Black
Pearl Tales
is the official archive of
Black Pearl Sails
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Pirates of the Caribbean
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Disney Corporation.
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a Turnabout by Hereswith |
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The
tale thus far... |
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Part One ”’No worries’, you said,” Elizabeth muttered. They weren’t running anymore, merely walking with haste, but she was winded and had the beginnings of a stitch in her side. “’Back on the Pearl before dusk’.” “Now, to be fair, love,” Jack interjected, “I didn’t know Lynch’d be there. He and Obadiah haven’t exactly been on the friendliest of terms, in the past.” She glanced at him, recalling the harsh exchange of words that she had overheard, just prior to their precipitate flight. “Is it true you killed his brother?” “Aye.” He grimaced. “Some years since, in an honest enough fight, as it were, though Lynch would never own to it.” His expression was uncommonly severe, a telltale sign that the situation was dire, indeed, and Elizabeth frowned. “Who is he?” Jack was silent at first, then said, “Pirate. But not a good man.” He indicated her attire: the coat, the breeches and the hat. “You’d be worth more to him alive, should he discover you’re not—what you seem.“ “Oh.” A chill of fright went down her spine as the full implication of his words sank in. “But—“ “That’s him! Pearce, get yerself over here, now!” Jack cursed, taking hold of her arm and propelling her forward. “Go!” There were two of them, as far as she could make out from a brief look back: an older, balding man, who had already given chase, and his dark-haired comrade, Pearce, trailing slightly behind. Lynch wasn’t with them, so the crewmembers must have split up to widen the search; she had only glimpsed him once, through the crack of a half-closed door, but she would have recognised him by the crooked scar on his cheek. They dashed across a nearly deserted market square, with Elizabeth in the lead, then, at Jack’s urging, past a butcher’s stall and down a narrow, dirty street, where the gutters were clogged with filth. The pirates were hard on their heels, she could hear them shouting and she lengthened her strides, dreading the whine of a stray bullet. After a long straight stretch the street veered to the left and Elizabeth took the corner too sharply, almost tripping over the dead cat that lay directly in her path. She stumbled, losing her balance, and fell to her knees, crying out in pain. Jack skidded to a halt, turning towards her, and their pursuers caught up with them in that instant. While the older one set upon Jack, Pearce roughly grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders and pulled her up. She resisted, hitting him where she could and kicking out, and he could not maintain his grasp; she stomped on his foot, wrested free and swirled on him, drawing her sword. “Think ye can stand against me, boy?” Pearce scorned. He was taller than she was, but not by much, and fairly skinny, his nose beaked above a drooping moustache. “Let’s see ye try, then!” He lunged at her, brandishing his own blade. She was quick and light and Will had taught her much, as had Jack. She had learned how to fence so that she made the most of her strengths, always keeping her opponent on edge. It was not quite so uneven a match as Pearce had obviously expected, and when Elizabeth managed to slide her sword under his guard, cutting him so that blood was spilt, he let out a stream of foul expletives and his smirk changed to an ugly snarl. They circled each other, feinting, and though she spotted Jack further off, engaged in a fierce struggle, she could not afford to let her attention waver. She parried and thrust again, beads of sweat trickling down her temple. Pearce countered, nicking her arm in the process and she flinched, dodging as he charged anew. Her muscles started to protest, straining against the force of his blows, but anger made him clumsy and Elizabeth, finding another opening, struck. The pirate twisted, but could not evade the stroke that gashed his leg. Growling in fury, he moved in on her fast, before she could retreat, dropped his sword and whipped out a knife. Elizabeth stilled, completely, as cold metal was pressed against her throat. “I’ll slit ye from ear to ear,” Pearce threatened, his breath hot and fetid. “Bleed ye out like a pig.” “Wouldn’t do that if I was you, mate. Let the lad go.” Relief coursed through her, and though she could not turn her head and look at Jack, she could guess at what occurred, there was no mistaking the click of a pistol being cocked. “Sparrow!” Pearce spat, with considerable venom. “Captain Sparrow,” Jack chided. “And I'd recommend you not do anything foolish. Let him go.” Pearce shifted his grip on the knife and Elizabeth whispered a prayer, her insides clenching in sheer panic. But he lowered the weapon instead, as if he meant to comply, then, all of a sudden, shoved her out of the way and went for Jack. A shot rang out and Pearce slumped heavily to the ground. Elizabeth staggered, and supported herself against the nearest wall, the smell of gunpowder masking the stench of rot and death. She raised her fingers to her throat and they came away trembling and stained with red, a few drops, nothing more, the wound was slight, but she bent forward, feeling dizzy. After a moment, Jack’s boots entered her field of vision, and his hand touched her back. “All right?” “Yes.” She straightened gingerly, sheathed her sword and ensured that her hat was securely on, averting her eyes from Pearce’s corpse. “You did well,” he said, and his smile was a glimmer of warmth, for which she was infinitely grateful. “I could have done better. He surprised me.” Elizabeth bit her lip, remembering. “Thank you.” Jack put his right palm to his chest and gave a small bow. “My pleasure, darling.” A huff of laughter escaped her, at that, but it soon faded. Voices wafted through the night air, a sobering reminder that their predicament had yet to be resolved. “Come!” said Jack, and she followed him as he headed down the street, past the sprawling body of the second, now forever nameless, man. They stayed close to the houses, and the shadows that had not been scattered by lanterns, or by the moon, shining high above. There were people about, but not so many that they could easily slip into a crowd and disappear. And Jack Sparrow, Captain Jack Sparrow, was not so nondescript that his passage went unremarked. When Elizabeth told Jack of her concerns, he chuckled, “Are you saying I’m too conspicuous, love?” “Well,” she began. “Yes. They know you, Jack, Lynch knows you. And the Pearl—the cove’s on the other side of the town.” “True,” he said, then stopped, so abruptly that she bumped into him. “Ah!” Elizabeth thought the worst, until she realised that he was gazing at a bustling tavern, up ahead. “Jack?” she asked, warily, as he began walking in that very direction. “What are you intending to do?” “Find a woman,” he said. She blinked, confused. “Are you jesting?” “On so serious a matter? Never.” He grinned at her, all effulgence, all innocence, and it did not reassure her one whit.
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