Chapter 9, everybody! Happy October, hopefully I'll be posting on my big computer next chapter.

So we know what Will called Barbossa in the movie—the particular wording here comes from the workaround used in Bill Cosby's skit "Childbirth." As for whether or not Willow can swim…I don't know if that's canon or not since technically none of the characters swim (if your ship sinks it's an insta-death) but it makes sense for her specifically to not know this. Also the much larger age gap between Willow and Maxwell means the island scene skips the flirting.

In other news despite Wilba being intended to be human in this I cannot for the life of me get rid of the concept that it's basically Miss Piggy flirting with the male lead and thus it makes me giggle every time. XD The miniscule profits line is a reference to Chicken Run, by the way.

Don't Starve © 2013 Klei Entertainment

Pirates of the Caribbean © 2003 Disney

So real talk, if he ever managed to get out of this particular mess, when he was done introducing his foot to the kid's rear he was going over proper bargaining.

Said kid, meanwhile, had figured out Charlie's workaround, was stopped by several of her crew as he rushed her and accused her of being a liar and her parents of never being married.

"Oh come now, don't be that way," Charlie preened at him. "You were the one who set the terms—it's not my fault you didn't also include when or where I was supposed to set her free." Circle around the girl. "But it does seem a shame to lose something so nice...so I'll be having the dress back before you go."

Willow was steaming as she stripped down to her slip and threw the dress at Charlie, ignoring the wolf whistles some of the crew were offering. "It goes with your black heart."

"So I've been told," she said, admiring the dress before handing it off. "Go hang this up for me, will you?" Gesture for the punishment to proceed, several pirates threatening the girl with swords and forcing her onto the plank as Charlie circled back around to Maxwell.

"I really thought we were past all this," Maxwell tried.

"We're not," Charlie said. "But before we reinstate you as governor of that island."

He hated the fact that for a hot second he thought she was after something else when she stepped up to him—also hated the indignant bark that escaped when she stepped back with the Codex.

"Sorry, Maxie, but I can't have you taking off with the ship while I'm busy undoing this particular curse," she said. "You understand."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Hmm, might give you something to reflect on while you're on that island."

"Charlie—honey—no look chunk the kid overboard instead, it's me you want anyway. Those two are in love or whatever, do you really want to split up a budding romance?"

"Aww," Charlie noised, looking at Wilson—started slapping Maxwell with the Codex, eliciting several sharp barks from him. "Why-do-you-ruin-every-thing-you-touch!?"

"Hey! OW! I'm offering to fix it for once!"

"NO—I know better than to trust you, get on that plank."

Maxwell glanced back at the girl on the edge of the plank, still hesitating. "You know last time you gave me a pistol."

"That's true—someone toss out Max's pistol."

The monkey did so—threw it overboard, joy.

"You know there's two of us," he decided to point out.

"I'm glad you can count," she said. "You can play the gentleman and shoot the lady. I'm sure you'll machine up another escape, but it won't be in the next month."

Oi vey. Start backing up onto the plank at the swords menacing them—

"You're holding up the line," Maxwell muttered when he was back-to-back with the girl.

"I can't swim," she whimpered, eyes screwed shut.

"Seriously?"

"Too long!" one pirate barked, stomping on the plank and sending them both stumbling—managed to get angled where it didn't hurt too badly on impact, swam down and grabbed his pistol before affirming that yes, said girl couldn't swim.

"I got a job for you," he growled when he hauled her to the surface. "Learn how to swim, real quick."

She resisted hitting him by sheer force of will, he was sure, reminding herself that self-preservation was key here—made it to shore, dropping her as soon as they had something resembling solid land beneath them, stomped around to glare at Charlie sailing away with his ship and his Codex.

"That's the second time I've had to watch her sail away with my ship," he spat. And him without his usual means of getting out of said messes.

Great.


"But we have to rescue Wilson!"

Maxwell didn't give any indication that he heard, kept walking before she ran up and smacked him in the back. "Oi!"

"We can't leave Wilson like that!" Willow insisted.

"I'm curious as to how you propose we fix that then," he growled at her. "Charlie's gone and sailed off with my ship AGAIN—oi I'da rather she shot me out of a cannon or shot me with a cannon—"

"But we can get out of this."

"Do you not understand the concept of marooning?"

"You escaped this island before!"

"And to what point and purpose?" Maxwell demanded. "Charlie took the Codex, and unless you've got a lot of canvas and a rudder hidden in that blouse—and if you do I'll be mighty impressed—your beau's going to be dead long before we can reach him."

Willow gaped a little as he stalked off to rap on several coconut trees—ran after him when she recovered. "But you're Maxwell Carter!" she protested. "You sacked Nassau Fort without firing a single shot, you've sunk ships of the line that outgunned you ten to one, there isn't a prison that can hold you, you've cheated death so many times that the Grim Reaper gave up—" Ran in front of him, planting herself firmly and stopping him. "Are you the pirate I've read about or not?"

Maxwell hesitated for a painfully long time before finally answering her. "Last time…I was here a grand total of three days, all right?"

She blinked—scrambled to follow him as he paced away.

"So this island is used as a cache for rumrunners," he explained, hopping up and down on a spot before yanking a hidden cellar door up. "I happen to find said rum, was working on processing everything when they come sailing in, I do some dealing and get myself off the island. Granted, it looks like they haven't been here in a long while," he muttered, rooting around in the cellar before holding up a bottle of dusty rum. "Probably have your bloody friend Norrington to thank for that."

"So that's it?" she demanded as he climbed back out, loaded down with bottles. "That's the grand secret? You spent three days lying on a beach drinking rum?"

"Well…yeah," Maxwell admitted. "What do you want me to say? I had just had a very messy divorce where my wife left me stranded here while I had to watch her sail away with my ship," he said, gesturing. "And seeing as how she did it again, and this time took the Codex with her too…I have every intent of drowning my sorrows in booze, feel free to join me."

Willow accepted the bottle of rum he shoved at her without fully registering it, trying to control her breathing even as her vision fogged up—stupid stupid stupid—she was going to burn something and if it happened to be Maxwell then so be it—smack him with a rum bottle and—

Rum was flammable.


Max made good on his threat to drink himself in a stupor, and therefore didn't realize something had gone wrong until he woke to a smokey beach.

He sat up, turned to start hunting for the source—right in time to see Willow throw another barrel of rum onto an already towering bonfire.

"NO!" he yelped, scrambling up—ducking when the barrel exploded—ran over to her. "What are you doing!? You burned the food! The shade! The rum!"

"Yes, the rum is gone," Willow confirmed, grabbing several palm leaves and tossing them onto the fire as well.

"Why is the rum gone!?"

"Firstly because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable of men into complete scoundrels—"

"Oi you were drinking it too last night."

"And secondly...that signal is over a thousand feet high, you honestly think someone wouldn't come over and investigate?"

"What, are you banking on a search party!?" he demanded. "I'd buy that if you were the governor's daughter or something, but honestly you're just some random schmoe who burned all of our supplies!"

"You hush," she said, walking around the bonfire. "By evening that won't be a problem anymore."

Yeah right—yanked his gun out, had to wrestle with whether or not he really wanted to waste his one bullet dangit by this point there was the thematic consideration but still she had just doomed them to a much nastier version of the long slow death—swore floridly before stuffing the gun back in his belt and stalking away down the beach.

"'Must have been terrible for you Max,'" he snarled, recalling their conversation last night—her begging for pirate stories while pushing more bottles at him was probably her lathering him up so he wouldn't notice her pyromania until it was too late. "'Must have been terrible' well it BLOODY IS NOW!" he roared back down the beach. Stalked up a sand dune—

Had to take a double-take at the sight of white sails not too far from them, longboats already paddling their way.

Look back at the fire, at the smoke signal—back at the longboats—sagged, grimacing. "There'll be no living with her after this."


Willow had been pleasantly surprised that their rescue ship had been a navy vessel, had that tip firmly into shocked surprise when she got on the ship to be tackled by a familiar face squealing "WILLOW!"

"Wha—Wilba!? What are you doing here?" Willow demanded. "How!?"

"By being very stubborn and very loyal," Norrington said, swaggering down the aft steps to them. "Two traits I admire in a woman."

"Oh hush you're such a tease," Wilba said, blushing as she waved him off. "But back to you—we've been looking for you for ages I knew the smoke signal was you what happened were the pirates terrible?"

"And then there's you," Norrington said, drawing his sword and pointing it at Maxwell—not that he was really doing anything surrounded by burly navy men, but still. "I have a contingent back at Port Royal rebuilding the gallows just for you."

"Oh don't put yourself out on my behalf," Maxwell said, apparently still thinking he could try charming his way out.

"It's no trouble. What fate fell the Interceptor?"

Oh right. "You had that ship insured, right?" Willow asked, grimacing a little.

"That reminds me, where's Wilson?" Wilba asked, looking at the longboat like Wilson was just taking his sweet time in getting on. "He left to go hunting for you—"

"With a pirate, while stealing a navy ship, we've been over this," Norrington told her.

"It's true love!"

Oh boy. "Yeah so things kinda went bad—Charlie's got him, I think she's taking him to the Lunar Island to kill him."

"Actually that's probably a definite," Maxwell told her.

Wilba gasped, wide-eyed. "The Lunar Island is real?"

"Yeah, I was there. Appalling lack of green cheese, tons of treasure." And since Charlie was definitely going there and taking Wilson with her—"And we can go there and save Wilson!"

"Yes!"

"No," Norrington said flatly. Looked at Governor Warbucks for appeal at the same time Wilba did.

"Well...the boy's fate is regrettable," Warbucks said. "But then again so was his decision to engage in piracy."

"To look for me—to rescue me!" Willow protested, Wilba gesturing at her.

"Well that's the price of chivalry nowadays," Maxwell told her. "One of you was taking me to a cell, right? My head's kinda baking here did one of you grab my hat?"

Wilba rounded on Norrington, stomping a foot. "I practically had to twist your arm to get you to go after Willow, am I going to have to twist the other one for Wilson?"

"Miss Wilba, you already asked for Miss Willow's rescue as a wedding present," Norrington said.

"You what?" Willow asked blankly.

"Yes but consider the pomp a double wedding will bring," Wilba argued.

Oh good grief—look at Maxwell, figuring he might be motivated to help—he arched an eyebrow at her until she mouthed the ship. He had been pretty adamant about getting it back...

He raised the other eyebrow, managed to sidestep the guys holding him to step up next to Norrington.

"Now hold it pal, let's weigh the pros and cons here," Maxwell told him. "Consider—the Shadowchaser is the last real pirate threat in the Caribbean. Consider the feather in your cap, the prestige that gives you and your gal here, the pension size, the school your kids end up going to. You gotta be thinking long-term here, and long-term...sinking the unsinkable pirate ship. Ol' Georgie himself would be wanting you two in his court, savvy? How can you pass that up?"

"By remembering that I serve others, Mr. Carter," Norrington said stiffly.

"Pal, you're about to be married—the other you're serving is your wife and you do not want her unhappy. Look unhappy," he told Wilba.

"We can't be that far from the Lunar Island," Willow said from behind a fuming Wilba. "It wouldn't take that long to track them down!"

"And Wilson is still an Englishman and worthy of the Navy's protection!" Wilba burst. "He didn't actively engage in piracy, he was enabling a rescue mission!"

"For what it's worth he's a terrible pirate," Maxwell conceded.

Norrington had his eyes closed long enough that Willow was willing to bet he was trying to stave off a headache, finally glared at Maxwell. "Mr. Carter, you will accompany these men to my navigator, to whom you will give the bearings of the Lunar Island. You will then spend the remainder of your time in the brig, where you will contemplate every possible meaning of the phrase silent as the grave. Do we have an understanding?"

"Eh," Maxwell noised, shrugging.

"We're going to get Wilson?" Willow asked, hope squeezing her chest.

"If I must," Norrington sighed—winced at Wilba and Willow grabbing each other and cheering and bouncing, glowered when Maxwell clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Better get used to it pal, that's married life," Maxwell said, grinning.


Legitimately, even with knowing that he was probably being sailed to his doom, Wilson really could not think of how this all could have gone worse.

Let's recap, shall we? Willow was kidnapped after being threatened by a pirate. Wilson teamed up with said pirate to rescue her, thus ensuring that he'd never be able to set foot in Port Royal again. Willow was now stranded on an island with said pirate with no hope of rescue, and Wilson was being sailed away to probably have his neck sliced open because a band of pirates believed themselves cursed. Did he miss anything?

"Say pal, you don't look so good."

Ah, right—captain of said pirate band had apparently been married to the first pirate mentioned.

"Seriously?" burst out of him before he could think the question through. "Married to Maxwell, of all people?"

"Man's got a point," Winona said from the jail cell across from Wilson's, where the rest of the crew were trapped.

"Oh hush, Wi, you never approved anyway," Captain Charlie said, waving her off.

"For good reason! You want me to tell you what he did to my last boat!?"

"No but I'm sure I'll be finding out."

"So it isn't that he pushes your buttons, you're just like this," Wilson observed.

"You start getting salty after a while on the sea," Charlie snarked at him. "But I get the feeling that that wasn't what was bothering you."

"And you're concerned why?"

"Maybe I'm weighing whether or not I cut your hand or your throat when we get there."

"I'm not sure either is an improvement," he muttered, despite weighing his options. But if he could get into her good graces enough...he had to do something to get back to Willow, and if being interesting enough would do it...except the concept of even playing pirate still turned his stomach, despite what Maxwell intimated.

Which still left him with that question.

"So…tell me," Wilson said, eyeing her. "And be honest: was my father a pirate or not?"

Charlie tipped her head, considering him through the bars. "Oh, honey…the thing you need to know about Max is that he's fond of bending the truth to get what he wants."

Wilson blinked, confused—she took that as a sign to continue.

"Max told me the story while we were busy running you lot down," she said, pulling that logbook out and running a finger along its edge. "See, after so long sailing the seas it'd be easier to say who didn't curse him, and he's had the habit, in past years, of fobbing off a curse he didn't like onto someone else. After this particular one I had dumped him on that island we left with the idea that he'd stew there a while—this one didn't really affect him like it did everyone else, but it renders shadow magic moot so he couldn't use his usual tricks to get away."

"I'm sorry, magic?" Wilson repeated.

"Do keep in mind you're on a ship populated by pirates that turn into crystal-riddled skeletons in the moonlight," Charlie said. "May I continue?"

Wilson waved her on, slouching back against the hull of the ship.

"So I figure he's stuck for a good long while—but what I didn't realize was that the rumrunners had decided that that was a good island to store a cache on. Three days in, they find Max on the beach, a rum-sodden mess, if I had to guess—he billed it as him lounging on the beach drinking pina coladas, but I doubt it.

"Anywho," she continued. "There's this merchant fella working with the rumrunners, by the name of Winston Higgsbury. Yes he said you might perk up at that," she said, nodding at the way he had straightened up. "So the elder Higgsbury had been doing all the proper shipping and merchant stuff, very straight-laced, very tired of miniscule profits, which is how he falls in with the rumrunners. After all, there's ports that don't have port tax, plenty of places to make money off the books.

"And this is how he meets Max, busy drinking through their profits—well Max wheedles them all, guarantees they'll empty their coffers if they just get him to Tortuga, offers the elder Higgsbury a fancy coin and a handshake to seal the deal. This fancy coin, matter of fact," she said, holding up the medallion. "Transfers the blood debt and other stipulations to him along with the coin during that handshake, and he's home free and back to causing trouble."

"So my father's death is Maxwell's fault," Wilson said.

"Actually your father's death was due to poor business deals and angry pirates," she said. "You don't swim with sharks without that sort of thing happening. But before he dies he sends this medallion to you. I'm going to guess that on your way over here, after getting fished out of the water, that Willow girl took this from you. Took it, instead of accepting it. There's a big distinction there."

"How?"

"Because in accepting it when your father mailed this to you, the blood debt transferred to you. When Willow took it, she only took the coin—you didn't give it to her, so you didn't transfer the blood debt to go with it." Smile at him. "But good news, we'll be getting that squared away shortly." Look when one of her crew addressed her, alerting him to the fact that the ship felt relatively stationary. "Right now, in fact. Come on," she said, grinning at him as she opened the door. "Once this is done and over with we can show you some real magic."