Categories > Movies > Pirates of the Caribbean > Legarou
DISCLAIMER: Disney owns the characters and whatnot, not I.
PART 2:
"The sea hates a coward!" -Eugene O'Neill
/ /There was one thing about being on a ship after nightfall that even the roughest, toughest, most stalwart pirate could enjoy: the unobstructed view of the starlit night. Standing at the helm, Jack pondered the vicissitudes of life. Well, that and the how in hell he was going to keep out of crossing too close to Norrington's search pattern. Anamaria had brought up a very good point during dinner-they could not swing by Port Royal. Which meant they had to take the long way 'round and pass Tortuga.
Jack was only slightly miffed at missing the chance to see Will and Elizabeth go giddy over each other. They deserved it after all.
Absently, Jack cracked his knuckles and made another minor change in course. Behind him, Anamaria stood and watched. She had thought that he didn't know of her presence, so when he spoke to her, the lady pirate jumped.
"Anything in particular that you'd like to bring to my attention, or were you just havin' a stare?"
Anamaria held a hand above her heart to calm the racing down, but it didn't work. She took a deep, but quiet, breath and cleared her throat. "Just havin' a stare," she ventured a bit closer to him and looked up at the clear night sky. "Calm out tonight," she said.
"Aye. Tis either a sign of good things to come, or bad," Jack mused.
Anamaria glanced sideways at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "So... When am I goin' to get me promised boat? You sunk the one you stole from me and the one ye promised me got blown up."
"Borrowed," he corrected her.
Her fist clenched, and she felt the natural urge to slap him. "Makes no difference, Jack Sparrow. You owe me a boat."
"Captain," he corrected her again.
Anamaria's cheek twitched as she tried to hold back a grin. He never did answer her.
*
Dawn came with a terrible vengeance, the sky was painted a vicious blood red, and that was more than enough cause to make Gibbs worried. Red skies in the morning were known notoriously for the bad luck they brought upon sailors. When he mentioned this to Jack, all he received in response was:
"Then it's a good thing that we're pirates, not sailors, aye?"
Gibbs did not like that.
Besides the burning red dawn, half the crew was showing symptoms of scurvy, and they had to pull into the nearest port to nick some fruit to calm it down. Gibbs saw these signs as sure reasons why they should not go after the sword, but Jack waved it off with a glib "this-happens-all-the-time-you-should-know-/Mister/-Gibbs" and an orange thrown at his head.
He peeled the orange and absently stared at the captain through the corner of his eye. Jack was humming his song again.
*
The sea was rebelling. That was the only way Gibbs could describe it. Great waves crashed on deck and soaked the entire crew. The one thing that told the old pirate that this was a squall more severe than any he'd been in was a single order that came from Jack's very own mouth.
"Drop canvas!" he'd shouted against the thundering roar of the wind.
In all of the time that he'd known him, Gibbs had never heard those two words utter from Jack's tongue. It was foreign. It was an omen.
Somehow, traveling to Petite Terre didn't seem like such a welcome idea any longer. If the crew had had this much bad luck before reaching the island, what would happen after they nicked from the weapons cache? Gibbs didn't want to think about it, but he did nonetheless.
What if the sword had a curse upon it-like those 882 pieces of Aztec gold?
What if the French had more than just guards stationed at the cache?
What if there was /nothing /in the weapons cache?
What if the Pearl suddenly capsized, and everyone drowned?
Gibbs shook his head, grumbled something about bad water, and yanked hard on a rope line. He listened absently as seawater pelted the thick canvas sail that now billowed out in the wind and wondered why he'd ever agreed to go along with this unhinged "quest."
Of course.
He had wanted a good sword.
"I'm a ruddy fool," Gibbs muttered to himself and tightened the ropes once more. The wind ate his words before he could even hear them.
*
Things were beginning to feel just perfect. Governor Swann was in awe of Will and his ability to care for Elizabeth in the monetary and literal senses, and was finally accepting his status as blacksmith and pirate; if the boy took care of his little girl, that was enough for him.
Business was prospering; Port Royal was slowly coming back together... Elizabeth was expecting... Will had never been happier.
"The sun is about to set, Will. Would you like to sit on the porch with me?"
He kissed his wife on the cheek and smiled warmly. "You know perfectly well that I would love to sit on the porch with you to watch the sunset, Elizabeth."
Will held her in his arms and they watched the sun turn the sky from cerulean blue to burnt orange and vibrant red to violet to velvet black. The stars were shining brightly, and the moon was close and luminous and everything was just... perfect. And inevitably, peace was shattered.
"Ahoy!"
/ /Will started, waking Elizabeth and trying in vain to calm the hammering of his heart. The call had been sudden and quite unexpected, and he knew the voice from somewhere...
"Turner!/ Boy, ye hear me?!"/
/Will frowned, and Elizabeth looked up at him from her position against his chest. /That's... "Mr. Gibbs?!"
The couple heard a boat slide up onto the beach, and in the white light cast by the moon, they could see the condition that the old pirate was in. Carefully, Will disengaged himself from Elizabeth and went to help Gibbs walk closer to the light.
"What...what happened?" Elizabeth asked.
Gibbs looked terrible. He was malnourished, dehydrated, sleep deprived, and sporting a rather nasty set of scratch marks on his shoulder. His shirt was torn, and the skin that had been injured was festering. Elizabeth took this all in and gasped.
"Mr. Gibbs!!"
"It's terrible... Just bloody awful. Jack..."
"Jack what?" Will interjected. He immediately cursed himself. "Why don't you come inside, Mr. Gibbs. We'll have our maid ready a meal and-"
"No time!" Gibbs snapped, suddenly grabbing Will's shirt and shaking him. "Summat terrible has happened! Legarou is loose, and tis all me own fault!"
"Le...garou?" Elizabeth repeated, frowning delicately.
"Aye... And I came 'ere because I... I..." Gibbs frowned. "Best I should begin from the beginning..."
Elizabeth made him take a meal and clean up a bit before starting. She ignored all of his protests and insisted, and as soon as the last cup of water was downed, Gibbs began to weave his tale.
"It all started when Jack got it in 'is head to go after this cache of weapons that the French left behind after the war..."
¤
A full moon hung high overhead like a heavy pearl in its diamond-studded black velvet purse. Nighttime, as Jack said, was the best time to pilfer and or filch, maraud and plunder. "Most gits are left unawares in the dark," he'd wisely stated.
Just as Jack had expected, several French soldiers (that made house out of a shack) guarded the cave. They were currently playing a tropical version of the shell game (consisting of three coconut shell halves and a rock), and thus distracted. So they didn't expect a soggy pirate to walk right among them.
"Pardon me, my good gentlemen, but do you know how to get to the Grenadines from here?"
He received three blank, blinking French stares in return.
"Oh, terribly sorry. Don't speak the King's English, do you? Then, I'll just be on my own way. Bonjour." Jack tipped his hat and started walking in the direction of the cave. Three Frenchies immediately blocked his path and began rattling off something about authorization and...something else that Jack didn't quite catch. He let them go on, making apologetic faces here and there and stammering a few things that basically summed up his misunderstanding and that he had no idea what they were saying. Which was an outright lie.
As he distracted the guards, Gibbs, Anamaria, and two other pirates crept into the cave and followed the well-worn path into a main center chamber. Bayonets lined one wall, rifles the next, and an assortment of rapiers and sabers were lying in a heap in a separate alcove. Two swords were imbedded into the wall above the pile, and Gibbs immediately made his way toward them. The first was the one Jack was looking for-a silver material with gold filigree made up the impressive-looking cutlass. The other one was just steel, slightly tarnished, and bearing an ornate handle that had wolves etched into the metallic surface.
His dreamed weapon.
Eager to feel the weight of the saber in his hands, Gibbs pulled free the cutlass and set it to the side before working on removing his find. It came free with more than a little resistance, but the end result was what he'd been waiting for. It felt glorious to hold a weapon in his hand and be able to call it his own.
His rapture was short-lived.
Gibbs had turned his back to the alcove, and he didn't notice the slight vibration coming from behind it. Nor did he see the cracks start along the overhang. The noise, however, caused him to take notice-as did the French soldiers who were yelling at Jack outside. All Gibbs could do was turn and stare in awe as the alcove cracked wide open.
It looked as though the pits of Hell had erupted onto the earth's surface. Brimstone smoke singed his hair and burned his lungs-he vaguely heard Anamaria and the two other pirates' screams of terror over the din that was before him. No, it didn't just look like he'd imagined Hell... It was Hell. Though it stung his eyes, Gibbs could see deep into the burning shadows and make out several writhing figures shrieking in the flames. He didn't have much time to ponder the oddity and horror of the situation, however, for no sooner had the chasm opened before him a creature fell forward onto the hard-packed earth of the center chamber. Its arms and legs were bound together in chain that was glowing white-hot. From his position against the wall lined with rifles, Gibbs could smell the pungent odor of burnt flesh and hair mixed in with the stench of sulfuric brimstone.
The creature that 'Hell itself spat out' was enormous but not lacking in humanoid features. It was crouched (wailing in agony) upon the floor with five-fingered (and clawed) hands tugging at the merciless chains that cooked its hide, its feet left deep gouges in the ground as it tried to kick its way to freedom. Had it not been for the thick, matted brown fur all over it and the pronounced muzzle and pointed ears upon its face and head, Gibbs would have thought it to be a human.
It clearly wasn't.
The fiery pit closed abruptly, with one warning (given in a voice so deep and distorted that Gibbs could barely make out the language's root, much less the words) in Latin. The creature from Beyond was left in the living world, and its chains were blackening as the cool cave air did its natural work. Anger bled off it in waves.
Anamaria and the others had wisely bolted the hell out of there, but Gibbs couldn't move. His feet had up and rooted themselves among the ball and powder-shot rifles, and fear kept him there.
What in blue blazes is that thing??
The adamant cutlass was light in his left hand, but the saber... It felt so cumbersome and heavy. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?
"Furunculus//!" it said around a mouthful of nasty looking teeth. Gibbs felt his sweat glands pick up production, and the saber gained six pounds.
A link in the chain wrapped about it snapped in half, and Gibbs jolted. "Latronis//!" it yelled-louder the second time.
From the entrance of the cave, one of the three French guards cried out. "Legarou!"
Gibbs made the mistake of looking back at the speaker, and at that precise moment the chains completely snapped apart. The last thing he clearly remembered was a sharp pain in his shoulder and the blurred edges of the tropical flora as he sprinted to shore.
Jack watched almost helplessly as the two boats that his mission's miniature crew had taken to shore were now heading toward the Pearl at top speed. Well, Anamaria's was. Gibbs was listing to the west. Beside him, three Frenchmen were going out of their trees with panic as this creature... This 'Legarou,' shifted into a standing position inside the weapons cache. And the first thing that the Great Captain Jack Sparrow could think of to say, you ask?
"Well..." he raised one eyebrow and idly twisted his mustache. "That's interesting."
He lifted the cutlass that Mr. Gibbs had dropped and swung it into a ready position.
¤
"At least, I think that's what he would have said. I was a bit far to hear him, but I did see the Captain ready a weapon," Gibbs finished.
Elizabeth felt a twitch developing in her eyebrow as a result of keeping her frown mechanism in restraint. "You mean to say that... You left him there on a Hell-borne creature infested island with naught but a sword to protect him?!"
Mr. Gibbs shivered. "'Twas not of me own intentions, missy. I was running on instinct, I was. Tell me what ye'd do if some creature came out of the pit of Hell and called ye a...a...a...whatever it was and then clawed yer shoulder. And Jack had a gun besides."
Will interrupted the both of them. "So... You're saying that you essentially freed a...demon...from Hell, and it's looking to hunt you down?"
"Aye."
"And you came here?"
"Aye."
Will felt the insane urge to slap the man well up in his middle, and he had to restrain his own hand. "Which means it will still be hunting you down."
"'Tis a fair inference," Gibbs shrugged.
"And you came here," Will repeated.
Gibbs had the foresight to feel foolish.
Review, please!
DISCLAIMER: Disney owns the characters and whatnot, not I DISCLAIMER: Disney owns the characters and whatnot, not I.
PART 2:
"The sea hates a coward!" -Eugene O'Neill
/ /There was one thing about being on a ship after nightfall that even the roughest, toughest, most stalwart pirate could enjoy: the unobstructed view of the starlit night. Standing at the helm, Jack pondered the vicissitudes of life. Well, that and the how in hell he was going to keep out of crossing too close to Norrington's search pattern. Anamaria had brought up a very good point during dinner-they could not swing by Port Royal. Which meant they had to take the long way 'round and pass Tortuga.
Jack was only slightly miffed at missing the chance to see Will and Elizabeth go giddy over each other. They deserved it after all.
Absently, Jack cracked his knuckles and made another minor change in course. Behind him, Anamaria stood and watched. She had thought that he didn't know of her presence, so when he spoke to her, the lady pirate jumped.
"Anything in particular that you'd like to bring to my attention, or were you just havin' a stare?"
Anamaria held a hand above her heart to calm the racing down, but it didn't work. She took a deep, but quiet, breath and cleared her throat. "Just havin' a stare," she ventured a bit closer to him and looked up at the clear night sky. "Calm out tonight," she said.
"Aye. Tis either a sign of good things to come, or bad," Jack mused.
Anamaria glanced sideways at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "So... When am I goin' to get me promised boat? You sunk the one you stole from me and the one ye promised me got blown up."
"Borrowed," he corrected her.
Her fist clenched, and she felt the natural urge to slap him. "Makes no difference, Jack Sparrow. You owe me a boat."
"Captain," he corrected her again.
Anamaria's cheek twitched as she tried to hold back a grin. He never did answer her.
*
Dawn came with a terrible vengeance, the sky was painted a vicious blood red, and that was more than enough cause to make Gibbs worried. Red skies in the morning were known notoriously for the bad luck they brought upon sailors. When he mentioned this to Jack, all he received in response was:
"Then it's a good thing that we're pirates, not sailors, aye?"
Gibbs did not like that.
Besides the burning red dawn, half the crew was showing symptoms of scurvy, and they had to pull into the nearest port to nick some fruit to calm it down. Gibbs saw these signs as sure reasons why they should not go after the sword, but Jack waved it off with a glib "this-happens-all-the-time-you-should-know-/Mister/-Gibbs" and an orange thrown at his head.
He peeled the orange and absently stared at the captain through the corner of his eye. Jack was humming his song again.
*
The sea was rebelling. That was the only way Gibbs could describe it. Great waves crashed on deck and soaked the entire crew. The one thing that told the old pirate that this was a squall more severe than any he'd been in was a single order that came from Jack's very own mouth.
"Drop canvas!" he'd shouted against the thundering roar of the wind.
In all of the time that he'd known him, Gibbs had never heard those two words utter from Jack's tongue. It was foreign. It was an omen.
Somehow, traveling to Petite Terre didn't seem like such a welcome idea any longer. If the crew had had this much bad luck before reaching the island, what would happen after they nicked from the weapons cache? Gibbs didn't want to think about it, but he did nonetheless.
What if the sword had a curse upon it-like those 882 pieces of Aztec gold?
What if the French had more than just guards stationed at the cache?
What if there was /nothing /in the weapons cache?
What if the Pearl suddenly capsized, and everyone drowned?
Gibbs shook his head, grumbled something about bad water, and yanked hard on a rope line. He listened absently as seawater pelted the thick canvas sail that now billowed out in the wind and wondered why he'd ever agreed to go along with this unhinged "quest."
Of course.
He had wanted a good sword.
"I'm a ruddy fool," Gibbs muttered to himself and tightened the ropes once more. The wind ate his words before he could even hear them.
*
Things were beginning to feel just perfect. Governor Swann was in awe of Will and his ability to care for Elizabeth in the monetary and literal senses, and was finally accepting his status as blacksmith and pirate; if the boy took care of his little girl, that was enough for him.
Business was prospering; Port Royal was slowly coming back together... Elizabeth was expecting... Will had never been happier.
"The sun is about to set, Will. Would you like to sit on the porch with me?"
He kissed his wife on the cheek and smiled warmly. "You know perfectly well that I would love to sit on the porch with you to watch the sunset, Elizabeth."
Will held her in his arms and they watched the sun turn the sky from cerulean blue to burnt orange and vibrant red to violet to velvet black. The stars were shining brightly, and the moon was close and luminous and everything was just... perfect. And inevitably, peace was shattered.
"Ahoy!"
/ /Will started, waking Elizabeth and trying in vain to calm the hammering of his heart. The call had been sudden and quite unexpected, and he knew the voice from somewhere...
"Turner!/ Boy, ye hear me?!"/
/Will frowned, and Elizabeth looked up at him from her position against his chest. /That's... "Mr. Gibbs?!"
The couple heard a boat slide up onto the beach, and in the white light cast by the moon, they could see the condition that the old pirate was in. Carefully, Will disengaged himself from Elizabeth and went to help Gibbs walk closer to the light.
"What...what happened?" Elizabeth asked.
Gibbs looked terrible. He was malnourished, dehydrated, sleep deprived, and sporting a rather nasty set of scratch marks on his shoulder. His shirt was torn, and the skin that had been injured was festering. Elizabeth took this all in and gasped.
"Mr. Gibbs!!"
"It's terrible... Just bloody awful. Jack..."
"Jack what?" Will interjected. He immediately cursed himself. "Why don't you come inside, Mr. Gibbs. We'll have our maid ready a meal and-"
"No time!" Gibbs snapped, suddenly grabbing Will's shirt and shaking him. "Summat terrible has happened! Legarou is loose, and tis all me own fault!"
"Le...garou?" Elizabeth repeated, frowning delicately.
"Aye... And I came 'ere because I... I..." Gibbs frowned. "Best I should begin from the beginning..."
Elizabeth made him take a meal and clean up a bit before starting. She ignored all of his protests and insisted, and as soon as the last cup of water was downed, Gibbs began to weave his tale.
"It all started when Jack got it in 'is head to go after this cache of weapons that the French left behind after the war..."
¤
A full moon hung high overhead like a heavy pearl in its diamond-studded black velvet purse. Nighttime, as Jack said, was the best time to pilfer and or filch, maraud and plunder. "Most gits are left unawares in the dark," he'd wisely stated.
Just as Jack had expected, several French soldiers (that made house out of a shack) guarded the cave. They were currently playing a tropical version of the shell game (consisting of three coconut shell halves and a rock), and thus distracted. So they didn't expect a soggy pirate to walk right among them.
"Pardon me, my good gentlemen, but do you know how to get to the Grenadines from here?"
He received three blank, blinking French stares in return.
"Oh, terribly sorry. Don't speak the King's English, do you? Then, I'll just be on my own way. Bonjour." Jack tipped his hat and started walking in the direction of the cave. Three Frenchies immediately blocked his path and began rattling off something about authorization and...something else that Jack didn't quite catch. He let them go on, making apologetic faces here and there and stammering a few things that basically summed up his misunderstanding and that he had no idea what they were saying. Which was an outright lie.
As he distracted the guards, Gibbs, Anamaria, and two other pirates crept into the cave and followed the well-worn path into a main center chamber. Bayonets lined one wall, rifles the next, and an assortment of rapiers and sabers were lying in a heap in a separate alcove. Two swords were imbedded into the wall above the pile, and Gibbs immediately made his way toward them. The first was the one Jack was looking for-a silver material with gold filigree made up the impressive-looking cutlass. The other one was just steel, slightly tarnished, and bearing an ornate handle that had wolves etched into the metallic surface.
His dreamed weapon.
Eager to feel the weight of the saber in his hands, Gibbs pulled free the cutlass and set it to the side before working on removing his find. It came free with more than a little resistance, but the end result was what he'd been waiting for. It felt glorious to hold a weapon in his hand and be able to call it his own.
His rapture was short-lived.
Gibbs had turned his back to the alcove, and he didn't notice the slight vibration coming from behind it. Nor did he see the cracks start along the overhang. The noise, however, caused him to take notice-as did the French soldiers who were yelling at Jack outside. All Gibbs could do was turn and stare in awe as the alcove cracked wide open.
It looked as though the pits of Hell had erupted onto the earth's surface. Brimstone smoke singed his hair and burned his lungs-he vaguely heard Anamaria and the two other pirates' screams of terror over the din that was before him. No, it didn't just look like he'd imagined Hell... It was Hell. Though it stung his eyes, Gibbs could see deep into the burning shadows and make out several writhing figures shrieking in the flames. He didn't have much time to ponder the oddity and horror of the situation, however, for no sooner had the chasm opened before him a creature fell forward onto the hard-packed earth of the center chamber. Its arms and legs were bound together in chain that was glowing white-hot. From his position against the wall lined with rifles, Gibbs could smell the pungent odor of burnt flesh and hair mixed in with the stench of sulfuric brimstone.
The creature that 'Hell itself spat out' was enormous but not lacking in humanoid features. It was crouched (wailing in agony) upon the floor with five-fingered (and clawed) hands tugging at the merciless chains that cooked its hide, its feet left deep gouges in the ground as it tried to kick its way to freedom. Had it not been for the thick, matted brown fur all over it and the pronounced muzzle and pointed ears upon its face and head, Gibbs would have thought it to be a human.
It clearly wasn't.
The fiery pit closed abruptly, with one warning (given in a voice so deep and distorted that Gibbs could barely make out the language's root, much less the words) in Latin. The creature from Beyond was left in the living world, and its chains were blackening as the cool cave air did its natural work. Anger bled off it in waves.
Anamaria and the others had wisely bolted the hell out of there, but Gibbs couldn't move. His feet had up and rooted themselves among the ball and powder-shot rifles, and fear kept him there.
What in blue blazes is that thing??
The adamant cutlass was light in his left hand, but the saber... It felt so cumbersome and heavy. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?
"Furunculus//!" it said around a mouthful of nasty looking teeth. Gibbs felt his sweat glands pick up production, and the saber gained six pounds.
A link in the chain wrapped about it snapped in half, and Gibbs jolted. "Latronis//!" it yelled-louder the second time.
From the entrance of the cave, one of the three French guards cried out. "Legarou!"
Gibbs made the mistake of looking back at the speaker, and at that precise moment the chains completely snapped apart. The last thing he clearly remembered was a sharp pain in his shoulder and the blurred edges of the tropical flora as he sprinted to shore.
Jack watched almost helplessly as the two boats that his mission's miniature crew had taken to shore were now heading toward the Pearl at top speed. Well, Anamaria's was. Gibbs was listing to the west. Beside him, three Frenchmen were going out of their trees with panic as this creature... This 'Legarou,' shifted into a standing position inside the weapons cache. And the first thing that the Great Captain Jack Sparrow could think of to say, you ask?
"Well..." he raised one eyebrow and idly twisted his mustache. "That's interesting."
He lifted the cutlass that Mr. Gibbs had dropped and swung it into a ready position.
¤
"At least, I think that's what he would have said. I was a bit far to hear him, but I did see the Captain ready a weapon," Gibbs finished.
Elizabeth felt a twitch developing in her eyebrow as a result of keeping her frown mechanism in restraint. "You mean to say that... You left him there on a Hell-borne creature infested island with naught but a sword to protect him?!"
Mr. Gibbs shivered. "'Twas not of me own intentions, missy. I was running on instinct, I was. Tell me what ye'd do if some creature came out of the pit of Hell and called ye a...a...a...whatever it was and then clawed yer shoulder. And Jack had a gun besides."
Will interrupted the both of them. "So... You're saying that you essentially freed a...demon...from Hell, and it's looking to hunt you down?"
"Aye."
"And you came here?"
"Aye."
Will felt the insane urge to slap the man well up in his middle, and he had to restrain his own hand. "Which means it will still be hunting you down."
"'Tis a fair inference," Gibbs shrugged.
"And you came here," Will repeated.
Gibbs had the foresight to feel foolish.
Review, please!
PART 2:
"The sea hates a coward!" -Eugene O'Neill
/ /There was one thing about being on a ship after nightfall that even the roughest, toughest, most stalwart pirate could enjoy: the unobstructed view of the starlit night. Standing at the helm, Jack pondered the vicissitudes of life. Well, that and the how in hell he was going to keep out of crossing too close to Norrington's search pattern. Anamaria had brought up a very good point during dinner-they could not swing by Port Royal. Which meant they had to take the long way 'round and pass Tortuga.
Jack was only slightly miffed at missing the chance to see Will and Elizabeth go giddy over each other. They deserved it after all.
Absently, Jack cracked his knuckles and made another minor change in course. Behind him, Anamaria stood and watched. She had thought that he didn't know of her presence, so when he spoke to her, the lady pirate jumped.
"Anything in particular that you'd like to bring to my attention, or were you just havin' a stare?"
Anamaria held a hand above her heart to calm the racing down, but it didn't work. She took a deep, but quiet, breath and cleared her throat. "Just havin' a stare," she ventured a bit closer to him and looked up at the clear night sky. "Calm out tonight," she said.
"Aye. Tis either a sign of good things to come, or bad," Jack mused.
Anamaria glanced sideways at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "So... When am I goin' to get me promised boat? You sunk the one you stole from me and the one ye promised me got blown up."
"Borrowed," he corrected her.
Her fist clenched, and she felt the natural urge to slap him. "Makes no difference, Jack Sparrow. You owe me a boat."
"Captain," he corrected her again.
Anamaria's cheek twitched as she tried to hold back a grin. He never did answer her.
*
Dawn came with a terrible vengeance, the sky was painted a vicious blood red, and that was more than enough cause to make Gibbs worried. Red skies in the morning were known notoriously for the bad luck they brought upon sailors. When he mentioned this to Jack, all he received in response was:
"Then it's a good thing that we're pirates, not sailors, aye?"
Gibbs did not like that.
Besides the burning red dawn, half the crew was showing symptoms of scurvy, and they had to pull into the nearest port to nick some fruit to calm it down. Gibbs saw these signs as sure reasons why they should not go after the sword, but Jack waved it off with a glib "this-happens-all-the-time-you-should-know-/Mister/-Gibbs" and an orange thrown at his head.
He peeled the orange and absently stared at the captain through the corner of his eye. Jack was humming his song again.
*
The sea was rebelling. That was the only way Gibbs could describe it. Great waves crashed on deck and soaked the entire crew. The one thing that told the old pirate that this was a squall more severe than any he'd been in was a single order that came from Jack's very own mouth.
"Drop canvas!" he'd shouted against the thundering roar of the wind.
In all of the time that he'd known him, Gibbs had never heard those two words utter from Jack's tongue. It was foreign. It was an omen.
Somehow, traveling to Petite Terre didn't seem like such a welcome idea any longer. If the crew had had this much bad luck before reaching the island, what would happen after they nicked from the weapons cache? Gibbs didn't want to think about it, but he did nonetheless.
What if the sword had a curse upon it-like those 882 pieces of Aztec gold?
What if the French had more than just guards stationed at the cache?
What if there was /nothing /in the weapons cache?
What if the Pearl suddenly capsized, and everyone drowned?
Gibbs shook his head, grumbled something about bad water, and yanked hard on a rope line. He listened absently as seawater pelted the thick canvas sail that now billowed out in the wind and wondered why he'd ever agreed to go along with this unhinged "quest."
Of course.
He had wanted a good sword.
"I'm a ruddy fool," Gibbs muttered to himself and tightened the ropes once more. The wind ate his words before he could even hear them.
*
Things were beginning to feel just perfect. Governor Swann was in awe of Will and his ability to care for Elizabeth in the monetary and literal senses, and was finally accepting his status as blacksmith and pirate; if the boy took care of his little girl, that was enough for him.
Business was prospering; Port Royal was slowly coming back together... Elizabeth was expecting... Will had never been happier.
"The sun is about to set, Will. Would you like to sit on the porch with me?"
He kissed his wife on the cheek and smiled warmly. "You know perfectly well that I would love to sit on the porch with you to watch the sunset, Elizabeth."
Will held her in his arms and they watched the sun turn the sky from cerulean blue to burnt orange and vibrant red to violet to velvet black. The stars were shining brightly, and the moon was close and luminous and everything was just... perfect. And inevitably, peace was shattered.
"Ahoy!"
/ /Will started, waking Elizabeth and trying in vain to calm the hammering of his heart. The call had been sudden and quite unexpected, and he knew the voice from somewhere...
"Turner!/ Boy, ye hear me?!"/
/Will frowned, and Elizabeth looked up at him from her position against his chest. /That's... "Mr. Gibbs?!"
The couple heard a boat slide up onto the beach, and in the white light cast by the moon, they could see the condition that the old pirate was in. Carefully, Will disengaged himself from Elizabeth and went to help Gibbs walk closer to the light.
"What...what happened?" Elizabeth asked.
Gibbs looked terrible. He was malnourished, dehydrated, sleep deprived, and sporting a rather nasty set of scratch marks on his shoulder. His shirt was torn, and the skin that had been injured was festering. Elizabeth took this all in and gasped.
"Mr. Gibbs!!"
"It's terrible... Just bloody awful. Jack..."
"Jack what?" Will interjected. He immediately cursed himself. "Why don't you come inside, Mr. Gibbs. We'll have our maid ready a meal and-"
"No time!" Gibbs snapped, suddenly grabbing Will's shirt and shaking him. "Summat terrible has happened! Legarou is loose, and tis all me own fault!"
"Le...garou?" Elizabeth repeated, frowning delicately.
"Aye... And I came 'ere because I... I..." Gibbs frowned. "Best I should begin from the beginning..."
Elizabeth made him take a meal and clean up a bit before starting. She ignored all of his protests and insisted, and as soon as the last cup of water was downed, Gibbs began to weave his tale.
"It all started when Jack got it in 'is head to go after this cache of weapons that the French left behind after the war..."
¤
A full moon hung high overhead like a heavy pearl in its diamond-studded black velvet purse. Nighttime, as Jack said, was the best time to pilfer and or filch, maraud and plunder. "Most gits are left unawares in the dark," he'd wisely stated.
Just as Jack had expected, several French soldiers (that made house out of a shack) guarded the cave. They were currently playing a tropical version of the shell game (consisting of three coconut shell halves and a rock), and thus distracted. So they didn't expect a soggy pirate to walk right among them.
"Pardon me, my good gentlemen, but do you know how to get to the Grenadines from here?"
He received three blank, blinking French stares in return.
"Oh, terribly sorry. Don't speak the King's English, do you? Then, I'll just be on my own way. Bonjour." Jack tipped his hat and started walking in the direction of the cave. Three Frenchies immediately blocked his path and began rattling off something about authorization and...something else that Jack didn't quite catch. He let them go on, making apologetic faces here and there and stammering a few things that basically summed up his misunderstanding and that he had no idea what they were saying. Which was an outright lie.
As he distracted the guards, Gibbs, Anamaria, and two other pirates crept into the cave and followed the well-worn path into a main center chamber. Bayonets lined one wall, rifles the next, and an assortment of rapiers and sabers were lying in a heap in a separate alcove. Two swords were imbedded into the wall above the pile, and Gibbs immediately made his way toward them. The first was the one Jack was looking for-a silver material with gold filigree made up the impressive-looking cutlass. The other one was just steel, slightly tarnished, and bearing an ornate handle that had wolves etched into the metallic surface.
His dreamed weapon.
Eager to feel the weight of the saber in his hands, Gibbs pulled free the cutlass and set it to the side before working on removing his find. It came free with more than a little resistance, but the end result was what he'd been waiting for. It felt glorious to hold a weapon in his hand and be able to call it his own.
His rapture was short-lived.
Gibbs had turned his back to the alcove, and he didn't notice the slight vibration coming from behind it. Nor did he see the cracks start along the overhang. The noise, however, caused him to take notice-as did the French soldiers who were yelling at Jack outside. All Gibbs could do was turn and stare in awe as the alcove cracked wide open.
It looked as though the pits of Hell had erupted onto the earth's surface. Brimstone smoke singed his hair and burned his lungs-he vaguely heard Anamaria and the two other pirates' screams of terror over the din that was before him. No, it didn't just look like he'd imagined Hell... It was Hell. Though it stung his eyes, Gibbs could see deep into the burning shadows and make out several writhing figures shrieking in the flames. He didn't have much time to ponder the oddity and horror of the situation, however, for no sooner had the chasm opened before him a creature fell forward onto the hard-packed earth of the center chamber. Its arms and legs were bound together in chain that was glowing white-hot. From his position against the wall lined with rifles, Gibbs could smell the pungent odor of burnt flesh and hair mixed in with the stench of sulfuric brimstone.
The creature that 'Hell itself spat out' was enormous but not lacking in humanoid features. It was crouched (wailing in agony) upon the floor with five-fingered (and clawed) hands tugging at the merciless chains that cooked its hide, its feet left deep gouges in the ground as it tried to kick its way to freedom. Had it not been for the thick, matted brown fur all over it and the pronounced muzzle and pointed ears upon its face and head, Gibbs would have thought it to be a human.
It clearly wasn't.
The fiery pit closed abruptly, with one warning (given in a voice so deep and distorted that Gibbs could barely make out the language's root, much less the words) in Latin. The creature from Beyond was left in the living world, and its chains were blackening as the cool cave air did its natural work. Anger bled off it in waves.
Anamaria and the others had wisely bolted the hell out of there, but Gibbs couldn't move. His feet had up and rooted themselves among the ball and powder-shot rifles, and fear kept him there.
What in blue blazes is that thing??
The adamant cutlass was light in his left hand, but the saber... It felt so cumbersome and heavy. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?
"Furunculus//!" it said around a mouthful of nasty looking teeth. Gibbs felt his sweat glands pick up production, and the saber gained six pounds.
A link in the chain wrapped about it snapped in half, and Gibbs jolted. "Latronis//!" it yelled-louder the second time.
From the entrance of the cave, one of the three French guards cried out. "Legarou!"
Gibbs made the mistake of looking back at the speaker, and at that precise moment the chains completely snapped apart. The last thing he clearly remembered was a sharp pain in his shoulder and the blurred edges of the tropical flora as he sprinted to shore.
Jack watched almost helplessly as the two boats that his mission's miniature crew had taken to shore were now heading toward the Pearl at top speed. Well, Anamaria's was. Gibbs was listing to the west. Beside him, three Frenchmen were going out of their trees with panic as this creature... This 'Legarou,' shifted into a standing position inside the weapons cache. And the first thing that the Great Captain Jack Sparrow could think of to say, you ask?
"Well..." he raised one eyebrow and idly twisted his mustache. "That's interesting."
He lifted the cutlass that Mr. Gibbs had dropped and swung it into a ready position.
¤
"At least, I think that's what he would have said. I was a bit far to hear him, but I did see the Captain ready a weapon," Gibbs finished.
Elizabeth felt a twitch developing in her eyebrow as a result of keeping her frown mechanism in restraint. "You mean to say that... You left him there on a Hell-borne creature infested island with naught but a sword to protect him?!"
Mr. Gibbs shivered. "'Twas not of me own intentions, missy. I was running on instinct, I was. Tell me what ye'd do if some creature came out of the pit of Hell and called ye a...a...a...whatever it was and then clawed yer shoulder. And Jack had a gun besides."
Will interrupted the both of them. "So... You're saying that you essentially freed a...demon...from Hell, and it's looking to hunt you down?"
"Aye."
"And you came here?"
"Aye."
Will felt the insane urge to slap the man well up in his middle, and he had to restrain his own hand. "Which means it will still be hunting you down."
"'Tis a fair inference," Gibbs shrugged.
"And you came here," Will repeated.
Gibbs had the foresight to feel foolish.
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DISCLAIMER: Disney owns the characters and whatnot, not I DISCLAIMER: Disney owns the characters and whatnot, not I.
PART 2:
"The sea hates a coward!" -Eugene O'Neill
/ /There was one thing about being on a ship after nightfall that even the roughest, toughest, most stalwart pirate could enjoy: the unobstructed view of the starlit night. Standing at the helm, Jack pondered the vicissitudes of life. Well, that and the how in hell he was going to keep out of crossing too close to Norrington's search pattern. Anamaria had brought up a very good point during dinner-they could not swing by Port Royal. Which meant they had to take the long way 'round and pass Tortuga.
Jack was only slightly miffed at missing the chance to see Will and Elizabeth go giddy over each other. They deserved it after all.
Absently, Jack cracked his knuckles and made another minor change in course. Behind him, Anamaria stood and watched. She had thought that he didn't know of her presence, so when he spoke to her, the lady pirate jumped.
"Anything in particular that you'd like to bring to my attention, or were you just havin' a stare?"
Anamaria held a hand above her heart to calm the racing down, but it didn't work. She took a deep, but quiet, breath and cleared her throat. "Just havin' a stare," she ventured a bit closer to him and looked up at the clear night sky. "Calm out tonight," she said.
"Aye. Tis either a sign of good things to come, or bad," Jack mused.
Anamaria glanced sideways at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "So... When am I goin' to get me promised boat? You sunk the one you stole from me and the one ye promised me got blown up."
"Borrowed," he corrected her.
Her fist clenched, and she felt the natural urge to slap him. "Makes no difference, Jack Sparrow. You owe me a boat."
"Captain," he corrected her again.
Anamaria's cheek twitched as she tried to hold back a grin. He never did answer her.
*
Dawn came with a terrible vengeance, the sky was painted a vicious blood red, and that was more than enough cause to make Gibbs worried. Red skies in the morning were known notoriously for the bad luck they brought upon sailors. When he mentioned this to Jack, all he received in response was:
"Then it's a good thing that we're pirates, not sailors, aye?"
Gibbs did not like that.
Besides the burning red dawn, half the crew was showing symptoms of scurvy, and they had to pull into the nearest port to nick some fruit to calm it down. Gibbs saw these signs as sure reasons why they should not go after the sword, but Jack waved it off with a glib "this-happens-all-the-time-you-should-know-/Mister/-Gibbs" and an orange thrown at his head.
He peeled the orange and absently stared at the captain through the corner of his eye. Jack was humming his song again.
*
The sea was rebelling. That was the only way Gibbs could describe it. Great waves crashed on deck and soaked the entire crew. The one thing that told the old pirate that this was a squall more severe than any he'd been in was a single order that came from Jack's very own mouth.
"Drop canvas!" he'd shouted against the thundering roar of the wind.
In all of the time that he'd known him, Gibbs had never heard those two words utter from Jack's tongue. It was foreign. It was an omen.
Somehow, traveling to Petite Terre didn't seem like such a welcome idea any longer. If the crew had had this much bad luck before reaching the island, what would happen after they nicked from the weapons cache? Gibbs didn't want to think about it, but he did nonetheless.
What if the sword had a curse upon it-like those 882 pieces of Aztec gold?
What if the French had more than just guards stationed at the cache?
What if there was /nothing /in the weapons cache?
What if the Pearl suddenly capsized, and everyone drowned?
Gibbs shook his head, grumbled something about bad water, and yanked hard on a rope line. He listened absently as seawater pelted the thick canvas sail that now billowed out in the wind and wondered why he'd ever agreed to go along with this unhinged "quest."
Of course.
He had wanted a good sword.
"I'm a ruddy fool," Gibbs muttered to himself and tightened the ropes once more. The wind ate his words before he could even hear them.
*
Things were beginning to feel just perfect. Governor Swann was in awe of Will and his ability to care for Elizabeth in the monetary and literal senses, and was finally accepting his status as blacksmith and pirate; if the boy took care of his little girl, that was enough for him.
Business was prospering; Port Royal was slowly coming back together... Elizabeth was expecting... Will had never been happier.
"The sun is about to set, Will. Would you like to sit on the porch with me?"
He kissed his wife on the cheek and smiled warmly. "You know perfectly well that I would love to sit on the porch with you to watch the sunset, Elizabeth."
Will held her in his arms and they watched the sun turn the sky from cerulean blue to burnt orange and vibrant red to violet to velvet black. The stars were shining brightly, and the moon was close and luminous and everything was just... perfect. And inevitably, peace was shattered.
"Ahoy!"
/ /Will started, waking Elizabeth and trying in vain to calm the hammering of his heart. The call had been sudden and quite unexpected, and he knew the voice from somewhere...
"Turner!/ Boy, ye hear me?!"/
/Will frowned, and Elizabeth looked up at him from her position against his chest. /That's... "Mr. Gibbs?!"
The couple heard a boat slide up onto the beach, and in the white light cast by the moon, they could see the condition that the old pirate was in. Carefully, Will disengaged himself from Elizabeth and went to help Gibbs walk closer to the light.
"What...what happened?" Elizabeth asked.
Gibbs looked terrible. He was malnourished, dehydrated, sleep deprived, and sporting a rather nasty set of scratch marks on his shoulder. His shirt was torn, and the skin that had been injured was festering. Elizabeth took this all in and gasped.
"Mr. Gibbs!!"
"It's terrible... Just bloody awful. Jack..."
"Jack what?" Will interjected. He immediately cursed himself. "Why don't you come inside, Mr. Gibbs. We'll have our maid ready a meal and-"
"No time!" Gibbs snapped, suddenly grabbing Will's shirt and shaking him. "Summat terrible has happened! Legarou is loose, and tis all me own fault!"
"Le...garou?" Elizabeth repeated, frowning delicately.
"Aye... And I came 'ere because I... I..." Gibbs frowned. "Best I should begin from the beginning..."
Elizabeth made him take a meal and clean up a bit before starting. She ignored all of his protests and insisted, and as soon as the last cup of water was downed, Gibbs began to weave his tale.
"It all started when Jack got it in 'is head to go after this cache of weapons that the French left behind after the war..."
¤
A full moon hung high overhead like a heavy pearl in its diamond-studded black velvet purse. Nighttime, as Jack said, was the best time to pilfer and or filch, maraud and plunder. "Most gits are left unawares in the dark," he'd wisely stated.
Just as Jack had expected, several French soldiers (that made house out of a shack) guarded the cave. They were currently playing a tropical version of the shell game (consisting of three coconut shell halves and a rock), and thus distracted. So they didn't expect a soggy pirate to walk right among them.
"Pardon me, my good gentlemen, but do you know how to get to the Grenadines from here?"
He received three blank, blinking French stares in return.
"Oh, terribly sorry. Don't speak the King's English, do you? Then, I'll just be on my own way. Bonjour." Jack tipped his hat and started walking in the direction of the cave. Three Frenchies immediately blocked his path and began rattling off something about authorization and...something else that Jack didn't quite catch. He let them go on, making apologetic faces here and there and stammering a few things that basically summed up his misunderstanding and that he had no idea what they were saying. Which was an outright lie.
As he distracted the guards, Gibbs, Anamaria, and two other pirates crept into the cave and followed the well-worn path into a main center chamber. Bayonets lined one wall, rifles the next, and an assortment of rapiers and sabers were lying in a heap in a separate alcove. Two swords were imbedded into the wall above the pile, and Gibbs immediately made his way toward them. The first was the one Jack was looking for-a silver material with gold filigree made up the impressive-looking cutlass. The other one was just steel, slightly tarnished, and bearing an ornate handle that had wolves etched into the metallic surface.
His dreamed weapon.
Eager to feel the weight of the saber in his hands, Gibbs pulled free the cutlass and set it to the side before working on removing his find. It came free with more than a little resistance, but the end result was what he'd been waiting for. It felt glorious to hold a weapon in his hand and be able to call it his own.
His rapture was short-lived.
Gibbs had turned his back to the alcove, and he didn't notice the slight vibration coming from behind it. Nor did he see the cracks start along the overhang. The noise, however, caused him to take notice-as did the French soldiers who were yelling at Jack outside. All Gibbs could do was turn and stare in awe as the alcove cracked wide open.
It looked as though the pits of Hell had erupted onto the earth's surface. Brimstone smoke singed his hair and burned his lungs-he vaguely heard Anamaria and the two other pirates' screams of terror over the din that was before him. No, it didn't just look like he'd imagined Hell... It was Hell. Though it stung his eyes, Gibbs could see deep into the burning shadows and make out several writhing figures shrieking in the flames. He didn't have much time to ponder the oddity and horror of the situation, however, for no sooner had the chasm opened before him a creature fell forward onto the hard-packed earth of the center chamber. Its arms and legs were bound together in chain that was glowing white-hot. From his position against the wall lined with rifles, Gibbs could smell the pungent odor of burnt flesh and hair mixed in with the stench of sulfuric brimstone.
The creature that 'Hell itself spat out' was enormous but not lacking in humanoid features. It was crouched (wailing in agony) upon the floor with five-fingered (and clawed) hands tugging at the merciless chains that cooked its hide, its feet left deep gouges in the ground as it tried to kick its way to freedom. Had it not been for the thick, matted brown fur all over it and the pronounced muzzle and pointed ears upon its face and head, Gibbs would have thought it to be a human.
It clearly wasn't.
The fiery pit closed abruptly, with one warning (given in a voice so deep and distorted that Gibbs could barely make out the language's root, much less the words) in Latin. The creature from Beyond was left in the living world, and its chains were blackening as the cool cave air did its natural work. Anger bled off it in waves.
Anamaria and the others had wisely bolted the hell out of there, but Gibbs couldn't move. His feet had up and rooted themselves among the ball and powder-shot rifles, and fear kept him there.
What in blue blazes is that thing??
The adamant cutlass was light in his left hand, but the saber... It felt so cumbersome and heavy. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?
"Furunculus//!" it said around a mouthful of nasty looking teeth. Gibbs felt his sweat glands pick up production, and the saber gained six pounds.
A link in the chain wrapped about it snapped in half, and Gibbs jolted. "Latronis//!" it yelled-louder the second time.
From the entrance of the cave, one of the three French guards cried out. "Legarou!"
Gibbs made the mistake of looking back at the speaker, and at that precise moment the chains completely snapped apart. The last thing he clearly remembered was a sharp pain in his shoulder and the blurred edges of the tropical flora as he sprinted to shore.
Jack watched almost helplessly as the two boats that his mission's miniature crew had taken to shore were now heading toward the Pearl at top speed. Well, Anamaria's was. Gibbs was listing to the west. Beside him, three Frenchmen were going out of their trees with panic as this creature... This 'Legarou,' shifted into a standing position inside the weapons cache. And the first thing that the Great Captain Jack Sparrow could think of to say, you ask?
"Well..." he raised one eyebrow and idly twisted his mustache. "That's interesting."
He lifted the cutlass that Mr. Gibbs had dropped and swung it into a ready position.
¤
"At least, I think that's what he would have said. I was a bit far to hear him, but I did see the Captain ready a weapon," Gibbs finished.
Elizabeth felt a twitch developing in her eyebrow as a result of keeping her frown mechanism in restraint. "You mean to say that... You left him there on a Hell-borne creature infested island with naught but a sword to protect him?!"
Mr. Gibbs shivered. "'Twas not of me own intentions, missy. I was running on instinct, I was. Tell me what ye'd do if some creature came out of the pit of Hell and called ye a...a...a...whatever it was and then clawed yer shoulder. And Jack had a gun besides."
Will interrupted the both of them. "So... You're saying that you essentially freed a...demon...from Hell, and it's looking to hunt you down?"
"Aye."
"And you came here?"
"Aye."
Will felt the insane urge to slap the man well up in his middle, and he had to restrain his own hand. "Which means it will still be hunting you down."
"'Tis a fair inference," Gibbs shrugged.
"And you came here," Will repeated.
Gibbs had the foresight to feel foolish.
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