Twilight

Chapter 2: A Fine Mess…

Several days had passed since Jack was captured by Norrington, and he and his crew taken into custody. It was a cloudy day, and riding upon the waves was a great, old looking ship. The wood was worn grey from many voyages at see, as was the captain of this particular vessel. At the helm was Captain Hector Barbossa, a stern and concentrated look on his face. Next to him was one of his crewmen, a ratty looking fellow that looked not much younger than Barbossa himself. “Cap’n, where are we headed?” he inquired, giving Barbossa an unsure glance. Barbossa chuckled shallowly, not taking his eyes of the sea before him. “To find me ship, o’ course. I’ll not rest til I have the Pearl again, and ye well know it.” He replied, finally looking over to the weary crewman. “Ye be wantin’ to do something else, you’re plenty welcome to swim.” He said, a sly smile on his face. He had wild eyes, wild with many tiring nights of search for the Black Pearl, and the captain therein. “Besides; I’ve a favor to pay back to Jack. I don’t go back on favors, but after that, I’ll be takin’ me ship back, and leavin’ him back on the God-forsaken island.” The crewman shook his head. “Nay, Cap’n. I’ll stay with you til the end, I will.” He said. Barbossa chuckles. “Yer a loyal man, I respect that. Not many of ‘em left, I’m afraid. Not many with any real honor or code. Just actin’ of ‘is own accord. Loathsome wretches…” he cursed.
Within moments, another crewman called to Barbossa from the deck. “Cap’n! There be a shark circlin’ the ship! It looks like yers.” He yelled. Barbossa quirked a brow. “Eh? My shark? Since when did I have a shark?” he asked, directing the crewman next to him to keep the ship on course as he himself headed to the deck. When he arrived, the crewman who had called to him held up an empty rum bottle, stuffed with a piece of paper. Eyeing it curiously, Barbossa takes it from the man for further inspection. “What be this?” he asked aloud, uncorking the bottle with a look of annoyance. “Idiot put it in the wrong way…” he mumbles, the wad of paper stuck tight in the neck of the bottle. He lifted the bottle up and smashed it against the mast of the ship, shatter the body of the bottle and then yanked the message from its place. He quickly un-crumpled the note, reading it. “…it’s from the Pearl. Jack and ‘is crew are in Tortuga, and they’ve been captured by…No..Nortin…hell, who wrote this rubbish?” he grumbled, straining to read the scribbled text. “Nor-ring-ton…aye, him. Looks like they want us to help…” Barbossa mused, stroking his beard. The crewman looked to him apprehensively. “What are yer orders, Cap’n?” he asked. Barbossa sighed, looking over the message once more. “Tortuga…that’s about a day’s journey from here…well, it’s time for me to return the favor.” He says, crumbling the letter and depositing it into his pocket. He called out to the crewman at the wheel. “Set new course for Tortuga, ye slobs! We’ve bus’ness to attend to!” he called. “Aye aye, Cap’n.” the man called back, turning the boat hard starboard. The crewman who had fetched the note looked to Barbossa again, a new look of excitement in his eyes. “What do ye suppose is waitin’ in Tortuga?”
“The Pearl, o’ course. That an’ if all else fails, a fight.” Barbossa replied, pulling out a spyglass and extending it, looking to their new heading. “Nothin’ in sight yet…save an old freighter. Its sails are pitched…it ain’t goin nowhere either.” He says, retracting the spyglass and putting it too in his pocket.
“Cap’n…if ye don’t mind me askin…what do you owe Cap’n…er…Jack for?” the crewman asked.
“Aye…I’d rather not say much. I just…owe ‘im for some services.”
“Services?”
“I said I’d rather not say, nosy whelp.”
“Sorry, Cap’n.”
“Aye, ye be sorry when I stick you on that island too.” He said, heading into his quarters, locking the door behind him. It was a fairly large room, a table in the middle of the room, ready to host a wide assortment of food come meal time. There was a desk, as well as a few spare cannons. On the walls were a few choice portraits, one of which a picture of a younger looking Jack. He went over to it, gazing up to it with tired eyes. “What a fine mess…all for one lil night in Portugal. Can’t hardly believe I was that foolish…” he said, speaking to the portrait as if it were the actual man. “What do I have to do to shut you up, Jack? Save yer neck from the gallows? Aye, you’ll be better off when I put you back on the island. At least then I know yer death will be to nature, me, or yerself.” Barbossa’s hand came to his face, rubbing his forehead. All this was making his head ache. There was a door in the left-hand corner of the room, which lead to Barbossa’s room, exactly where he was headed. Upon reaching the door, he placed his hand on the polished silver knob, turning his head and looking back to the portrait. “Yer a right fine fool, Jack. Can’t stand on yer own two feet without trippin’. Ye be a real pain in me ass.” He said with a chuckle, opening the door and heading into his room.
The room was simple, nothing opulently fancy about it. It had some of Barbossa’s prized possession, and some choice artifacts from past raids, even a small chest filled with gold sitting nice and cozy in the corner. He laid down upon a decent bed, a four-poster bed with a rugged, old looking mattress and a comfy blanket. He lay directly on the blanket, not bothering to get under the covers, and threw his hat up upon one of the posts by the headboard. He had some much on his mind, but despite all this, he soon found himself washed away in the slow, steady waves of sleep.

The next night they reached the port of Tortuga, the lanterns already lit and the cacophonous sounds of the drunken masses reaching far out into the sea. Barbossa’s ship pulls slowly into port, Barbossa casting a knowing gaze across the water. “She’s ‘round here somewhere…there.” He said, pointing across the port and over to what he had been looking for. The Black Pearl, still docked where Jack had left it. It looked abandoned, making it evident that Jack had been telling the truth about his capture. “Put ‘er down here. Don’t want her too close to the Pearl.” He commanded, he crewmen moving to drop the anchor and fasten them to the docks. Once everything was tied down and the gangplank set, Barbossa and a handful of his crew disembarked, heading for a nearby pub for some information.
It was definitely a seedy, filthy place. A pirate would find it semi-comfortable; a proper gentleman would vomit at the sight. It stunk of stale rum and other ungodly fluids, but that didn’t seem to stall the pirates who haunted this place, nor have any effect on the whatsoever as they merely added to the stench. One particular pirate had apparently soiled himself as he lay sprawled upon the floor in a drunken stupor, drooling over himself as he lay in his alcohol induced coma. Barbossa gave him a little kick as he passed. “Ye alive, lad?” he chuckled, the man not responding in the least. “Aye, may well be dead.” Barbossa said calmly, not really caring. He continued on, asking around to see if anyone had seen Jack. To his dismay, it appears Jack had not been here…but he did find someone who caught his eye…or as the case may be, Barbossa caught his.
A round, wooden object had come whizzing past Barbossa’s head. He deftly reached upon and caught it, eyeing the object closely. It was an eye. “Ragetti…” Barbossa mumbles, looking around for a moment. Sure enough, a man came stumbling in Barbossa’s direction, a hand held over the socket his eye should be in. “M-me eye! Sorry, sirs…just hav’n a lil…wait a minute.” The man squinted, trying to focus in on Barbossa’s face. “C-Cap’n Barbossa!” he said, a bright twinkle coming to his…eye. Barbossa laughs. “Aye, that be me. Ye called for me, right lad?” he says, handing Ragetti back his eye. He accepted it gratefully, jamming it back into it’s socket.
“Now tell me lad…ye be free, but I can’t find Jack or anyone else. Where are they?” Barbossa asked, folding his arms and looking sternly to Ragetti.
“Oh, right. Cap’n told me to escape and go somewhere you would see, that way I could lead ye to wherever he was when ye arrived.”
“So, he assumed I’d come anyway?”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Heh…played my like a harp, he did. Well then, where is he, lad?”
Ragetti scratched his head. “Hm…let’s see…yeah, they’ve got ‘im and the crew aboard their ship. There pullin’ out at sun up.”
“That gives use about seven hours, plenty o’ time. Lead they way, boy.” Barbossa said. Ragetti nods, stagger out of the pub and into the streets, looking around and pointing to the docks. “Right there, on the left.” He said, pointing to a fancy looking vessel, by far the most opulent and exquisite of the ships docked. “Hell damn, no hidin’ with that tub, now is there?” Barbossa said with a mix of awe and amusement. A frown then crossed his aged lips, an intense look gleaming in his eyes. “It’s too easy. Why would they wait here for so long and give ‘im so long a chance to escape…there be treachery awaitin’.” He said, looking to Ragetti. “Ye best not be settin’ me up, lad, or I’ll gut ye here an’ now.” Barbossa threatened, tapping a hand to his saber. Ragetti shock his head, so hard in fact that his eye nearly came out again. “O’ course not! I-I’m just a messenger!” he stammered timidly. Barbossa sighed, he and the others heading in the direction of the ship, towards uncertain danger.
They quickly reached the gangplank of the other ship, looking up at the deck. “No one’s aboard…no one to catch us…it still be too easy.” Barbossa said, drawing his pistol and walking cautiously up onto the ships deck, followed closely by Ragetti and the others. They now stood upon the deck, not a soul in sight. Barbossa turned to look around, Ragetti drawing his pistol as well. The other crewmen drew saber, but all were on edge. A single bead of sweat rang down Barbossa’s brow, hanging from the tip of his nose. There it linger until a shot rang out, skimming the tip of Barbossa’s nose and vaporizing the sweat immediately. He leapt back, taking aim at the direction of the blast and unloading a couple rounds, pelting the doorframe of the Captain’s Quarters. There stood a figure, long rifle trained in on Barbossa and the crew. Above them, in the sails, where another troop of men likewise armed. Another battalion pour out from inside the ship, followed up by Norrington. Barbossa chuckles. “I told ye somethin’ was rotten…” he said, pointing his pistol at Norrington, only to have another 10 rifles targeting him. Seeing the odds so blatently stacked against him, Barbossa dropped his weapon, grumbling obscenities all the while. A smug look returns to Norrington’s face, his arms folded. “Well, my little hunch paid off. I saw your Jack’s crewmate escape, and figured he would lead more pirates to me. But I never expected to infamous Captain Hector Barbossa to come to Jack’s aid. I thought you wanted him dead.” He said, throwing Barbossa a skeptical look. Barbossa shrugged. “Aye, I’m a man of many motives. And ye be a smarter lad than I had thought, capturing me. I was careless.” He said with a toothy grin, looking to his men. “Drop ye weapons. We can’t win like this.” He commanded, and they all apprehensively did as they were told.
Norrington chuckled. “Well then, that was easier than I thought. Did even chance an escape like your partner.”
“He ain’t my partner, he’s a traitor. And I ain’t as foolish as he, lad. Where would I run to?” he said, giving a grand gesture with his arms and looking around. “Ye have me surrounded, and I forgot me wings today.”
Norrington’s expression is one of great amusement. “Lord Beckett will be very pleased when I bring you all in to the gallows when we reach Port Royal. The Pearl was merely bait…she’ll be leaving ahead of us.” He said, then dictated an order to his men. “Take them to the brig. But make sure that the Captain gets to room with his…partner.” He said, a sadistic little grin playing across his face. A heavy sigh left Barbossa’s chest. “Aye…a fine mess indeed…” he muttered, hanging his head in surrender.