Undoubtedly, Geneva's act had earned her the trust of captain. Barbossa immediately granted her special treatment aboard the ship, and she could not complain. The man had certainly been raised to treat women with decent respect. With her special treatment also came protection, and Geneva gladly accepted this without hesitation, for the rest of the crew, although not especially superstitious, was wary of her.
They generally refrained from bothering her, especially when Barbossa was near, but she could sense their discontentment with her presence. She normally didn't let that kind of premonition bother her, but she felt the need to prove herself: not worthy, but capable. She was already dangerous, clearly. But she was looking for respect, something which she had not yet gained from the mutinous crew.
Certainly though, there was something far more desirable on their minds. Their greed was evident. The treasure's coordinates were theirs, and there was no hesitation from any crew member to set sail in the direction of Isla de Muerta.
Geneva didn't participate in the work aboard the ship all too often. Barbossa had granted her an unspoken immunity from sailors' work. She knew that he had taken a special liking to her. He did all that he could verbally to please her and spoil her. He never uttered her real name, but instead referred to her affectionately as "lassie." Hector had certainly taken note of the fact that Geneva appeared to be much younger than he was, so his pet name for her was a conscious reminder of their severe age difference.
Along with his flirtation towards her, the captain generously gave her a room to herself, which was situated just off from his cabin, undoubtedly for reasons which Geneva didn't have to ponder. It was a nice, comfortable bit of a room, as it was furnished with the nicest finds on board the ship at the time: a chair, a tall mirror, and a reasonably comfortable bed with fairly warm sheets. It wasn't by any means extravagant, but in context of what the ship had, it was much nicer than all of the crew's quarters combined.
Geneva enjoyed Barbossa's favor of her. He had an interesting character. He was quite an intelligent man, and although he wasn't the most handsome of men, knew how to use words, and excelled in coquetry. He was adamant to pursue her, and though Geneva wasn't exactly looking for a partner, she figured that she could ride her way to the top of the ladder much faster than she could climb on her own.
The Black Pearl made her arrival at Isla de Muerta with good time. There was a fog upon the rocky island, hardly framing it with cheerfulness. It was not what Geneva had imagined it would be, but certainly it was foreboding. It sat rather lifeless in the middle of a dense cloud, hardly visible from even a mile away, and the closer the ship came, the more dead it looked.
"I wonder why it's called Island of the Dead," Geneva murmured to herself, looking upon the blackened, murky rocks, not really asking, but guessing that there was a very related answer. Certainly names were not bestowed without some kind of reason, and the Spanish were not fools when it came to this island in particular.
The anchor was dropped and the crew hastily lowered a couple of rowboats into the unsettling waters. Geneva brought herself along to see, for she had never laid eyes upon any gold before. The wonders of riches as Hector described them were admittedly beyond his vocabulary, and he beckoned her to see for herself, so she couldn't refuse.
The island's geography was such that it was useless to climb atop the steep, jagged rocks. After some searching though, the crew finally found an entrance to a cave, and went inside. It was dark and wet, the sounds of dripping water echoing enough for Geneva to realize how deep the cave really was. The crew eventually lit some torches to better continue through the tunnels without stumbling about, and once that kind of order was established, Barbossa made his way to the front of the brigade, his lass holding onto him by his arm.
They finally made it into a large expanse in the cave, and the torchlight glinted on the surfaces of fine gold cups and statues, physically arousing gasps from the men. As Barbossa pushed forward, more of the crew behind him shuffled in to touch the cups and trinkets and stow some away in their shirts. Barbossa ordered more torches to be lit, and this was done quickly, revealing the grandeur of the riches they had found. Goblets and coins sat in piles, and gorges of jewelry and golden figures tumbled over rocks and into puddles of water.
But, atop the grandest mountain of treasures was a solid gold chest, wet and glimmering with temptation. Barbossa immediately headed forward to the trove, and Geneva followed him, the rest of the crew fishing through the rolling hills of riches.
Barbossa opened the top of the chest and peered inside, and suddenly, the room was quiet. Geneva could only stare. Barbossa ran his grimy fingers across the top of the gold pieces, making them clink together. The crew gravitated toward the chest. The captain's eyes were filled with awe. He picked up a handful of the coins and held them up for the crew to see. There were subconscious whispers of awe as he let them drop into the chest again. It was filled to the brim with these coins. There had to be hundreds of them.
"Take what you wish back to the ship, gents," Barbossa said finally, greed dripping from his voice like the froth from a rabid mutt. "But first, bring this chest of medallions." A few men heeded the captain's orders and headed up the pile of gold to retrieve the chest. Geneva sat behind the chest, reading the inscription on it. It was in an old Spanish dialect, and she could barely understand it, but that was because it was written cryptically. The figurative meaning was not blatant, so literal meaning was the first thing she could read, and it didn't make much sense.
The men heaved at the chest, but they could not lift it. They tried again, groaning and complaining, but to no avail.
"It can't be lifted," Geneva said, continuing to squint at the side of the chest. "It's bound here by the gods of the earth." That was the most she could get out of the first line. It seemed to make some sense.
"Then get bags and take the coins with you," commanded Barbossa, and the men nodded, returning to the ship to get bags for the gold and for whatever else they wanted to bring. Then, the captain turned back to face Geneva, who was still crouching behind the chest, trying to decipher the meaning.
"You can figure out what it says, can you?" Barbossa asked, picking up a few coins in his hand and rubbing them.
"It's not obvious," she replied, continuing to stare at the words before her. "It's Old Spanish, and some of these characters I've never seen before."
Barbossa made a grunt of acknowledgment, continuing to sift through the coins.
"Some of what it says doesn't make any sense," she continued, standing up with an unsure expression on her face. "But it does seem to mention some kind of curse."
Barbossa scoffed. "Many curses are empty in nature," he said, lifting up a coin and examining it. "Used by the jealous to scare off the worthy."
"Even when gods are involved?" questioned Geneva, and Barbossa looked at her with unconvinced inquisition.
"'Thieves of the Sun shall be damned by the Moon,'" she read off the side of the chest, and Barbossa sighed. She continued. "It's a rough translation, but if that doesn't sound foreboding, I don't know what does."
"Lassie," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her gently towards him. "If it's in Old Spanish, it was written by men. And men are terrible at hiding treasure. If it were truly cursed by the gods, we'd have never found it, and the gods would have it for themselves." Geneva doubted that was the case, but said nothing, absent-mindedly allowing Barbossa's hand to caress the skin of her neck.
"But here we are," he chuckled. "And it belongs to us now. So, an unlucky man is left to wade in bitterness while we bathe in glory." She looked up at him, and he brushed her cheek assuredly before returning to order the crew to begin filling the bags with coins.
Geneva stayed back from it all. She, unlike Barbossa, knew that heathen gods indulged in watching men succumb to their curses. They toyed with men like felines and helpless rodents. So, she didn't touch the gold. She didn't know what the curse meant, but she didn't want to find out personally.
Barbossa didn't mind that Geneva hadn't bothered in helping with the gold. She was a woman, and he wasn't going to have her dirtying her hands with the object of the crew's greed. He found a pure woman far more of a prize than a tainted concubine anyway, so he was glad to let her do what she wanted. She was happier that way, and Barbossa wasn't opposed to that. It was also quite evident to him that she wasn't all that interested in the gold in the first place.
He had already figured out that Geneva wasn't easily controlled. She didn't show it very often, but she had a spirit that couldn't be tamed, no matter how hard he tried. She was extremely evasive without ever looking like she was, so he couldn't get a purpose out of her, even if he tried to flatter one out of her. He had guessed that she was after something larger than herself, though, and that was a rather broad conclusion to begin with, so he stopped worrying himself with it. She didn't have the power to massacre a crew of the Pearl's size or caliber, nor did she appear to have the incentive. As far as he could tell, she was just enjoying the attention, and he had plenty more of it to give her.
The crew took piles of the filth back with them to the Pearl. They took trips back and forth from the cave to drag more of it on board, until there was hardly anything left in the cave. Then, they sailed back in the direction of civilization and made straight for the merchants and vendors.
Each man aboard was given a sum of gold to call their own, with the captain getting the most, of course. The ship sailed all about Europe and the Atlantic, buying all kinds of goods with their newly found wealth. They bought every kind of extravagant thing, from jewelry to food, furniture to rum, clothing to pleasurable company.
Geneva didn't participate too much in the excessive spending. The acquisition of material goods wasn't all that important to her, for she had lived most of her life with little more than what was on her back. She was used to barely getting by, and although she wasn't opposed to an extravagant lifestyle, she had a different view on what made life so exciting, and it wasn't laden with the rich wooden furniture, heavy tasseled drapery, and fine dining of the upper class.
Barbossa felt the need to shower Geneva with her share of gifts, however, and began a new habit of spoiling her with materialistic things, all of which things he admired when adorned upon a fair lady. He couldn't pass up on any chance to pamper her, whether by means of expensive furnishings or handsome dresses. He found a beautiful burgundy dress with untouchably soft fabric and deep black lace in Spain, and immediately gave it to her as one of the most expensive items he bought for her. Geneva really hadn't worn dresses for a long time, but it was certainly a find in itself, and she decided she would appease him for a while. She didn't have anything better to do at the time.
The moment she put it on, though, she had begun a list of reasons in her mind why she wanted to take it off. It was as comfortable as a lady's dress could get, but she didn't appreciate her bosom being so visible to whomever wished to look at her. She felt as though she was reduced to mere eye candy, a shiny-coated race horse being paraded around for the highest bidder to slap it on the rump to see how high it would rear. It seemed Barbossa's only purpose in getting her the dress was to see her in it, and then maybe to see her without it, and she wasn't exactly in accord with that notion. She wore the dress long enough to please him, and then, she never wore it again.
Barbossa was not overly hurt by this action, for he already knew her nature with such things. She didn't like to be the fool of the situation, and was very aware of how she looked in such a sultry dress. She was more interested in clothing that she could move about in, things that had practicality and purpose to them, and so, Barbossa bought her a nice little hat with a feather on it, after noting that she had an interest in extravagant looking hats. They were symbols of status, which was probably why she admired them, so he decided to indulge her interests so that she could better indulge his. Certainly, this was something that Geneva was not often seen without, and it was a gift that she actually appreciated. At this point, Barbossa knew her character, and was sure that she was not a simple child in need of attention or spoiling. She saw no use for impractical things, and found her enjoyment in the things that many men did: fame, glory, and influence.
The crew was not so understanding of her, however. Although they never quite voiced their opinions of her, she was nothing but a wretched vixen to them. She was something they couldn't approach, heavily guarded by the dominant and territorial assertions of the captain, but they didn't really want to, despite how tempting she really was. They never outrightly abused her in any way, but they bore this notion in mind whenever they were around her or spoke to her. They generally steered clear of her, and so she did for them as well. She was not fond of them, and neither were they of her, so there was constant rigidity.
There came a night where the crew had pushed off from port and headed out to sea again, floating pompously in their ark of riches out in the midst of open sea. There was nothing special happening that night, and the clouds from earlier storms were beginning to clear, allowing the moon to shine brightly down upon the beautiful ship. The Black Pearl wore its highest majesty during these times, although there were too few onlookers to witness it, including the crew, who was too often down in the hull drinking and sleeping during these hours.
Geneva was bored of her cabin and had decided to go out to the deck to listen to the waves, when she met two imbecile swabbers known as Ragetti and Pintel, probably the most superstitious pair she'd ever met when it came to her association with witchcraft. They accused her of every wrongdoing when it came to mishaps and faulty supplies, on the ship or off, mainly because they didn't want to bear such blame on their own shoulders.
She met them in the darkened hallway leading out from the stairs down to the hull and did her best to avoid them as she continued on toward the main deck, and they mimicked her, but with over-exaggerated caution. She was about to reprimand them for their stupidity until she noticed Barbossa's pet monkey sitting oddly upon the deck.
Jack's fur was matted and marred, and he looked as though he had been in some kind of vicious fight. He was incredibly thin, and in some areas, excessive amounts of his skeleton could be seen. It was a sight gruesome enough to make Geneva pause just at the edge of the sheltered darkness of the corridor, and Pintel and Ragetti did the same.
"What in God's name happened to that thing?" muttered Pintel, astounded by the monkey's ugly appearance.
"It looks half dead," Ragetti whimpered, and Jack looked up at them from the piece of food he was chewing at and squealed at them defensively. The men jumped, and Geneva looked down her nose at it in cautious meditation.
"Go touch it," Ragetti suggested, nominating nobody in particular. Pintel scoffed.
"Why would I touch that?" he snapped, and then he looked at Geneva.
"You touch it!" he said, pointing a finger at her. Geneva looked back at him with disgust.
"I'd sooner shoot it," she asserted, making her refusal firm. A couple of men came up behind them in the hallway, hearing the conversation.
"You're the spell woman!" Pintel shot back. "It won't hurt you if you touch it!"
"That thing bites everyone, you idiot," Geneva hissed at him, and Ragetti tried to shove her towards the half-dead primate, but she was stable on her feet and shoved him out onto the deck in retaliation.
Then, he turned to bones, and he screamed.
Everyone in the hall took a startled step backward. Ragetti continued to wave his arms about, looking at himself frantically. The men in the hall were in disbelief.
Pintel turned and snarled at Geneva. "You did that!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You cursed him!"
"What are you talking about?!" she exclaimed, dumbfounded at the notion that it was she who turned Ragetti into a clamoring set of bones. "I did nothing to him!"
"You touched him!" Pintel went on, howling now. More men were coming up the stairs from the hall to see what all the ruckus was about. There were murmurs going through the crowded corridor as the crew tried to figure out what was happening.
"She cursed him, I tell you!" Pintel went on, gesturing out towards Ragetti with his right arm, and as the moonlight hit his forearm, his skin dissolved down to the bone, and Pintel shrieked. He recoiled from Geneva and onto the deck, his whole body decaying into a skeletal form, causing shocked gasps from the onlookers in the hallway. Voices got louder, and the panic was beginning to rise. Geneva tore her eyes from the gut-wrenching scene and pushed her way frantically through the crew as they struggled to see what was happening, heading straight for Barbossa's cabin.
"Captain Barbossa!" she yelled, bursting through the door without knocking. The captain grunted and sat up in his chair, startled out of his slumber.
"The men!" she spoke sharply in nervous frustration.
"What about the men?" Barbossa asked, slightly annoyed that he'd been awoken with such a start.
Geneva sighed impatiently, glancing quickly at the clamor of yells behind her, teeth clenched, before turning swiftly back to Hector.
"The men are turning to bones," she hissed softly, eyes wild with aggressive fear. "Living bones!"
Barbossa stared at her in shock for a moment, and then stood up from his chair, shaking the grogginess from his head and hastily making his way towards the door where she stood. He brushed past her, and she followed him back out to the deck, where even more of the crew had transformed into living skeletons, wracked with rags and barely recognizable.
Barbossa could only stare in disbelief at the horde of them as they stumbled about the deck in a clumsy panic, witnesses to the terror begat all around them. They wailed at the abhorrent sight of themselves, their skin completely gone and no tissue of any value left except for measly strands of wet, decomposing hair, completely naked of blood and flesh down to the raw bone.
Ragetti cried out, "It was the witch! She touched me!" And a mob of accusations followed suit, tearing at the sea lioness, until Barbossa held up his hands to silence the crew, and stepped into the moonlight for himself.
His flesh corroded away, blood and all, and what remained was nothing but rags of his former self, his coat sitting upon empty shoulders, tattered and worn, his scraggly beard thin and pale with death. His eyes were sunken in and beady, dry and unable to blink, his teeth completely and hideously bared.
"The witch doesn't turn to bones!" hissed a man, and Barbossa looked over at Geneva, who still stood in the shadows. She stepped into the moonlight, and nothing happened.
"If we're all turning to bones and she's not," the barbarous first mate growled. "Then she's laid the curse on us!" Disgruntled murmurs circulated through the crew, and Geneva did her best to ignore them, turning to Barbossa, or what was left of him.
"Captain," she spoke, her voice low, but certain. "The curse. The Aztec gold." Barbossa didn't say anything, and the crew silenced themselves. They all looked at her, waiting for her.
"I understand the curse now," she went on with careful intensity. "Thieves of the Sun shall be damned by the Moon—meaning, whosoever takes even a piece of the gold from the chest shall be damned to death without dying, their true nature revealed under the cold light of the moon."—she looked back at Barbossa—"The curse is real. This is it."
"Then why isn't she a sack of bones too?" sputtered Pintel exasperatedly. Before Geneva could respond, Barbossa did so for her.
"She read the chest," Hector said. "And she didn't touch the gold."
"Well if she knew, why didn't she tell us, then?!" scowled a man named Koehler.
"Oh, that she did," Barbossa continued, turning back towards Geneva. "Just now."
Geneva stared at Barbossa. He was leaving her to her own explanation. He wasn't going to defend her. Now she had to figure out how to get out of this. She could only glare, but she knew what she was doing, and she knew where her next move would get her. After all, the only reason she was here was to aim higher than Barbossa, and that position had just opened up. The only thing she'd have to overcome with these men was their evident gender premonitions.
So, Geneva smiled with her eyes.
"I told you of the curse at Isla de Muerta," she recounted, staring right into Barbossa. "It was quite evident that there was a curse. But knowing this, you still ordered them to take the gold. Well, let me tell you something about gods and their curses. Heathen gods love to test the desires of men. And this is their reward: witnessing their curse in its full capacity."
She could feel her connection with Hector was dwindling. It was very weak, and it was because of the curse. He was practically dead, only a walking corpse that couldn't taste death's relief. He was thinking almost entirely for himself now.
"I bet she's a bloomin' goddess herself," muttered a crew member, and murmurs circulated. Angered eyes beat on her, but she held herself firmly. Barbossa stared back at her intently.
"Well then, lass," he remarked, undoubtedly speaking for the crew. "How does one lift the curse?"
She was cornered on a very narrow ledge now. She had to be careful with what she said next. She really didn't know, but if she came out and said she didn't know, they'd maroon her. She had to find a way past this, and fast.
"If I knew, I'd tell you," she said, carefully calculating her words. "But I know how to find out if there is a way: return to Isla de Muerta."
Barbossa didn't say anything for a moment, clearly weighing his options. Everyone waited for his response. Geneva knew he couldn't afford to get rid of her. She was the only chance they had in breaking the curse.
Barbossa finally turned to his navigator and told him to set the charts for the island once again. He turned to Geneva and gestured toward his cabin. She went back first, and he followed, leaving the crew to ready the ship.
He closed the cabin doors behind them. Barbossa's cabin was incredibly extravagant. He had a large table, covered with all kinds of foods, including an entire platter of apples.
"You understand why you're still here, lass," Barbossa said lowly, grabbing an apple and studying it. He didn't bite it.
"I'm the only one who can read the chest," she replied. She knew that much. She could barely read him anymore, but she knew that much out of logic. She'd seen too many men to miss that kind of thought.
"You've got more power than just reading old dialects," Barbossa said, turning toward her, the apple still in his hand. "I may be a mortal, but I'm not a fool."
He held up the apple and bit out of it, the juice running down his face. Then, without warning, he spat it out and threw the apple across the room.
"I can't taste that," he said, his tone of voice changing, eyes locked on her. "I've noticed it from the moment we took that gold."
He moved toward her, and she didn't cower. She was waiting to see what he would say.
"I can't feel," he went on, brushing her face, and she didn't move. She couldn't control him, but her eyes still saw everything.
"I've a hunger," he continued. "But no matter how much I eat, I feel like I'm dying. The wine does not quench my thirst, and the bread does not satisfy my hunger."
Geneva said nothing, and he continued.
"I wouldn't feel your kisses if you had any to give," he said, brushing her lips with his blackened thumb.
"If you can break the curse, I'll let you live until we're relieved," he said. "And then, you'll satisfy my hunger. You'll stay on the Pearl until the curse is broken; I won't let you be thrown off. But if you're wrong, I'll see to it that you're killed."
There was no way to back out of his deal. Barbossa was desperate, but not stupid. He knew she was a higher being, and that was enough temptation in itself. But she couldn't say no to him, for he'd find a way to make her suffer. She was trapped either way she chose. But if she wanted to live to one day surpass him, she had to choose the option that would buy her time, even if it might make her his slave. She had no choice but to oblige. But she knew what she was doing. She was always prepared to lose some in order to gain more, for it always came full circle for her.