Chapter Eight: The Unexpected

Barbossa walked through Stone Chapel with a bounce in his step. He was glad to be back and the song in his heart led him cheerfully to his front door. His clothes were newly pressed and his hat was sophisticated with a large flamboyant feather dancing in step with each of Barbossa's polished boots. The leather bag he carried was filled with treasures and gifts for his family while a porter he hired trailed behind him carrying his personal luggage. He knocked on the door and smiled as his beautiful wife appeared before him. Barbossa removed his hat and bowed like a gentleman. Victoria stood there wide eyed, not fully believing that it was her husband standing there.

"Hector!" she said cupping her hand over her mouth. "Look at you!" she said aghast.

Barbossa gestured for permission to enter the house. Victoria slowly stepped backwards and held the door open. Barbossa entered. The porter placed the luggage down inside the doorway and asked if there was any other service that he could provide. Barbossa thanked him, declined the offer, and paid him a very generous amount. Victoria watched as the coins came out of the money purse. The porter left and Barbossa shut the door behind him. Victoria still stood silent. Barbossa remembered his gifts and quickly went to his leather bag.

"Where's Amelia?" he asked while pulling out a three stringed necklace of pearls and holding it firmly in the palm of his hand to keep hidden as best as he could.

Victoria sat down on one of the sofas.

"She's not here, Hector. She's out with the Bennetts," Victoria said.

"She expected home soon?"

"I wouldn't think so. We weren't expecting to see you, Hector," she said softly in a tone that seemed almost guilty.

It was not until that moment that Hector Barbossa noticed that the sofa his wife was sitting on was new. In fact most of the furniture seemed new. The walls were covered in a wall paper that was not there when he had left the house so very long ago.

"Where's all this come from?" he questioned his wife. "I thought we were too destitute fer such finery as this?"

Victoria hesitated to reply but she could see that her husband was demanding an answer.

"We were, Hector. Friends from church felt it in their kind hearts to provide for us. With my husband…I mean, with you gone and all," she confessed.

"Friends from church bought all this? That must have been some story ya told 'em. Was I dead to ye the day you threw me to the gutter, or did ya least wait 'til ya no longer saw me face by the dockside?"

"I never said that you were dead," she said in an attempt to make up for her ill treatment of him but it was no use.

At this point they could both hear the sounds of young voices approaching. It was Amelia and her friend Edith Bennet being escorted by Ms. Edith's older brother, Nelson. Barbossa darted towards the door but Victoria held him back.

"Please, Hector!" she cried. "Let me talk to her first. Don't start a scene, not in front of the Bennett children."

"What care should I 'ave for 'em! I've not seen me own daughter fer over a year now!"

"Please, Hector! I cannot promise that she'll know you, so please, let me talk to her first. I promise that I'll do nor say no ill. You have received the devil's scorn from me, I know, but for the sake of the child, please!"

Hector was persuaded to remove himself from the door. He went back into the sitting room but could not bring himself to sit down on a sofa that had replaced him in the house. He could hear the door open and his daughter's sweet voice fill the air.

"Mama, I'm home now!" Amelia called. She was taken aback by seeing that her mother was waiting for her. "Oh, you're here. Is everything alright, Mama? You seem sad. Did Colonel Crestcastle –"

Victoria cut off her daughter's sentence to keep Barbossa from hearing the context of the name, "No, dear. I am not sad. I must speak to you, though. Your father has…well…he has returned from his voyage at sea…"

"But you said…you said that he wouldn't come back!"

"I know, dear one. I know what I said," Victoria said as though she had been defeated. "I did not think that he would return."

"No! You didn't want him to! I told you when I saw him on the pier! I told you!"

"Amelia, calm down, please. I need to explain to you –"

Barbossa could take no more of his wife's double talk and so he stepped forward. He barely recognized his daughter. She looked like a little lady, but he still saw the sea in her eyes and the waves in her hair. Amelia stood with her mouth agape for a moment, looking franticly over at her mother and back at her father again. Barbossa extended his hand to her, he was not sure of how his daughter would respond. Amelia stepped slowly forward, looking at her father, trying to figure out if it was indeed him. She put her little hand into his palm and he squeezed it. Weeping, Amelia threw her arms around her father's waist and buried her face in his jacket. Barbossa knelt down. He gently framed her face with his hands and wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

"My little Amelia, how you've grown," he uttered to himself in awe.

"I knew you'd come back," Amelia said in-between sniffles.

"I'll always come back for you, Pet," Barbossa reassured her.

"Hector," Victoria interrupted the reunion, "Hector, so much has happened since you've been gone. I see that you have done well for yourself."

"Aye," Hector Barbossa said, slowly rising to a full stance, "I knew that you'd not take me back 'til I'd done so."

"I'm so sorry, Hector," she apologized.

"There's no need, my poor wife. It was me own fault. I should have known better than to take on such a selfish she-devil as a mother for my child. Your heart is cold iron, and always has been. Alas, I played the fool all too well."

Victoria was stuck dumb by his insult.

Barbossa took out the necklace that he had placed in his pocket and put it into his daughter's hands. Then he picked up his luggage bags and walked towards the door. He purposely left behind his leather bag. He had no need for those treasures since he had much more securely stowed elsewhere.

"Papa, wait!" Amelia cried running after him. "Don't leave!"

Amelia took her father's hand. Barbossa held it tightly and continued to walk out of the door.

"Amelia!" Victoria shouted charging after her daughter. "Hector! Hector, stop this! Hector, you cannot take her!"

Barbossa kept on walking with his daughter in hand.

"Hector, please! What will people think?" Victoria pleaded.

Barbossa did not stop, he did not even look back at his wife, he simply shot back the cold words of "They will think whatever ya tell 'em too, isn't that always the case with ye?"

"Hector, you cannot take her. Think of her future!"

"I will return her in due course. 'til that time, to the devil with you, woman!"

Victoria could follow no longer. She had thought about calling an officer to stop her husband, but Barbossa now seemed to be quite the successful gentleman, far surpassing her - until he spoke that is - and with the amount of wealth he seemed to have she would stand no chance in prevailing. Also, Barbossa would claim his right as the husband and father of the child, something which even Victoria could not bring herself to deny.

Barbossa took his daughter to the Roving Maid which was still being replenished with fresh supplies. Most of the crew was out spending the remains of their spoils but those who remained on deck stopped and addressed Barbossa, taking off their hats but looking rather confused at seeing him bring the young lady aboard. He took Amelia directly to his cabin where he finally put down his luggage and sat in contemplation of his current actions.

"Papa," Amelia said sweetly, "am I really going to go with you this time?"

Barbossa looked up at her hopeful eyes and said, "Aye. I cannot be parted from me own daughter fer so long a time. The sea life be not a good one fer a young girl, but least ye'll know what it is that yer own father does and why he must be away fer so long. I don't know what your mother has been sayin' about me all this time; to tell the truth, I don't rightly care a blink about what she said. I don't rightly know how I'd keep you here. I don't even think that I'm justified in tryin' it. It's selfish of me, I know it is. I won't make ya be here against yer own will, Amelia."

"I know you only want what's best. That's why you went away for so long, to make money for us. You don't need to worry about that anymore. Colonel Crestcastle takes care of Mama's money now. I would like to sail with you out to sea. I haven't forgotten the stories that you used to tell me. I've always wanted to see the ocean and hear the mermaids like you said you could," Amelia replied.

Barbossa left his daughter in the cabin while he went out to find his captain. He already knew that Captain Jack Sparrow would already be drunk in a tavern by now, nonetheless he wanted to be sure that he had his superior's permission, even if the consent would be forgotten as quickly as it would be given, which it was. Jack was found buying rounds for some new friends he had just recently made and was unsuccessfully trying to convince the bartender's wife to meet him out behind the shop where "he'd let her see the long cannon". This was the opportune time to ask the captain permission for anything.

"Captain," Barbossa greeted.

Jack grinned and lifted his mug, "Barbossa, you scurvy dog! Find that wife of yours? You work fast don't you, you little blighter. I could work so fast if the girl would come 'round!" he emphasised this last part, directing it plainly to the bartender's wife. Then he turned back to his first mate, "She'll come 'round, they always do," he whispered obnoxiously loudly.

"Aye, Captain, as you say. But I come to request a favour," Barbossa said in a very businesslike manner. "I wish to bring my daughter along with us for when we next set sail."

"Is she pretty?" Jack asked with glazed over his eyes.

"She be only eight years old, Captain," Barbossa replied.

Jack gave a little grunt of disproval but that was more directed at the age and not the request itself. He then got distracted and proceeded to ignore his first mate altogether. Noticing his captain's short attention span, Barbossa cleared his throat rather loudly.

Jack turned and looked up at the source of the noise, "Barbossa, you scurvy dog!"

"My daughter, Captain?" Barbossa repeated.

"I haven't got her, mate. My eyes are set on that one," Jack said pointing back at the bartender's wife until another woman caught his eye, "or possibly that one."

"Do I have your permission for her to accompany us, Captain?" Barbossa solicited once more.

"You have all of my permission. So much permission for acc- acc- accamp-"

"Accompanying?" Barbossa finished his captain's broken thought.

"Aye! That!" the captain said in a bound that nearly made him fall from his chair. He latched onto the table and pulled himself forward. "Why doesn't this man have a drink? Why don't you have a drink? Have a drink! Here, have my drink!" he said passing the mug up to his first mate. Just as quickly he took it away, "That's my drink! Get your own…miserable wretch… I love this man!"

Barbossa did not feel the need to linger any longer. He had received the answer he came for and expected to use it against his captain either the next morning or the next. With that he returned to the Roving Maid. In his cabin, Barbossa altered his desk area in order to accommodate a cot for his daughter to sleep in comfortably. The purchase was easy enough to make, that and clothing for his daughter since he had not bothered to linger in his wife's house long enough for Amelia to pack any belongings. The sober members of the crew questioned Barbossa but the first mate confirmed that he had received Captain Jack Sparrow's permission, followed by a threat that no one was to lay a hand on his daughter else he should soon feel cold steel in his gizzard.

Amelia remained confined to her father's cabin for the most part since Barbossa did not trust the ruthless and uncultivated men who crewed the ship. Captain Jack Sparrow, even after he had sobered up, did not know of the little Barbossa's presence until they were well underway. When he first saw the little girl, all dolled up in her layers of dress, he questioned his own level of consciousness.

"You look like a girl," he said quite puzzled.

"I am, Sir," Amelia replied puzzled at the statement addressed to her.

The captain called out to the men around him, "Look lively! Where'd this come from, then? I want to know who's responsible for this!"

Barbossa ran to his daughter and pressed her behind him.

"Captain, I had acquired yer permission to bring my daughter aboard. Her mother, I have told ya, means to corrupt the child against me," Barbossa explained.

"And when did I give said permission?" the captain asked.

"The day we docked at Stone Chapel, Captain, remember?" Barbossa said, knowing that the captain would never admit to not knowing anything.

"Of course I remember! Does she have to be so…" he was looking for a word to describe the awkwardness of her presence, and though he should have referred to her daintiness, the first thing that came to mind was: "small?"

"I will grow taller in time," Amelia defended for herself, but her father shushed her.

Jack was already annoyed by the thought of a child aboard. He did not like children, especially the dainty ones.

"Just keep her out of the way. Make her useful," the captain said all flustered like and then shouted at his men, "As you were, you mangy bilge rats!"

Captain Jack Sparrow was determined not to acknowledge the young girl anymore than he needed to. Likewise, Amelia Barbossa was determined not to like the captain for his excessive rudeness. In fact, the state of most of the people aboard the ship was appalling to her. Her fantasies of the sea life were slowly fading away. She quickly became prone to excessive complaining, whether it was about the food or the sheer boredom, since Barbossa would not "make her useful" as the captain suggested. It proved to be a terribly lonely time for Amelia, but she could not bring herself to ask her father directly to let her go back home to her mother. She did not need to, Barbossa could tell that his child was out of place, and that saddened him. Although he could still see the sea in her eyes and the waves in her hair, he struggled to see the freedom he once imagined was imbedded in her soul as deeply as his own. It would be too much to ask at this point to have the captain turn the ship around now, though it was questioned if he even had a specific course in mind anyways. All Barbossa could hope for was to shelter his daughter from any further unpleasantness. That turned out to be much harder than he expected it to be.