'?"

"Three days," Bootstrap answered, helping her out of her hammock. Bree looked at her back. The fins were growing again. Bree blinked back tears. A prisoner again.

Bree was back at work that day. She impressed everyone by not slacking, even though the gash in her side caused her pain. But Bree made a mental note to thank Bootstrap. He had taken good care of her! The wound wasn't infected and the bandage wasn't wrapped too tight.

Bree was taking a short respite when she saw Jones walking toward her. Bree turned her back to him, raising her head haughtily.

Jones sat down beside Bree, asking in a conversational tone, "How's yer side?"

Bree, startled that he was once again showing a slight concern for her, answered, "Aches, but it's fine. An' I have ye to thank for even havin' it! That was yer broadsword!"

Jones bristled, snarling, "Well, I hope it stings for a long time, then!" He was slightly hurt by her words. He had taken very good care of her! Of course, she didn't know that. And she never would!

Jones rose, walking away. Bree sighed in relief. Now she could rest for a while. Her side was on fire again, the stress on it causing her pain. But she still marveled at how well it had been mended. Bootstrap must have had some knowledge of the healing arts.

She sidled up to Bootstrap, "Never go to thank ye, mate. I'm grateful for yer help."

Bootstrap smiled at her, "Always ready to help a mate. I'm sorry yer side's still painin' ye. An' I'm sorry ye're back aboard this floatin' prison."

Bree winced as she flexed her side, gingerly touching the wound, "Well, ye did a fine job takin' care o' me, mate."

Bootstrap shook his head, "No, mate. I didn't do anythin'."

Bree looked up at him, confused, "But…no one here would help me! An' no one would handle it with such gentle hands!"

Bootstrap, still keeping to his oath of silence, looked at her, and then glanced at the captain. Bree followed his gaze. Her eyes widened when she saw the captain. No…no, not him!

Bree turned to Bootstrap, "No, he wouldn't have! Stop jokin'!" But Bootstrap only turned, going about his chores.

Bree's hand went to the bandage around her torso. Jones couldn't have done it! He didn't care if she lived or died! But if he did…why was Bree's heart beating so hard?

Bree was sleeping as peacefully as possible in her hammock, snoring contentedly. Suddenly, she was shoved out of it. She landed catlike on all fours, her wits still sharp. She looked up, her eyes hard. The bosun stood over her, grinning wickedly. He held his whip, but didn't use it. All he said was, "Cap'n wants ye on deck."

Bree hissed at him, "Ye can tell him to boil 'is head!"

Bree arched her back as the whip fell, but she rose reluctantly, shoving Jimmylegs to the side. She pulled on her jerkin, heading up onto the deck.

Jones was waiting for Bree. Bree was surprised to see him holding her sword in his hand. She looked up at him, cocking her head. She spoke, "Can I have my sword back?"

Jones twirled the blade deftly, and then said, "Aye, if ye're strong enough to get it." Without further ado, he drove it almost effortlessly into the deck, all the way up to the hilt. Bree's eyes widened. Anger began stirring in her. She bared her teeth, hissing, "Ye don't think I can pull it out?"

Jones shook his head, and then moved back, allowing Bree some room. The crew had gathered around to watch, taunting and jeering at Bree.

Bree strode forward, growling at her captain, "If ye could do it that easily, I can do it too!"

She bent, gripping the hilt. She began to tug, straining and grunting, her muscles standing out like whipcords. The tension and strain caused her side to go numb with pain. Everyone fell silent to watch, and only Bree's grunts could be heard.

Suddenly, the sword blade moved up an inch. Then another, and another, until it slid free. Bree stood, shaking splinters from the blade. She brandished it, twirling it. She looked up at her crewmates, and they all stepped back, fear on their faces. Bree snarled at them, and then turned to the captain. He hadn't moved or said anything. But he nodded to her, acknowledging her strength and, in a way, showing some slight respect…and admiration. Bree swallowed, nodding back. Why did she feel as if she…needed to say something?

Bree sheathed her sword, strapping it to her back. Then she turned, going back down into the hold. Her crewmates gave her room, not daring to anger her after her display of strength.

Bree climbed back into her hammock, grinning wildly. Ah, to have her sword back! 'Twas a lovely thing!

Bree stood at the prow, stroking the chain of a small necklace. It had been a gift from Jack, before they set sail on the Pearl from Tortuga. She hadn't told anyone about it. But at least she had something to link her to her friends.

Suddenly, the Dutchman lurched crazily. Bree was knocked over, rolling across the deck. She scrambled up, running to the side.

Bree stood at the railing, looking down into the water. She could see the water churning and frothing, but didn't know what caused it. She turned to look at her captain, but found her confusion reflected.

Suddenly, a huge, slimy tentacle shot from the water and coiled itself around Bree's waist. With a terrible, painful jerk, Bree was yanked from the ship's deck and flailed about in the air.

That was probably the first time Bree had ever really screamed. A true, blood-chilling, frantic, high-pitched scream, filled with absolute terror. She felt her ribs groaning and her wound on fire as the tentacle tightened, trying to crush her undead body. Bree cried out in agony as the huge beast's tentacles began suctioning the remaining skin from her back. Then she was slammed down into the water, the tentacle still crushing her middle.

Bree was able to jerk her sword free of the scabbard, wielding it with fading strength. She stabbed down into the giant tentacle, and felt it release. She disentangled herself and looked down. Then she saw it.

A huge squid.

The Kraken!

A scream burst from Bree's mouth in the form of a huge bubble. The beast must have either heard it or sensed her movement, for it turned towards her. Bree began flailing up towards the surface, but she felt the remaining breath wrenched from her body as another huge tentacle encircled her. This time it lifted her into the air, and Bree first sucked in a huge breath and used it all in her scream. She was tossed around like a rag doll, her sword still clutched in her hand. But she was too terrified to use it.

Suddenly, Bree was flung down, and she landed hard on the deck of the Dutchman. However, the Kraken wasn't letting her go. The tentacle snaked up the sides to come after her again. Bree scrambled up, her sword in her hands as she began backing away, her face pale and her eyes wide with horror. She bumped up against something and turned. Davy Jones grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close to him as if to protect her. He then made his way to the tentacle seeking Bree out, still holding the girl close to him. He tapped it gently with his claw, and like magic, the Kraken withdrew its limbs.

Bree was sobbing, actually clinging to her captain with fear. Jones, his arms still around Bree's waist, still held her tightly, but soon let go of her, acting as if he was disgusted. Bree cleared her throat, acting the same, but her heart was beating wildly. He had just saved her!

But it wasn't as safe as she thought. The ship lurched again and the tentacle rose from the water, swaying like a cobra.

Bree went pale again, unable to move from fear. Jones went to her and bent down, finally ripping Jack's necklace from her. The captain examined it, and then asked, "What is this?"

Bree didn't understand, "It's a trinket."

Jones went to the side of the ship and tossed the necklace out into the water. Bree gave a little sound of protest but kept away from the side, still fearful of the Kraken.

The little necklace floated on the calmed waves for a moment, when suddenly a huge mouth opened right underneath it like Charybdis herself. Huge fangs and claw-like structures grew from the inside, rows upon rows. The necklace was sucked down and the mouth snapped shut, descending back into the depths with a huge splash.

Bree's eyes had never grown so big. Her hands gripped the railing so hard that she actually formed grooves in the wood, and her mouth had dropped open. Her face was dead white, unspeakable fear gripping her.

Jones turned to the girl, somewhat enjoying her fear, but knowing he had other things to address, "Where did ye get that necklace?"

Bree didn't answer, still staring at the place where the Kraken had been. Jones growled. She was in shock. She wouldn't speak for days, most likely.

Jones struck Bree across the face again, but nothing fazed her. She sat like one dead, and then started to fall over. She would have fallen straight over the side if Jones hadn't grabbed her by her jerkin collar and hauled her back over. He dropped her carelessly, and she lay on the deck, her hands clenched near her mouth and her eyes never blinking.

Jones sneered in distaste. Let her lie there! He moved off, forcing himself not to look back. Somehow, relief was creeping into his emotions.

Bootstrap had seen his friend in the clutches of the Kraken, and knew that she was in too much shock to do anything. He came to her side, pulling her upright into a sitting position. He propped her up, and her back became rigid, and she was able to sit up on her own. Bootstrap angled her head around to face him, and spoke in a gentle voice, like one trying to sooth a frightened child, "Bree? Bree, it's all right. It's me. Don't worry, ye're safe. C'mon, mate, ye can't sit here all day!"

Bree's eyes looked straight at him, but she showed no reaction, recognition or any sign of real life. Bootstrap sighed, knowing it was useless. She needed to rest for at least a day. Bending down, he lifted her in his arms and made his way down to the hold. Placing her in her hammock, he positioned her so she wouldn't fall out. He would try to wake her from her coma in a few hours.

Bree's eyes had been open for three hours, never blinking. Now, they blinked. Bree came back to reality with a sharp gasp, still reliving the horrors of the Kraken. She sat up, feeling cold. She wrapped a ragged blanket around her shoulders, feeling her back. Several large suction scars were still throbbing with pain, and she still shook with lasting terror. Eyes wide and bloodshot, Bree forced herself to rise. She didn't want to face the captain.

Going up to the deck, Bree looked about for Bootstrap. He saw her first.

"Bree! Thank fortune ye're awake, mate! Are ye well enough to leave the hold?"

Bree absently patted his shoulder, looking past him with unsteady eyes, "Aye, mate…Where…where's the cap'n?"

Bootstrap steadied her and spoke, ''e's waitin' for ye, mate."

Bree winced, having no choice but to go to her captain.

Jones was at the bow, waiting for Bree. When she approached, he spoke, "Where did ye get that necklace?"

Bree felt her neck hairs rise as he said this. Something wasn't right, "From a friend."

Jones didn't seem convinced, "Recent friend?"

Bree swallowed, "Aye, sir."

Jones' tentacles became restless, moving agitatedly, "Who was it?"

Bree knew it now. Jones suspected Jack! She couldn't give him away! Jones might have seen that the Pearl was back but he still didn't know if Jack Sparrow was alive. She intended to protect her friend.

"Speak, girl!" Jones growled, his voice icy.

Bree tensed her lips, answering, "Why should ye care?"

Jones broke her gaze, standing and pacing back and forth before her, his claw clenching. He then whirled around to face her again, and Bree was sure he was going to beat her. But she was surprised. He had an agonized look in his eyes.

"Please…please tell me."

Bree's mouth fell open. Had her captain, Davy Jones, terror of the seas, just said please? To her? She was so surprised that she slipped, "Jack…" Her mouth snapped shut, but it was too late. She might as well say it.

Davy Jones' eyes grew hard again as he spoke the name with her.

"Jack Sparrow."