A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry updates have been a little slower than usual, I've been a bit busy... I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
Chapter XXII
" 'ello, Dad," Jack replied cautiously.
"We brought 'im back for ye, just like ye asked us," Natalie asserted cheerily.
"Aye, that you did, pet," Teague replied. "You and your husband may leave now, this doesn't concern ye."
"But –"
Jansen put a hand on his wife's shoulder to silence her. "Yes, sir," he replied with great respect.
Once the couple was gone, Barbossa drawled, "So good of you to make it, Jack" from his seat.
"Yes, well, I am a member of this Court, am I not? Although, it seems were are missing a few… attendees."
His eyes darted around the table, jumping from a large African man in some sort of tribal attire, to a man wearing makeup. He, unlike his hulking companion, wore a wig and decidedly frilly frock, with smears of rouge on his cheeks; almost like the women with painted faces I'd seen in Tortuga. The last person at the table was a very tanned and stocky man, with a thick leather vest and a feathered, broad-rimmed hat and a graying beard.
Jack was blocking me from getting a good view; however, every time I tried to poke my head out to observe the company, he moved and thus concealed my presence.
"Aye," Teague concurred, "Not all the Pirate Lords saw it fit to attend this gathering, seeing as they hadn't been impacted by the wrath of ole Blackbeard; Edward Teach 'imself was against the code in attackin' another pirate without the chance o' parlay – a grave offense. Because his prizes were taken illegally, it is now necessary that they be redistributed."
"Mistress Ching's got a veritable fleet at her command," Barbossa added, "N' the others? Well, the other's either didn' get the message or they ain't interested. Either or. Our friends in the East most certainly were not robbed by the dead bastard, so they've no business here… And I see ye've brought yer faithful dog with ye, as always," he spat in reference to Gibbs. I glanced from one to the other, and it became very apparent that there was some bad blood between the two.
"Actually," Jack answered, "We left the dog on the ship." His tone was somewhat more annoyed than usual, and I could see that Barbossa brought out a different side of him.
"Excusez-moi," the powdered man butted in, "But who is la belle jeune fille?" [1]
"Ah, Chevalle, you old goat," Jack said with a grin, "Nothing gets passed you, does it?"
The Frenchman merely raised his darkened brows pompously and stared. Eventually, Jack gave in and stepped aside so I could be seen.
"She's a fine one, Sparrow, even for you. Such pelo rojo," the short man with a thick Spanish accent laughed. [2]
I locked my gaze on Teague, interested to see what his response might be. He didn't seem impressed or appreciative, but pensive. He looked like a man who'd seen a thing or two in his day, so I didn't doubt that he had an inkling as to what I was; especially given the fact that I was traveling with his son, who'd acquired a reputation in his own right.
I quickly decided that I didn't enjoy being put on display and tried to shrink back behind Jack. We were very, very close, and I could smell the scent rum and spices wafting off of him.
Just when they all seemed to have adequately soaked in my appearance, Barbossa cut in, "Wait a moment; come into the light, lass."
Jack smirked at this and gently nudged me forward. His hand lingered on the small of my back, and I found that I didn't mind at all; in fact, I found it reassuring.
"It can't be," muttered Barbossa.
"What is it, mate?" Jack baited.
"That girl."
"My dear Cassiopeia?"
"Aye, that be her name, true enough," he croaked. His and was outstretched, almost as if he expected me to approach him. I intended to do no such thing, and instead glanced back at Jack nervously.
He took this signal, grabbing my wrist in a false show of possession. He pulled me back to his side and asked, "What about 'er?"
"I've seen 'er before…"
"Enough with the girl!" the man in the tribal garb boomed, slamming his open palm on the table. His voice was rich and intimidating. "I want my ships," he demanded.
"And you'll get them!" Jack assured him, waving his hands about wildly. He motioned for Gibbs to bring him the sack, and then proceeded to dump the contents onto the table before them. Around a dozen glass bottles spilled out, each containing a different ship.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est cette folie?" Capitaine Chevalle demanded in outrage. [3]
"Well, it's just what you asked for," Jack answered coolly.
"What is this witchcraft?" the same tall man, who I surmised to be Gentleman Jocard, questioned.
"You knew of this," the Spaniard, Villanueva, accused Barbossa.
"Aye, I knew of it," he shot back defensively.
"What are we supposed to do with these – these bottles?" said Chevalle in his heavy accent.
"Beats me," Jack replied dismissively, "You all are the ones who summoned me here. I'd have thought you had a plan – you did seem so adamant…"
"You tricked us," Jocard shouted at Barbossa.
"Tricked? Nay! Left out some details? Well, perhaps…"
"This was a waste of time," Villanueva added, "I sailed all the way from the Adriatic for this?"
"Aye, Lord Barbossa, you did in fact fail to mention this very significant detail," Teague said.
"Ships're ships," the man in question began, "Should they not be divvied up as fit?"
"To what end," Chevalle replied, "I did not come here for some trinket to display on my mantel!"
I briefly turned my attention to Jack; he seemed very content to simply watch the exchange. In fact, he rather seemed to be enjoying it. Teague seemed to have taken a stance similar to that of his offspring, and was seen lounging in an armchair whilst strumming away at a guitar.
It was Jocard who spoke next; "This is no mere trinket," he explained, "But the product of the supernatural. These are our ships, aye, but not as we knew them. Blackbeard used some black magic to get them into this state."
"So it is reversible?" Villanueva questioned.
"I do not know," Jocard replied.
"That would be an excellent question for our dear Captain Sparrow, would it not?" Barbossa interjected.
Jack held up his hands in surrender. "Don't lookit me," he said.
"C'mon, Jack. We all know ye'd stop at nothin' to make the Pearl yers. Ye've either figgered out how ta change 'em back, or yer in the process of doin' so."
"Hector is right," Chevalle agreed.
"Aye," said Jocard.
"Si, any man who would sell his soul for a ship would go to any other lengths to bring her back," Villanueva reasoned.
"Is this true, Jackie?" asked Teague, "Do ye really know how to restore these ships to their original state?"
"I – " Jack stammered.
"Ye know that it be against to code to withhold valuable information from the Company; ye swore to this the day ye became a Pirate Lord."
"Alright, I admit, I may possibly know of a way; but it is daft and very perilous – well, more daft and perilous than my usual endeavors, in any case. And I shall only tell ye the information, but nothing more. What ye do with it is your own prerogative."
"Go on," Jocard prompted impatiently.
He shot the other man an irked glance, but continued nevertheless. "I have been informed by a certain clandestine source –"
"Qui?" Chevalle demanded. [4]
Jack sighed; "An old friend, I doubt you know 'er. Anyway, said source brought it to my attention that there be but one way to reinstate these ships."
"And what is this way!" asked Villanueva.
Sparrow, sufficiently tired of being interrupted, said, "Will ye just give me a bloody moment, I'm gettin' to it! Right. As I'd been sayin'. The only way to reinstate these ships requires a trip to Atlantis and a drop o' blood from their chief."
"Atlantis?" Villanueva said, "That's hogwash. No such city exists, at least not anymore."
"No, it does indeed exist," Jocard said regally. "I have seen it with my very own eyes. It is not a place easily come by, however. I must know, who is your friend who gave you this information?"
"Cecily. Of Isla Flotante," Jack caved in finally with an exasperated roll of his eyes.
"You mean Circe, boy," Teague said, setting down his guitar.
Jack smirked slightly. "She's goin' by Cecily nowadays, Da. But I can see it's been a while…"
Chevalle started, "The goddess Circe – "
"Sorceress, not goddess, mate," Jack corrected insolently. "Apollo wasn't kind enough for that." [5]
"She is immortal nonetheless, so it matters not," the Frenchman snapped haughtily. "Circe cannot be trusted – she hates men and will stop at nothing to lead them to their deaths. I refuse to put my trust in such a fiend."
"Then don't," Jack said indifferently. "All I know is I plan on finding Atlantis and bringing me ship back to its glory, savvy? What you all do is none of my concern."
"There have been a few men," Jocard started, looking from Teague to Jack (the father and son seemed to be sharing a secret, self-satisfied smirk), "to whom the witch imparts valuable information. Odysseus was one. I do not doubt that Sparrow was another."
"Aye, Jack seems ta have a way wit' vicious beasts… 'Specially those o' the feminine variety," Barbossa concurred, staring directly at me. This did not slip Sparrow's notice.
"Well," he started warily, "this little tête-à-tête seems to be over, so, if you don't mind, I'll be on me way. If any of ye mangy scoundrels needs me, I'll be at the Cutlass."
With that, he strode out the door, towing me behind by my wrist. Gibbs followed loyally and I couldn't help but notice the dog-like quality in him that Barbossa had pointed out.
"Did that go as planned, Cap'n?" he asked when we were out of earshot.
"Perfectly," Jack answered bluntly. It was impossible to tell whether or not he was being serious.
Once we were outside, I said, "Jack, you can let go of me."
"Oh. Right. Of course," he said, releasing me immediately. It might have been my imagination, but he seemed mildly flustered.
"Are we really going to the Cutlass?" I asked.
"O' course!" he answered jovially. There was still a line of people at the entrance, but Jack bypassed all of them. There was an angry uproar, to which he replied, "Oi, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Shut it." Shockingly, he was, for the most part, obeyed. He sashayed in; the atmosphere was just as I expected: dim, dusty, sweaty, loud, and smelly, like all the other taverns we'd visited. I soon spotted the rest of the crew, but Jack didn't seem interested in joining them.
"Everyone else is over there," I stated.
To which he replied, "I know."
"Then why aren't we going to them?" I asked as he led us to the opposite side of the room.
"Because we're not done," he answered simply.
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see."
The three of us sat down at a vacant table. "What now, Jack?" Gibbs inquired gruffly.
"Now, we wait," he replied with a shadow of a smirk playing across his lips.
A/N: Translations, for those of you who are curious:
[1] "Excuse me, who is the pretty young lady?" (French)
[2] "Such red hair." (Spanish)
[3] "What is this madness/folly?" (French)
[4] "Who?" (French)
If any of these are wrong, feel free to correct me.
As for [5], I made this up... Apollo used to do this sort of thing (fall in love and then fall out of love), if I'm remembering my mythology correctly. It varies by source as to whether or not Circe is a goddess or a nymph or a sorceress, etc., but I'm going with sorcereress...
So yeah! Pretty please review :)