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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cannons roared and shook the ship down to its keel. Smoke poured
from gun ports and flintlocks, obscuring the yellow and red coat of
arms on the white background of the ensign. There was cursing
and fighting and all of the usual chaos. This went on for some
time.
"Yo cedo! Yo cedo!" The Spanish captain lowered his cutlass and
bowed his head, finally defeated. "Coloques sus armas, hombres,"
he ordered.
Although a few scrappers were still engaged with the boarding
party, the battle was all but over. The defeated man held his sword
by the blunt edge of the blade, offering its hilt to his adversary.
"Ah, gracias, Capitan. Wonderful idea! You surrender, we take
what we need and leave your crew and ship unharmed, and we'll
all be on our merry way just in time for dinner and some rum and
maybe a couple rounds of goat-wrestling before it gets dark."
The Spaniard frowned, being quite puzzled even though he thought
he had a pretty good grasp of English. Again he offered the sword
to his foe. The pirate sheathed his own weapon and continued to
talk, as was his particular idiom, while eagerly reaching for the
proffered sword. At the same time, a pair of straggling scufflers
hurled each other across the deck and bowled into the Spaniard's
back. The pirate continued to orate, obviously lost in another world
which existed only in his own delusions--or perhaps somewhere in
the nest of dreadlocks underneath his hat.
"This is the day you will always remember as the day you were
spared utter and complete humiliation by Captain Ja-"
The men shoved against the Spaniard, who stumbled forward with
the sword, the pummel of which met the pirate's temple with a
whack not unlike that of a coconut dropped onto cobblestone by a
migrating European swallow. The pirate stood frozen for a
moment, mouth agape, one finger pointing resolutely toward the
heavens. Then his eyes rolled back, and he did, too...over the
starboard railing.
Everyone from both crews turned to stare. Silence fell as quickly
as did the pirate, soon followed by a resounding smack as he hit
the ocean.
The Spaniard just shook his head.
"Ese tiene que ser el pirata mas extrano que he visto siempre."
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Jack felt a cold, wet hand wrap around his wrist.
I already told you, Jack. The time is up. It comes now...
The spot, the Kraken, the inexplicable absence of rum--It was
happening all over again.
Jack struggled against the grip that held him...against the
inevitable.
"Calm down, now."
The meaning of the words was muddled by pain. Jack's head
throbbed with each heartbeat. He felt like he'd just been slapped by
every whore in the Greater Antilles.
"You can stop fighting, Jack. I'm trying to help you."
Something about the voice, the soothing tone of it, relaxed him. He
tried to open his eyes. Only the left one complied--the right was
swollen nearly shut. Then Jack felt the cold palm still wrapped
around his wrist. He sat upright, chills racing down his spine. But
the hand on his arm was not encased in shipworms and barnacles--
it was fleshy and pink and reassuringly human. He looked up to
see a familiar face.
"Bill? Wha-...what are you doing on a Manila galleon?"
And next to the familiar face was another familiar face similar to
the first one, both in its similarity and its familiarity.
"William? Er...Captain Turner," he corrected himself. Jack
squinted, unsure if he was looking at one, two, three, or four
Williams Turner. Bill released his wrist and rested a hand on his
shoulder. Jack winced, his head still pounding.
"You should lie back, take it easy," the older man advised. "Took a
nasty lick there, and you're half-drowned besides."
Jack nodded slightly and allowed himself to sink back into the
pillow. He frowned, trying to remember what had happened. There
was a raid, and everything seemed to be going swimmingly. And
then suddenly he was going swimming... But the thinking hurt too
much, so he gave up on that.
"I'll go fetch you some water," Bill offered before disappearing
from view.
"So, Will...we're on the Dutchman, correct?" Jack paused,
horrified by a sudden realization. "Am I dead? Uh, again?"
"Not this time, Jack. Father pulled you from the water. And don't
worry, your crew's fine. Gibbs directed the remainder of the
pillaging and looting quite competently, from what I saw."
"Ah, good, good." He coughed a couple times then groaned. When
he was finished being miserable, Jack took a moment to study the
ornate Greek carvings and decorations of his surroundings. "Nice
cabin you have here. Didn't quite have a chance to admire it
before. Oh... what's that?"
Jack craned his neck to see past Will with his one good eye,
ignoring the stars and red flashes and other niggling protests of his
head wound. This was simply too good to pass up.
"You still have that? Wow. I never realized it was so huge, so,
so...prominent..."
"What?" Will looked down and then behind himself uncertainly.
"Very impressive. I might have to get one of those--an even more
huger one, of course."
"Jack..." Will warned, suddenly understanding. He glared at the
pirate, daring him to say another word.
"Nice organ, mate."
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