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Disclaimer: Pirates of the
Rating: T for now.
Characters: Most of the entire cast
Pairings: Will/Elizabeth, Jack/Anamaria,
Setting: After At World’s End
The Chosen
Chapter 14: The Cross
-
Tortuga, of all the places the compass could have directed Jack Sparrow, it had chosen to point at
The golden arrow had begun to waver, the point deviated from the steady direction it had originally pointed to and was slowly shifting. It had boggled Jack’s mind ever since he set foot on the solid ground. He could not understand why the compass’s direction was shifting in that matter, he was thinking of the cross and imagined the son of old Bootstrap with horns and glowing red eyes. Not once did he think too hard about Anamaria and not once did the arrow waver, not until they made port.
“Jack,” Gibbs called to him. “Where do ye think ye are going?” Jack’s first mate was standing several yards away with a beleaguered expression on his face.
Jack paused in mid step. He stared at his compass, and then at his crew. “Why did you go that way?”
“We didn’t,” Gibbs said. “We were going in the same path you pointed at. It was you who went staggering into the wrong direction.”
“I did?” Jack swaggered back to his crew and stared at his compass. The arrow was back to where it was. “That would explain everything.”
“Can’t even walk straight,” Pintel shook his head. “How is ‘E going to be much use?”
“He’s the captain,” Ragetti shrugged. “He knows what to do.”
“Just because he is the captain doesn’t mean he knows what he is doing.” Pintel held up his hands in frustration. “He is going to end up walking off a cliff and we are going to follow him like lemons.”
“Lemmings,” Ragetti corrected. “Those Scandinavian rodents are called lemmings.”
“When did you become the expert on everything from
The blond man shrugged. “I dunno. I just know we can count on the captain, ‘cause he is Captain Jack Sparrow.”
Jack couldn’t help not to grin. “Right you are.” He gave the one eyed man a light pat on the head before he turned around and continued to swagger.
“Jack,” Gibbs grabbed onto his shoulder from behind. “Might I be havin a word with ye?”
“Say anything you want, even If I won’t like it.” He blinked. “However I won’t know if I will like it or not until you say it.”
“I know ye can handle yer rum and still fight with the best of em, but it seems ye have drunk more than your usual share.”
“I seen him drink two bottles of rum at the same time,” Ragetti said.
“I thought we were whispering,” Jack just stared at his crew when it dawned on him. “Ah yes, we are not quite human.” He ran his fingers over the pointed tips of his own ears. “I had to. I’m drinking for two now.”
“Pardon?” Gibbs blinked.
“With my dear Anamaria in the family way she cannot drink her rum. I have to do the drinking for her.”
“Why don’t you just share it the rest of us?” Pintel asked.
“Share rum,” the blue parrot on Cotton’s shoulder squawked.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Jack pointed two fingers in the air. “I’ll try to remember that the next time.”
“I will help you remember,” Gibbs said.
“Yes, of course.” Jack spun around. “Come along men. We have to find this Dove’s cross. Save the Eunuch, save the world.”
They had only managed to walk several yards when Jack spied the familiar shade of red. Bright crimson hair of one of his favorite whores he used to visit. “Scarlett.” He smiled warmly.
“Captain Sparrow,” Scarlett folded her arms. “Haven’t seen you in a while.’
“We have been a bit busy.” He had hoped Scarlet had remembered they had made nice after he had returned from World’s End.
“Jack Sparrow,” Giselle approached him. “I heard you were in town.” Her smile faded. “I also heard you were going to be a father.”
“News spreads fast,” Pintel said.
“Where have you heard that?” Jack blinked.
“Captain Barbossa,” Giselle brushed back a few of her curled locks near her temples, revealing her ears, pointed as Jack’s and the rest of his crew’s.
“What happened to your ears?” Scarlett raised her eyebrows in concern at her friend before she turned to look at Jack and his crew again. “What happened to all of your ears?”
“Barbossa?” Pintel and Ragetti sputtered the name at the same time.
“Tia,” Jack nodded. Barbossa must have visited Tia Dalma shortly after they had left and become a Favorite via her kiss. “How long have ye been a Favorite?”
“Only a few minutes now,” Giselle explained. “He is sleeping right now.”
“Old Hector is still here,” Jack, pressed his fingers. “You must go back to him. He knows about the Turner boy?”
Giselle nodded.
“Tell him to wait for me at the docks. You and Scarlett help him recruit as many Favorite’s as possible.” Jack could not wait to see the expression on Norrington’s face when he returned with a fleet of pirate Favorites.
“Why should I help recruit more pirates?” Scarlett asked. The poor woman was still left out in the dark. “And what are you talking about with Favorites?”
“Is why we have these pointy ears,” Pintel pointed at his head.
“The Turner whelp got himself possessed,” Ragetti added
“Long story short.” Jack raised his index fingers. “We have to save the world. A big nasty took control of a friend and Admiral Norrington of the Royal Navy got blessed and blessed some lasses with his kisses and we have been blessed by them.”
“You didn’t get blessed by a girl,” Ragetti said. “I heard ye kiss the-“ He didn’t get to finish. Cotton had clamped his hand across Ragetti’s mouth.
“We need a bit of a treasure,” Jack continued. “Use it to save Turner, but the whelp is making an army of nasties and Admiral Norrington needs Favorites to battle them.”
“And you are working with him and the Royal Navy?” Scarlett asked
Jack shrugged. “It seems that way.”
“And for me to become a Favorite is for you to kiss me?”
“Yes or anyone who already is a Favorite.”
Scarlett nodded and reached forward, grabbing Gibbs by his collar and pulled him forward. Her lips pressed against his.
“I wonder if I should be insulted.” Jack folded his arms.
“Well that was unexpected,” Gibbs stepped back.
Giselle caught her friend before Scarlett could collapse. “You forgot to warn her about that part.”
“We did, didn’t we?” Jack shrugged and glanced at his compass. “Onward.”
“Going to that old abandoned church?” Giselle asked.
“Seems that way.” Jack said. An abandoned church would be the most fitting place to find a treasure called the Dove’s cross.
-
Jack had heard of the church. St. Anthony’s it was once called. According to the stories, that a few priests had come to Tortuga nearly a century ago to try to clean the place of its sins, but after twenty six years the church had given up and the few members of the clergy who hadn’t given in to temptation had fled. There was one story about a well within the church. After a strong confession the former sinner would toss an item symbolizing his past sin into the well and then one of the priests would dip the bucket and splash the water on the sinner, cleansing him.
St. Anthony’s hadn’t had a visitor in decades. Thick spider web like cracks covered various corners of the stone structure while chunks and pieces littered the grounds, already covered in weeds and other green growth, both moss and ivy choked the structure, with vines and other branches invading the church through the broken windows.
“Do not like the looks of this place,” Gibbs said as they entered. One of the wooden doors had fallen off and both were cracked and splintered from age and weather. “A place like this has to be crawling with ghosts.”
“Ghosts?” Ragetti whimpered.
“There are no ghosts here,” Jack stepped down on the moth eaten strip of cloth in the center of the floor. “If there were they be the spirits of holy men, good ghosts, not vengeful spirits.”
“I could live with good ghosts,” Ragetti nodded, still with a bit of uncertainty in his voice.
“Can’t be scared of ghosts now,” Pintel said. “We have been blessed.”
Jack tried to ignore him as he waded around the church, careful to step over the green that had snaked in from outside. Some of the plant material had blossomed and Jack tried to be careful as not-to step onto the tiny flowers.
There was a well inside and the compass was pointing straight at it. “Cross is in the well.” Jack said and stared down the stone structure, only to have pure darkness back at him. “It does have a bucket.”
“You can’t be serious,” Gibbs said. “This worm eaten rope wont holds ye.”
“Ah but we are not going to use that worm eaten rope.” He pointed to Cotton. “Mr. Cotton, tie the bucket to the top to one end of the rope. The rest of you will lower myself and the bucket and a shovel.”
“A shovel?” Gibbs asked.
Jack grabbed one of the lamps from Pintel and lit it. “Incase it is not quite as wet at the bottom.”
Jack had guessed right. The well had dried up. There was nothing but stone and the cracks. He stared at the compass and at the arrow that was spinning around. “No time to waste.” He set the lamp down and picked up the shovel, wishing the admiral was with him. That was one good thing he could say about Norrington. The man was an excellent digger. He couldn’t dwell on that thought now.
He slammed the sharp edge of the shovel into the thickest crack and forced all of his strength down on top of the handle. He raised it again and slammed down several more times, creating even more cracks until he was able to chip away at a few chucks. More pieces fell down, revealing a bigger hole underneath.
Jack held onto the bucket and stared down. There was an under grown cavern filled with water and right underneath where he was standing was a large rock and in the center was a stone cross.
“More rope,” Jack called up to his crew. “Lower it a bit more.” Jack slipped the shovel back onto his harness and placed the lantern in the bucket before he climbed down, one hand still on the bottom. “Careful.” He shouted before he released his hold on the bottom of the well and clung entirely onto the bucket.
They were both lowered into the cavern. Jack kept his eyes one the rock and the cross, as his feet grew closer. He waited until he was a foot above the rock before he told his crew it was enough and he released his grip. He slipped a bit when he had landed, but he didn’t fall or stumble into the water.
The Cross wasn’t what he had imagined. He had thought it would be beautiful and alabaster white, or even made out of silver, perhaps a jewel in it. The clay cross was big, thick and clunky, not pretty at all. In fact it was shoddily made, with hardened lumps on some parts. What where they going to do with this? Throw it at Will? There was no chain or anything to place it around his neck. That was what they were going to do with it. Still it was a cross and the compass was pointing at it.
Jack used the shovel and his own bit of strength to help remove the cross from the rock. He had formed a good bit of sweat trying to loosen it, but he was able to wiggle it and that meant he could pull it out.
“I am the king of
-
“Step carefully,” James Norrington said once the gangplank was lowered from the Naiad. “Not all of you are sailors and it might be an adjustment for you when you step on land.”
“Thank you for the warning,”
“I know you would be able to,” James nodded. “I am worried about the others.”
“Like Julia?”
“Yes, like her and her father.”
“You should help Julia,”
“Miss Carlisle, you do not mind, if I help you out of the ship?”
Julia Carlisle’s cheeks turned pink before she turned to her father. “Who would help my father?”
“I shall lend him a hand,”
“Miss Carlisle?” James held out his hand.
“Thank you,” Julia accepted it. Her hands were smaller than his; then again he did have rather large hands. Hers were also warm and soft.
“Your father showed me some of your art,” James said as the climbed down to the docks. “I believe there is no limit to what you can draw.”
“He showed you?” She turned back to stare at her father. “He shouldn’t have.”
“Fatherly pride,” James explained. “He was proud of what you can create and he wanted to show it off. I loved your drawing of the ship. It is my personal favorite.” He did not mention the portrait of himself; although he was impressed with how she captured his features he preferred the picture of the ship.
“You have seen the drawing I made of you?”
He nodded. “Yes I have. May I ask why?”
“I have drawn many portraits of important people in
“I would be quite honored,” James felt his own face blush. “It would be a bit hard for me to pick out a ship.”
“Easy,” Captain Theodore Groves walked along the docks with Abigail Peterson clinging to his side. The two of them were staring at each other; neither of them was noticing where they were going.
“I see the two of you had made up your differences,” James said.
“What?” Abigail and Theodore asked at the same time.
“Admiral,” the color drained from Theodore’s face. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Certainly not,” Abigail detached from him and nearly stumbled. “My legs still feel numb.”
“As soon as she stepped out on land she was stumbling worse than Jack Sparrow after a whole keg of rum.”
“I see,” James nodded. His eyes widened when he felt a pair of hands grab onto the end of his tail. Speak of the devil himself. “Sparrow.” He growled out the name.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2007-04-27 07:18 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-28 02:42 am (UTC)From:James should have thrown sand at him, but he was just biding his time.
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Date: 2007-04-28 01:23 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-27 09:14 pm (UTC)From:Julia is such a lovely character...the way you write her is very compelling to reasd-she's not perfect, but shes an interesting character. :)
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Date: 2007-04-28 02:44 am (UTC)From: