"Between the Buried and Me"
Title: Between the Buried and Me
Author: Tseek_Unique
Rating: Part six. NC-17 violence, mental illness, implied rape, supernatural themes.
Summary: Barbossa knows a thing or two about madness. Jack learns the secret of the crown.
Disclaimer: Property of Disney, I own nothing. They own me. *sigh*
Pairings:implied: Jack/James, Will/Jonah.
Author's Notes: A story about pirates behaving badly.
Feedback: cherished as always, my luvs.
Music: Iced Earth- The Coming Curse.
Accursed pirates sail these waters... and so do accursed men. James Norrington collapsed his spyglass as lightning flickered amongst low clouds on the horizon. The seas had grown rough the past hour, and tide and wind were against them. He pleaded with the Black Pearl as she wallowed in the heavy swell: Come on, Pearl, they’ve taken Jack. You must sail for me! James cast a weary eye to the darkness astern, but saw no light. They had been at sea for three hours and still there was no sign of the Black Heart. The Black Pearl was alone in the hunt for Jack and Jonah Sparrow.
James signaled to Gibbs and went to the captain’s cabin below. There, he poured himself a glass of brandy and pulled a quilt about his shoulders, but it seemed that nothing could cut the chill in his bones. And so he dreamt of a jade stone tied in the midst of braids, and dark eyes so cunning, so playful, yet never so beautiful as when they were alight with the fire of love. He fetched Jonah’s drawing of Jack and himself from a drawer and gazed at it. He touched Jack’s image gently.
“Hopelessly in love with you, Jack,” whispered James. “Please hold on for me.”
He opened a drawer, gazed at the small wooden boxes of medicinal powders and let his mind drift back...
James watched helplessly as Jack retched and vomited into a pan held by a nurse. They had been at Doctor Withering’s hospital for nearly a week and Jack seemed only weaker under the care of this renowned physician. Doctor Withering stood by James’ side with his spectacles in hand and studied Jack’s travails with a learned eye. Suddenly, Withering gestured to James and the two left the ward. Across the hall, Withering opened the door to his study and motioned for James to sit.
James sank into the chair and tried to steady his shaking hands. “Is it a hopeless case, doctor?” he asked.
Withering sat across from him. “I consider no case hopeless, Mister Norrington. In fact, we are making progress. Another few doses of the foxglove under my observation and I’ll know precisely what measurement is required. We are close to getting him stabilized. Once I have calculated the exact dose, you must adhere strictly to my instructions or Captain Sparrow will never recover from this dropsy.”
“I shall follow your instructions explicitly.”
“Good! There is a fine line between therapeutic effect and posioning. It is an endless source of aggravation to me that other physicians are not keeping to my calculated doses and are thereby killing their patients.”
There was a pause. James felt the doctor’s eyes on him as he struggled for the words.
“I probably should not ask--but please, I must know.”
James waited anxiously as Withering considered.
“With proper medicines, rest and careful attention to good habits, I should think he will have another two years.”
Two years! Oh, how that phrase tortured James on the journey home to Port Royal. It rang in his ears when the carriage pulled up at the front of the house. It reverberated in his heart as he lifted Jack’s frail body in his arms and carried him into the house. At Jack’s every smile, it squeezed his throat until tears welled in his eyes.
James threw himself into caring for Jack, but his every movement remained haunted by Doctor Withering’s words. Jack’s tetanus waxed and waned as he recovered from the dropsy. James could remember on one occasion a night during which he spent hours applying hot blankets to Jack’s legs, arms and jaw. James hurried to and fro, from the fireplace to the bed throughout the night, so tired but not even feeling it. Then he felt the touch of a small hand on his cheek and looked into eyes so filled with concern, that he was taken aback.
“Jamie, luv. Yer so tired. Can ye not lie down a bit wi’ me?”
And James did lie down and as he crushed Jack’s small form into his strong arms, he willed Jack to live. It it seemed to James that after that night, Jack took a turn for the better. He began to eat more, gain strength and even walk on his own. James’ love had pulled him back from the brink...
James looked down again at the drawing across his lap.
“And I will pull you back again, Jack. I will do all in my power to make you love me more than Will. Just do not give up hope.”
***
Hector Barbossa sat alone in his cabin and stared at the enormous meal on the table before him. There were three platters of fruit, four steaming joints of meat, three bottles of wine and a platter each of cheese, biscuits and pickled eggs. A bowl filled with brown gravy sat at his right elbow and a bowl of green and red apples at his left. He leaned forward and inhaled deeply, hoping to catch the faintest aroma that wafted off the warm food, but he smelled naught a thing. With a sigh, he sank back into his chair and scowled.
There was a knock at the door and Pintel appeared. Barbossa squinted impatiently as Pintel faltered for words. Something shoved him from behind. Pintel sighed and rolled his eyes.
“His Majesty’s privateer, Captain Jonah Sparrow!” announced Pintel with a little flourish of his arm.
Jonah shoved him aside and stepped into the cabin. “That was very good! Now get on out of here while I hold audience with what’s-his-name.”
Barbossa grit his teeth in fury. Pintel fled, leaving Jonah standing by the door. With a careless shove of his bare foot, he kicked the cabin door closed. The eyes that met Barbossa’s were fathomless and cunning. Barbossa knew that to unravel the mystery behind those eyes would be the key to unraveling the man completely.
“Won’t ye be seated, Cap’n Sparrow?” Barbossa asked.
But Jonah’s bright eyes were fixed on the food and without invitation, Jonah grabbed a turkey leg and gnawed upon it. With lightning speed that befit the hands of a pirate, Jonah loaded a plate with cheese, biscuits, fruit and eggs. Barbossa leaned forward and watched his face with intense interest.
Jonah savored the wine and rolled his eyes. “Finally! A man who can truly appreciate my real nature. How nice of you to have dinner prepared for me.”
Barbossa’s hand inched towards his pistol. He clenched his fist and forced it to stop. “And does it suit ye taste, Cap’n Sparrow?”
Jonah waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve had better, but it will do. I am famished.”
“Tis glad I am, that it pleases ye.”
Barbossa studied Jonah carefully as he ate, much like a child would study a bug captured beneath a glass. It was indeed Jack Sparrow’s face with few differences. The beard was braided into a single strand and the stroke of black was stronger beneath the lower eyelid and carried just a tad out beyond the edges of the eye. Barbossa glanced down at a papyrus stolen from Jonah’s home and studied the painting of the eyes. Jonah’s hair was not braided, but fell to his breast in thick and wavy curls that glistened with oil.
And of course, the crown. Not a mere scrap of faded cloth like Jack used to confine his unruly hair, but a rolled band of solid gold with a delicate flower arising from the forehead. The hair was threaded and woven through loops of gold on the inside of the band. Barbossa has seen much gold in his day, but never a piece of such purity as that which Jonah Sparrow wore on his head.
“An’ so ye be Jack’s twin,” Barbossa began. And ne’er have I seen one so fair!
Jonah froze suddenly and wrinkled his nose, then spat a mouthful of food over Barbossa. Barbossa reached delicately for a napkin but his hand itched to grasp his sword. Now I be wonderin’ what he’d look like with a pistol shot through his pretty skull.
“Oh, now you’ve done it!” pouted Jonah. “We were having a perfectly nice conversation until you brought up my silly, old brother. I’m highly displeased.”
“Is that so? And why are ye so adverse t’ conversation about ye brother?”
Jonah considered. “You’re right. I am all aflutter about Jack and I should not be. Poor Jack is so ill now. He suffers terribly from the dropsy.”
Barbossa snapped to attention. “Dropsy?”
“Yes, and after that, he had that bout of tetanus--”
“Tetanus?“
“Oh, Barbossa, the change in him has been just perfectly awful. I know he looks just like me and all, but now, he’s so-” Jonah flailed his hands. “So messy. And most of the time he talks like he’s half out of his mind.”
“Does ‘e now? ‘Tis rumored that ‘twas ye who put ‘im to the sword.”
Jonah smiled playfully, but the eyes were agleam with malice. Jonah took a green apple from the bowl and within a blink of Barbossa’s jaundiced eye, he tossed it into the air, seized his dagger from it’s hiding place and impaled the falling apple upon it. He sat upon the table mere inches from Barbossa and bit into it. Barbossa listened to the luscious crunch, felt sticky juices upon his face and thought just for an instant that he could even smell the sweetness of the fruit. He wanted to seize both the apple and this sensuous creature and devour both of them.
“Must we talk about my messy, old brother? Aren’t there other things you’d rather talk about?” Jonah whispered.
Barbossa watched as the graceful hand, heavy with gold rings, trailed languidly across the top of his hand, then he chuckled and stood up.
“Ye be a such a fey ‘lil thing, Jonah Sparrow, but I wonder what it is ye really think inside that pretty head.”
Jonah crunched the apple with a smirk and murder danced in his eyes. “Many men have tried to get inside my mind.”
“An be there any who came out alive?”
Barbossa seized him in sudden fury and the dagger flashed in the corner of his eye. Tis so typical of livin’ men! Barbossa thought as the dagger plunged to the hilt into his breast and his fingers crunched into living flesh. Jonah snarled in pain. Barbossa surveyed the bared teeth and narrowed eyes with a sense of satisfaction. Yes, it was easy to see the madness in Jonah Sparrow. One merely had to know where to look.
“An’ now, I’ll jus’ be ‘aving that bit o’ gold on yer head. Ye see, I’m not afraid of o’ bit of blood or talk of withcraft, Jonah Sparrow. ‘Tis clarivoyant, ye are. Ye’ve been readin’ me mind throughout our ‘lil conversation.”
“And such poor conversation it was! It will not profit you to kill me and take the crown, for what is its power compared to the mind that wields it? It has a will of its own and it is I, and only I, who knows how to command it!”
Rage flared inside Barbossa. He seized Jonah and shook him hard.
“Ye will teach me how ‘tis done!”
“I will never tell you!”
“Then what say ye t’ this? Jack will die! I’ll have ‘im flogged to death before yer very eyes!”
Jonah spat full in his face. “Then kill him. I care not.”
Barbossa swung his thick arm and caught Jonah full across the cheek. He slammed hard into the side of the cabin and crumpled to the floor. Barbossa took hold of the back of the white shirt, lifted him with one arm and threw him, face first, into the wall.
“Damn you and the crown, Jonah Sparrow. I will ’ave it an’ kill any man that gits in me way.”
He grabbed a handful of the sweet-scented, dark hair and pulled, pressed his hips hard against Jonah’s small frame and pinned him to the wall. He caressed the soft curve of the rounded hip beneath the white breeches. He ignored the crunch of bone as Jonah sank his teeth hard into his wrist.
“I know a thing ‘r two about madness!” he snarled in Jonah’s ear.
Barbossa grinned as cloth yielded to his hands and Jonah began to tremble beneath him...
***
Will Turner knelt down on the deck of the Black Heart and tugged at the coil of rope. They were only an hour out of the Bridgetown harbor. Lanterns moved to and fro on the deck, men shouted and the sound of hammers and saws rang out over the dark sea.
After two hours of frantic repairs, the ship was barely seaworthy, but Will could wait no longer. Every minute wasted in port was a minute lost in this rescue.
Tears filled Will’s eyes as he struggled with the coil of rope. Then suddenly, there came a rush of warm wind upon his face and a soft touch, like lips, to his forehead. Will...
“Jonah!” Will whispered.
“Lightnin‘, sir!” cried Farley.
Will jerked back to the present. “What?”
“There be lightnin’ on the horizon, Cap’n!”
Suddenly, Will understood.
“Change course, Farley! North by northwest!”
“But that’s straight into the storm, sir!”
Will grinned to himself. “And that’s right where he wants us!”
***
At the sound of his brother’s screams, Jack knelt by the cell door and stretched his hand through the one of the holes.
“Leave ’im alone, ye bastard!” cried Jack.
A wet mop slapped Jack’s arm.
“Git back in there!” snarled Pintel.
Ragetti tittered, then when Pintel glared at him, he dropped his gaze and wrung out his mop. Infuriated by his own impotence, Jack hammered the door until his skin tore and bruised. He screamed furious curses until his voice broke and he cried helpless tears. Slumped aginst the door, he tried to clear his mind and connect with Jonah’s. I’m here, Jonah! Try to draw your strength from me! But he sensed no answer.
Eventually the screams faded into sobs, and presently, Jack heard no more. He waited for what seemed an eternity. Barbossa’s killed him. Then the door at the end opened, and when he peered through the cell door, he saw Bosun appear with Jonah in his arms. Pintel hastily unlocked the door and Bosun tossed Jonah in.
Jack caught his brother in his arms and they both fell to the floor. Jonah’s teeth chattered uncontrollably and blood trickled from his cut lips. Jack tore a strip of cloth, dipped it in the water bucket and held it to Jonah’s face. Suddenly, several solid blows from Jonah’s forearms connected with his chest, knocking his breath out. Jack seized the flailing arms.
“Easy lad! Tis me, Jonah. Tis Jack.”
He pulled Jonah into his arms and steadied his head on his shoulder but Jonah continued to fight.
“Don’t touch me!” snarled Jonah.
“I won’t ‘urt ye, luv.”
Jonah’s fist connected hard to Jack’s sore jaw and he succeeded in knocking him free.
“You already have.”
Jonah huddled against the wall and turned his eyes from Jack’s. His chest heaved rapidly beneath his white shirt. Jack was now certain that Jonah had been stripped of his dagger, for he would have used against him by now. Jack inched a little closer and Jonah snarled.
“If ye won’t be held by yer own flesh and blood, then who?”
“Will! Only Will. Will understands me!”
“I know what it’s like Jonah,” Jack said softly. “I remember when I was taken in the pirate raid. I was kept in the captain’s cabin for nine months. Nearly every other night ‘e did it to me.”
“He did no more to me than what those men in the asylum have already done.”
Jack winced.
“Stop worrying about me, you silly fool! It’s you that we have to worry about. Barbossa intends to kill you. He thinks that flogging you will force me to talk.”
“And ye won’t, aye?”
“I can’t let him have this crown, Jack. If he cuts it from my hair, I will die and Barbossa will unleash a curse upon this earth unlike anything ever seen before.”
“Jonah, if I am t’ die for this thing, then I should know that it’s really worth dyin’ for, savvy? Tell me the secret of the crown.”
Jonah glanced warily at the cell door. Jack could hear Pintel and Ragetti putting their buckets and mops away. The brothers wriggled closer together.
“Between two worlds there is a gateway.”
“Two worlds?” asked Jack.
“The living and the dead. When a man dies, the gate opens and he crosses into the other world. Barbossa and his men have never died and so they stay in our world as they have never made the journey. But the gateway swings both ways.”
A chill crept up Jack’s spine. ‘So if th’ gateway swings the other way, th’ dead can come back into this world?”
Jonah nodded. The brothers rested their foreheads together and Jack could feel the hardness of the metal pressing through his headscarf.
“In the other world, there is a vast army: soldiers of old who swore to protect the Lord of the Urrt Crown. If my spirit depart, the gate will open and they will march on this world.”
“And ye learned all this in that tomb ye robbed? Well, then. I supposed we must keep Barbossa from killin’ ye, aye? But, Jonah, that night when I ‘urt me leg on Skep‘s Beach. You came t‘ fetch me on a zebra. Ye wielded the power of the crown on that night. I remember it now.”
“You were dying!” whispered Jonah.
From somewhere in the distance came a rumble of thunder. Jack put his eye to a hole in the hull and squinted. Lightning! At the sound, Jonah hugged his elbows and began to rock back and forth.
Jack seized his shoulders. “Jonah, stop it! Stop, I say! You’ve got to keep your mind clear, lad, for I ‘ave need of it. ‘Tis the lightning that unleashes the power of the crown? Speak!“
Jonah nodded and wrenched away from Jack’s touch.
“An’ will those soldiers march on this world to save ye? Jonah, there’s lightning on the horizon.”
“I have to be closer to it, Jack. I have to be in the heart of the storm. Barbossa is sailing around it.”
Jack peered through the hole again.
“Looks like just three degrees to starboard would bring us right into it.”
Jack pulled his brother’s chin up and gazed into his eyes. “Jonah, do ye remember when we were lads and how at Christmas, granny would come an’ bake cookies for us? Remember, how when she left her rockin’ chair by th’ fire, you would give that chair a little nudge with your mind an’ it would keep movin’?”
“But, Jack, if I nudge this ship off course, they will know it.”
“They might naught, if there is a sufficient diversion. Ye say Barbossa intends t’ flog me. He and ‘is men enjoy such blood sport. When they flog me, ye will ‘ave yer chance.”
Jack took his hand and pressed it to his own breast. Jonah shook his head and jerked his hand away.
“I’m dyin’ already, Jonah. Ye ‘ave foreseen this. You must steer this ship into th’ storm an’ say the words.”
Suddenly, Jack was aware of approaching footsteps and the two ducked down. Barbossa’s face appeared at the door. He threw the keys to Pintel.
“Bring ‘im”
Hit Counter
Author: Tseek_Unique
Rating: Part six. NC-17 violence, mental illness, implied rape, supernatural themes.
Summary: Barbossa knows a thing or two about madness. Jack learns the secret of the crown.
Disclaimer: Property of Disney, I own nothing. They own me. *sigh*
Pairings:implied: Jack/James, Will/Jonah.
Author's Notes: A story about pirates behaving badly.
Feedback: cherished as always, my luvs.
Music: Iced Earth- The Coming Curse.
Accursed pirates sail these waters... and so do accursed men. James Norrington collapsed his spyglass as lightning flickered amongst low clouds on the horizon. The seas had grown rough the past hour, and tide and wind were against them. He pleaded with the Black Pearl as she wallowed in the heavy swell: Come on, Pearl, they’ve taken Jack. You must sail for me! James cast a weary eye to the darkness astern, but saw no light. They had been at sea for three hours and still there was no sign of the Black Heart. The Black Pearl was alone in the hunt for Jack and Jonah Sparrow.
James signaled to Gibbs and went to the captain’s cabin below. There, he poured himself a glass of brandy and pulled a quilt about his shoulders, but it seemed that nothing could cut the chill in his bones. And so he dreamt of a jade stone tied in the midst of braids, and dark eyes so cunning, so playful, yet never so beautiful as when they were alight with the fire of love. He fetched Jonah’s drawing of Jack and himself from a drawer and gazed at it. He touched Jack’s image gently.
“Hopelessly in love with you, Jack,” whispered James. “Please hold on for me.”
He opened a drawer, gazed at the small wooden boxes of medicinal powders and let his mind drift back...
James watched helplessly as Jack retched and vomited into a pan held by a nurse. They had been at Doctor Withering’s hospital for nearly a week and Jack seemed only weaker under the care of this renowned physician. Doctor Withering stood by James’ side with his spectacles in hand and studied Jack’s travails with a learned eye. Suddenly, Withering gestured to James and the two left the ward. Across the hall, Withering opened the door to his study and motioned for James to sit.
James sank into the chair and tried to steady his shaking hands. “Is it a hopeless case, doctor?” he asked.
Withering sat across from him. “I consider no case hopeless, Mister Norrington. In fact, we are making progress. Another few doses of the foxglove under my observation and I’ll know precisely what measurement is required. We are close to getting him stabilized. Once I have calculated the exact dose, you must adhere strictly to my instructions or Captain Sparrow will never recover from this dropsy.”
“I shall follow your instructions explicitly.”
“Good! There is a fine line between therapeutic effect and posioning. It is an endless source of aggravation to me that other physicians are not keeping to my calculated doses and are thereby killing their patients.”
There was a pause. James felt the doctor’s eyes on him as he struggled for the words.
“I probably should not ask--but please, I must know.”
James waited anxiously as Withering considered.
“With proper medicines, rest and careful attention to good habits, I should think he will have another two years.”
Two years! Oh, how that phrase tortured James on the journey home to Port Royal. It rang in his ears when the carriage pulled up at the front of the house. It reverberated in his heart as he lifted Jack’s frail body in his arms and carried him into the house. At Jack’s every smile, it squeezed his throat until tears welled in his eyes.
James threw himself into caring for Jack, but his every movement remained haunted by Doctor Withering’s words. Jack’s tetanus waxed and waned as he recovered from the dropsy. James could remember on one occasion a night during which he spent hours applying hot blankets to Jack’s legs, arms and jaw. James hurried to and fro, from the fireplace to the bed throughout the night, so tired but not even feeling it. Then he felt the touch of a small hand on his cheek and looked into eyes so filled with concern, that he was taken aback.
“Jamie, luv. Yer so tired. Can ye not lie down a bit wi’ me?”
And James did lie down and as he crushed Jack’s small form into his strong arms, he willed Jack to live. It it seemed to James that after that night, Jack took a turn for the better. He began to eat more, gain strength and even walk on his own. James’ love had pulled him back from the brink...
James looked down again at the drawing across his lap.
“And I will pull you back again, Jack. I will do all in my power to make you love me more than Will. Just do not give up hope.”
***
Hector Barbossa sat alone in his cabin and stared at the enormous meal on the table before him. There were three platters of fruit, four steaming joints of meat, three bottles of wine and a platter each of cheese, biscuits and pickled eggs. A bowl filled with brown gravy sat at his right elbow and a bowl of green and red apples at his left. He leaned forward and inhaled deeply, hoping to catch the faintest aroma that wafted off the warm food, but he smelled naught a thing. With a sigh, he sank back into his chair and scowled.
There was a knock at the door and Pintel appeared. Barbossa squinted impatiently as Pintel faltered for words. Something shoved him from behind. Pintel sighed and rolled his eyes.
“His Majesty’s privateer, Captain Jonah Sparrow!” announced Pintel with a little flourish of his arm.
Jonah shoved him aside and stepped into the cabin. “That was very good! Now get on out of here while I hold audience with what’s-his-name.”
Barbossa grit his teeth in fury. Pintel fled, leaving Jonah standing by the door. With a careless shove of his bare foot, he kicked the cabin door closed. The eyes that met Barbossa’s were fathomless and cunning. Barbossa knew that to unravel the mystery behind those eyes would be the key to unraveling the man completely.
“Won’t ye be seated, Cap’n Sparrow?” Barbossa asked.
But Jonah’s bright eyes were fixed on the food and without invitation, Jonah grabbed a turkey leg and gnawed upon it. With lightning speed that befit the hands of a pirate, Jonah loaded a plate with cheese, biscuits, fruit and eggs. Barbossa leaned forward and watched his face with intense interest.
Jonah savored the wine and rolled his eyes. “Finally! A man who can truly appreciate my real nature. How nice of you to have dinner prepared for me.”
Barbossa’s hand inched towards his pistol. He clenched his fist and forced it to stop. “And does it suit ye taste, Cap’n Sparrow?”
Jonah waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve had better, but it will do. I am famished.”
“Tis glad I am, that it pleases ye.”
Barbossa studied Jonah carefully as he ate, much like a child would study a bug captured beneath a glass. It was indeed Jack Sparrow’s face with few differences. The beard was braided into a single strand and the stroke of black was stronger beneath the lower eyelid and carried just a tad out beyond the edges of the eye. Barbossa glanced down at a papyrus stolen from Jonah’s home and studied the painting of the eyes. Jonah’s hair was not braided, but fell to his breast in thick and wavy curls that glistened with oil.
And of course, the crown. Not a mere scrap of faded cloth like Jack used to confine his unruly hair, but a rolled band of solid gold with a delicate flower arising from the forehead. The hair was threaded and woven through loops of gold on the inside of the band. Barbossa has seen much gold in his day, but never a piece of such purity as that which Jonah Sparrow wore on his head.
“An’ so ye be Jack’s twin,” Barbossa began. And ne’er have I seen one so fair!
Jonah froze suddenly and wrinkled his nose, then spat a mouthful of food over Barbossa. Barbossa reached delicately for a napkin but his hand itched to grasp his sword. Now I be wonderin’ what he’d look like with a pistol shot through his pretty skull.
“Oh, now you’ve done it!” pouted Jonah. “We were having a perfectly nice conversation until you brought up my silly, old brother. I’m highly displeased.”
“Is that so? And why are ye so adverse t’ conversation about ye brother?”
Jonah considered. “You’re right. I am all aflutter about Jack and I should not be. Poor Jack is so ill now. He suffers terribly from the dropsy.”
Barbossa snapped to attention. “Dropsy?”
“Yes, and after that, he had that bout of tetanus--”
“Tetanus?“
“Oh, Barbossa, the change in him has been just perfectly awful. I know he looks just like me and all, but now, he’s so-” Jonah flailed his hands. “So messy. And most of the time he talks like he’s half out of his mind.”
“Does ‘e now? ‘Tis rumored that ‘twas ye who put ‘im to the sword.”
Jonah smiled playfully, but the eyes were agleam with malice. Jonah took a green apple from the bowl and within a blink of Barbossa’s jaundiced eye, he tossed it into the air, seized his dagger from it’s hiding place and impaled the falling apple upon it. He sat upon the table mere inches from Barbossa and bit into it. Barbossa listened to the luscious crunch, felt sticky juices upon his face and thought just for an instant that he could even smell the sweetness of the fruit. He wanted to seize both the apple and this sensuous creature and devour both of them.
“Must we talk about my messy, old brother? Aren’t there other things you’d rather talk about?” Jonah whispered.
Barbossa watched as the graceful hand, heavy with gold rings, trailed languidly across the top of his hand, then he chuckled and stood up.
“Ye be a such a fey ‘lil thing, Jonah Sparrow, but I wonder what it is ye really think inside that pretty head.”
Jonah crunched the apple with a smirk and murder danced in his eyes. “Many men have tried to get inside my mind.”
“An be there any who came out alive?”
Barbossa seized him in sudden fury and the dagger flashed in the corner of his eye. Tis so typical of livin’ men! Barbossa thought as the dagger plunged to the hilt into his breast and his fingers crunched into living flesh. Jonah snarled in pain. Barbossa surveyed the bared teeth and narrowed eyes with a sense of satisfaction. Yes, it was easy to see the madness in Jonah Sparrow. One merely had to know where to look.
“An’ now, I’ll jus’ be ‘aving that bit o’ gold on yer head. Ye see, I’m not afraid of o’ bit of blood or talk of withcraft, Jonah Sparrow. ‘Tis clarivoyant, ye are. Ye’ve been readin’ me mind throughout our ‘lil conversation.”
“And such poor conversation it was! It will not profit you to kill me and take the crown, for what is its power compared to the mind that wields it? It has a will of its own and it is I, and only I, who knows how to command it!”
Rage flared inside Barbossa. He seized Jonah and shook him hard.
“Ye will teach me how ‘tis done!”
“I will never tell you!”
“Then what say ye t’ this? Jack will die! I’ll have ‘im flogged to death before yer very eyes!”
Jonah spat full in his face. “Then kill him. I care not.”
Barbossa swung his thick arm and caught Jonah full across the cheek. He slammed hard into the side of the cabin and crumpled to the floor. Barbossa took hold of the back of the white shirt, lifted him with one arm and threw him, face first, into the wall.
“Damn you and the crown, Jonah Sparrow. I will ’ave it an’ kill any man that gits in me way.”
He grabbed a handful of the sweet-scented, dark hair and pulled, pressed his hips hard against Jonah’s small frame and pinned him to the wall. He caressed the soft curve of the rounded hip beneath the white breeches. He ignored the crunch of bone as Jonah sank his teeth hard into his wrist.
“I know a thing ‘r two about madness!” he snarled in Jonah’s ear.
Barbossa grinned as cloth yielded to his hands and Jonah began to tremble beneath him...
***
Will Turner knelt down on the deck of the Black Heart and tugged at the coil of rope. They were only an hour out of the Bridgetown harbor. Lanterns moved to and fro on the deck, men shouted and the sound of hammers and saws rang out over the dark sea.
After two hours of frantic repairs, the ship was barely seaworthy, but Will could wait no longer. Every minute wasted in port was a minute lost in this rescue.
Tears filled Will’s eyes as he struggled with the coil of rope. Then suddenly, there came a rush of warm wind upon his face and a soft touch, like lips, to his forehead. Will...
“Jonah!” Will whispered.
“Lightnin‘, sir!” cried Farley.
Will jerked back to the present. “What?”
“There be lightnin’ on the horizon, Cap’n!”
Suddenly, Will understood.
“Change course, Farley! North by northwest!”
“But that’s straight into the storm, sir!”
Will grinned to himself. “And that’s right where he wants us!”
***
At the sound of his brother’s screams, Jack knelt by the cell door and stretched his hand through the one of the holes.
“Leave ’im alone, ye bastard!” cried Jack.
A wet mop slapped Jack’s arm.
“Git back in there!” snarled Pintel.
Ragetti tittered, then when Pintel glared at him, he dropped his gaze and wrung out his mop. Infuriated by his own impotence, Jack hammered the door until his skin tore and bruised. He screamed furious curses until his voice broke and he cried helpless tears. Slumped aginst the door, he tried to clear his mind and connect with Jonah’s. I’m here, Jonah! Try to draw your strength from me! But he sensed no answer.
Eventually the screams faded into sobs, and presently, Jack heard no more. He waited for what seemed an eternity. Barbossa’s killed him. Then the door at the end opened, and when he peered through the cell door, he saw Bosun appear with Jonah in his arms. Pintel hastily unlocked the door and Bosun tossed Jonah in.
Jack caught his brother in his arms and they both fell to the floor. Jonah’s teeth chattered uncontrollably and blood trickled from his cut lips. Jack tore a strip of cloth, dipped it in the water bucket and held it to Jonah’s face. Suddenly, several solid blows from Jonah’s forearms connected with his chest, knocking his breath out. Jack seized the flailing arms.
“Easy lad! Tis me, Jonah. Tis Jack.”
He pulled Jonah into his arms and steadied his head on his shoulder but Jonah continued to fight.
“Don’t touch me!” snarled Jonah.
“I won’t ‘urt ye, luv.”
Jonah’s fist connected hard to Jack’s sore jaw and he succeeded in knocking him free.
“You already have.”
Jonah huddled against the wall and turned his eyes from Jack’s. His chest heaved rapidly beneath his white shirt. Jack was now certain that Jonah had been stripped of his dagger, for he would have used against him by now. Jack inched a little closer and Jonah snarled.
“If ye won’t be held by yer own flesh and blood, then who?”
“Will! Only Will. Will understands me!”
“I know what it’s like Jonah,” Jack said softly. “I remember when I was taken in the pirate raid. I was kept in the captain’s cabin for nine months. Nearly every other night ‘e did it to me.”
“He did no more to me than what those men in the asylum have already done.”
Jack winced.
“Stop worrying about me, you silly fool! It’s you that we have to worry about. Barbossa intends to kill you. He thinks that flogging you will force me to talk.”
“And ye won’t, aye?”
“I can’t let him have this crown, Jack. If he cuts it from my hair, I will die and Barbossa will unleash a curse upon this earth unlike anything ever seen before.”
“Jonah, if I am t’ die for this thing, then I should know that it’s really worth dyin’ for, savvy? Tell me the secret of the crown.”
Jonah glanced warily at the cell door. Jack could hear Pintel and Ragetti putting their buckets and mops away. The brothers wriggled closer together.
“Between two worlds there is a gateway.”
“Two worlds?” asked Jack.
“The living and the dead. When a man dies, the gate opens and he crosses into the other world. Barbossa and his men have never died and so they stay in our world as they have never made the journey. But the gateway swings both ways.”
A chill crept up Jack’s spine. ‘So if th’ gateway swings the other way, th’ dead can come back into this world?”
Jonah nodded. The brothers rested their foreheads together and Jack could feel the hardness of the metal pressing through his headscarf.
“In the other world, there is a vast army: soldiers of old who swore to protect the Lord of the Urrt Crown. If my spirit depart, the gate will open and they will march on this world.”
“And ye learned all this in that tomb ye robbed? Well, then. I supposed we must keep Barbossa from killin’ ye, aye? But, Jonah, that night when I ‘urt me leg on Skep‘s Beach. You came t‘ fetch me on a zebra. Ye wielded the power of the crown on that night. I remember it now.”
“You were dying!” whispered Jonah.
From somewhere in the distance came a rumble of thunder. Jack put his eye to a hole in the hull and squinted. Lightning! At the sound, Jonah hugged his elbows and began to rock back and forth.
Jack seized his shoulders. “Jonah, stop it! Stop, I say! You’ve got to keep your mind clear, lad, for I ‘ave need of it. ‘Tis the lightning that unleashes the power of the crown? Speak!“
Jonah nodded and wrenched away from Jack’s touch.
“An’ will those soldiers march on this world to save ye? Jonah, there’s lightning on the horizon.”
“I have to be closer to it, Jack. I have to be in the heart of the storm. Barbossa is sailing around it.”
Jack peered through the hole again.
“Looks like just three degrees to starboard would bring us right into it.”
Jack pulled his brother’s chin up and gazed into his eyes. “Jonah, do ye remember when we were lads and how at Christmas, granny would come an’ bake cookies for us? Remember, how when she left her rockin’ chair by th’ fire, you would give that chair a little nudge with your mind an’ it would keep movin’?”
“But, Jack, if I nudge this ship off course, they will know it.”
“They might naught, if there is a sufficient diversion. Ye say Barbossa intends t’ flog me. He and ‘is men enjoy such blood sport. When they flog me, ye will ‘ave yer chance.”
Jack took his hand and pressed it to his own breast. Jonah shook his head and jerked his hand away.
“I’m dyin’ already, Jonah. Ye ‘ave foreseen this. You must steer this ship into th’ storm an’ say the words.”
Suddenly, Jack was aware of approaching footsteps and the two ducked down. Barbossa’s face appeared at the door. He threw the keys to Pintel.
“Bring ‘im”
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