Alternative Ending – Chapter Eleven: Prize in Sight

Barbossa and his crew pressed on. The villagers were not much of a deterrent, nor were they hard to cut through. It seemed as though they had no means of defending themselves. They ran and shrieked from the pirate intruders. Barbossa was naturally merciless while on his quest, and his ruthlessness was as contagious as the plague. He and his men followed those who fled, believing that they would run to the sacred waters for protection and strength. In the pursuit, the villagers had led the crew to their protectors. Young and brawny warriors stood around in great numbers. Having heard the cries of their friends and family, these warriors were ready to take on the attackers. They had primitive weapons, but with the strength of their build, it was obvious that these warriors were accustomed to taking down all foes with nothing but their bare hands.

Barbossa and his men drew out their swords - they had wasted too many shots too hastily on fleeing prey. The warriors stood there stiffly, guarding their dependants, growling through their teeth like animals. More and more warriors, just as young and just as muscular, emerged from the caverns behind and joined in the growl, building up the tone until together they nearly roared.

Barbossa's men stood, weapons ready, but minds becoming more and more hesitant. Barbossa was not fazed by the obstacle ahead. At the sound of their roar Barbossa let out a fearsome roar of his own and ran in sword first, leading his men forward like a king on the battlefield. The crew let out their own cries as they too rushed forward. The two sides clashed and bellowed unwaveringly.

The warriors were swifter on their feet. Their hands moved with more speed and coordination than their opponents were capable of. Even with swords in the mix, many of the warriors were able to grab hold of the hands that bore it. Their fists were strong like iron, bone-crushing and impossible to shake off. Any man who had been claimed by a warrior's grip was nearly defenceless. Despite their unmatched speed and ability, the warriors were not invincible. The sword did pierce their skin and puncture their solid bones. A shot fired did penetrate flesh though it took a few shots to bring these supermen down. Seeing this, Barbossa knew that it was time for strategy. Weapons were their only hope. He called men back, ordering them to prepare shots. The rest of the men were to do their best to unite themselves, making a wall of men with strong swords.

Numbers dwindled on both sides, but the battle was not even close to being over.

Jack, Garcia and the boys pressed on, having lost sight of Barbossa and his men, but not having lost the trail. Their path led them to the battle scene. Garcia orders his workers to pick up the fallen weapons – they would be responsible for holding their own as Garcia pulled rope along. Jack readied his sword and handed his pistol over to his son.

"You know how to work one of these?" he asked.

Tristan took hold of the gun. "Point and shoot?"

Jack patted the boy's shoulder and said, "Good lad."

They watched the fight - Barbossa fearlessly battling two or three warriors at a time, while the warriors snapped men's arms in twain.

"Which side do we fight?" Garcia asked Captain Sparrow.

Jack thought it over. "No loyalty to any of 'em," he said. "We go forward."

"All are equal in the heat of battle," Garcia agreed. "Straight through, then?"

Jack nodded.

Captain Garcia tied the end of the rope around his waist and proceeded forward, wielding his sword and his pistol while simultaneously pulling the boys along. Jack put his hand on his son's shoulder and together they skirted around most of the action. Every now and then Jack put his sword to use or called for his pistol back. Tristan learned very quickly how to reload the barrel on the spot. The gun was tossed back and forth between father and son several times.

Garcia's eagerness proved to be unneeded. While Barbossa's crew was easy take down, the native warriors seemed repelled by his approach. His line of children seemed to cause the natives to halt in their attack. Garcia himself was still fair game but when he realized that it was the boys who were the repellent, he used them as a shield for himself.

Some of the warriors began to slow. Their arms were loosing strength. A single shot was enough to penetrate flesh and bone. Some of the warriors' coordination began to falter. As they began to wear out, some ceased fighting and ran back into the cavern. They did not seem concerned about Jack and Tristan's presence; they simply ran right past them. As they ran by, both the captain and his son could see that these once young and brawny men seemed altered. Muscle loosened and gave way. Hair thinned and colour faded gradually to white. Some of the warriors who remained in the fight went through the same alteration, some faster than others. Fallen bodies continued to change, gradually turning a strong thirty year old corpse into an aged ninety year old form. While there were still a number of warriors whose appearance and strength hardly altered at all, it was the change that caught everyone's attention.

Barbossa did not fail to notice Jack's arrival. His blood boiled to see that his rival was both alive and ahead. He hollered at his men to step up the pace. Barbossa shoved his way through the battle, his eyes set on Sparrow and the boy.

Jack had just retrieved his re-loaded pistol, leaving Tristan unarmed. The captain was too distracted to see Barbossa coming from behind with his gun aimed. Tristan knew that he couldn't do much to help, but he did what he could.

"Look out!" the boy cried, running at Barbossa, knocking his arm off target at he fired.

The shot missed Jack and ended up killing one of the crew members.

Barbossa let out an array of curses as he picked up his grandson roughly. Tristan tried to struggle away but couldn't free himself. Barbossa held the boy on his side and tucked him kicking and screaming under his arm.

"Tristan!" Jack shouted after his son.

Barbossa had seen Captain Garcia's success with a child-shield and so he tested his own grandson for the same purpose. The warriors were hesitant to strike at the child in his grip and Jack wouldn't take the risk himself. Making use of his advantage, Barbossa headed directly for the cavern. As more and more of his crew members were freed from the battle, they joined up with their captain.

There were more natives on the inside, but rather than fight, they fled further into the caverns. Barbossa threw Tristan to one of his men.

"Yer on the wrong side, boy!" Barbossa shouted at his grandson. "Smarten up or ye'll find yerself amongst the real monsters of this world!" Barbossa took out the charts and unrolled them. "Set 'em up!" he ordered.

Tristan was released but watched very closely as he rotated the panels. He moved them slowly and studiously, purposely scrambling them up. Barbossa's patience was already beyond thin. He grumbled and unsheathed his sword.

"This be no time fer games, whelp!" Barbossa hollered.

Tristan stood fearlessly, "I can't do it!"

"Yer lyin'! Sparrow ain't got the brains to do it himself. Finish it!"

"Let 'm alone," a weak voice called out.

Everyone's attention turned.

Ragetti stepped forward.

"He's just a kid," Ragetti said.

"Ye dare oppose me orders?"

Ragetti took Tristan by the arm and shielded the boy behind him.

"He's your grandson," Ragetti pleaded.

"He be naught but a Sparrow!"

"He's been through enough."

"Enough? Enough!" Barbossa shouted. He pulled out his pistol and fired a shot.

Ragetti fell. Tristan screamed.

Barbossa turned to the rest of his men. "And what of you? Any man here have courage enough to claim immortality? Or be ye naught but yellow-livered seacows?"

No man opposed him. Barbossa led the way down the cavern. His men followed. He did not look back.

Tristan sat over his fallen friend, trying to keep him alert. Tristan watched with tear-filled eyes as the rest of the crew walked on, not an ounce of loyalty in them – all but one.

"Him what falls behind, stays behind," Pintel recited, "that's what the code says."

"And you?" Tristan asked.

Pintel approached. "It's more like guidelines, really," he said.

Ragetti tried to laugh a little as he repeated, "Aye, guidelines."

Ragetti was badly wounded but so far it was not fatal. Pintel tried to get his friend to his feet, but Ragetti struggled to support any of his own weight. They propped him up against a wall and let him sit.

"No worries, Master Tristan," Ragetti said weakly. "I'll be fine." He patted Tristan's head and winced as the pain increased.