White and Black Pearls 3 - Ten Pearl Strand

Chapter Eleven

“Where are they going?” Will blurted, putting the spyglass down and frowning. They were all traveling together, in one boat, to the Black Pearl? Those six, moving as one towards one goal? Impossible. Barbossa didn’t even look like he was conscious. “We have to follow them!” he said desperately.

Even though he’d given the order, Will was still shocked to feel the boat start to move significantly instead of floating dead in the water. He looked around at the men, trying to figure out how they had gotten the Flying Dutchman to start moving, but they all looked just as confused as he was. Will turned to look at the Black Pearl again as she started to move, and realized that their ship was moving after the Pearl.

“Calypso,” he mumbled as it dawned on him who had the ability to move a whole ship without touching it. Something was definitely amiss. And had that been Cutler Beckett he’d seen with them, talking to them? None of this made any sense and he felt like he was dreaming.

“Something foul is happening,” Bootstrap said wearily as he stood beside Will and stared almost longingly at the Black Pearl’s stern.


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“You know mate,” Jack said to the unconscious Barbossa as he slammed the gate to the brig closed with the man inside. “This was hardly the fashion in which I hoped to throw you in here one day.” He stared at Barbossa silently for a few moments before heading deeper into the Pearl in search of rum.

“Since you would be the one to know this ship best aside from our imprisoned friend,” Beckett said snidely when Jack was above deck again, “It’ll be safe for you to assume that you’ll be doing most of the work. Prepare us to sail, Mister Sparrow. Jones, you do the same.” He turned to the women then. “You two…” He waved a hand. “I don’t really care what you do as long as you behave yourselves.”

“Our deal!” Calypso belted out, stepping towards Beckett. “You have the waters and the skies; you have Jack Sparrow and Barbossa! Release Davy Jones!”

Cutler Beckett paused then, and smiled at Calypso. “Sorry,” he said in a tone that was not sorry in the least, “I don’t keep deals with pirates and those that associate with them. They have this bad habit of trying to get out of their obligations.”

“You!” She screamed, lunging at him.

“Ah ah,” Beckett cooed. She didn’t reach him; Davy Jones grabbed Calypso about the waist, holding her in place and away from Beckett. He smirked at her and shook his head. “Temper temper. If I have to keep using Jones to restrain you, he’ll use up all his strength and wither away faster.”

Calypso fell still and watched Beckett walk along the deck towards the bowsprit. When he disappeared out of View, she turned to look at Davy, still in his arms. Lifting her hands, she cupped his cheeks, not caring that one of her hands was filled with the vile moss and her other touched slick skin. She tried to use her powers to return him to human form, but they did no good; the moss kept him frozen in his current form. “David,” she whispered, staring up into his eyes.

“Calypso,” Davy breathed, the tentacle from his hand slipping up her back and the tip brushing a lock of hair out of her face. “Why? You should not have given him power over you, now you’re trapped just the same.”

“I would rather be trapped here with you than rule a hundred thousand worlds with millions of oceans,” she said softly. “You be a painful man to love Davy Jones.”

The two kissed gently under the red moonlight, reunited at last.

Celeste sat at the base of the Black Pearl’s bowsprit silently, staring off into the distance. Jack was below deck again, avoiding her, and she didn’t particularly have the strength to look at him right now either.

“You cast your lot with the wrong man,” Beckett said quietly from behind her. She did not turn around to face or acknowledge him, continuing to stare out ahead of the boat. “But it’s too late to go back now and something tells me that even if I offered you the chance to go free after tonight, you would not take it.” He stepped a little closer to her then, and slipped his hands onto her shoulders, leaning in and turning his head so that his lips were brushing against her ear as he whispered into it. “What if I offered you instead a chance for Jack Sparrow to go free? What would you do for that, fair Celestiana?” He kissed her throat then as his hands smoothed forward from her shoulders towards his chest.

She shivered, and turned then, staring at him with her eerie red eyes. “There is no freedom left for him,” she replied. “His heart cannot settle firmly enough for him to ever marry any woman, and nor can yours be kind enough to sacrifice yourself for his freedom. You have sealed his fate alongside those of Davy and us sisters. Though I suppose I must thank you; you have given us one cause to feel some kind of bond between all of us who each hate the other for their own just reasons.” Celeste turned away then, with nothing more to say, and resumed staring out over the ocean, giving an unresponsive cold shoulder to his advances.

The Blood Moon hung high in the sky.

Beckett shook with rage at the sharp tongue he’d just been lashed with, and took his hands off Celeste. There was a pause between them as he took a step back, but instead of turning to go, he lunged forward again. Celeste gasped softly as her eyes went wide and Beckett leaned in a second time, hissing into her ear, “Be grateful I’m not making you watch your beloved Jack Sparrow hang,” before finally drawing away and leaving her alone on the bowsprit.

Celeste looked down slowly, at the knife tip sticking out of the front of her dress, also pointed towards the horizon. She took sharp, shallow breaths as she sat there, unable to move, watching the growing red blot on her dress front swell and spill down the folds on her lap. Her fingers shook as she touched the blood and her lips began to tremble. It was so warm coming out of her, so very warm; what an unusual, terrifying feeling it was to be bleeding… to be dying. She lifted her hands, looking at the dark red smeared across them and looking almost black in the moonlight, before lifting her face to look up at the moon. Several more sharp gasps escaped her as she slowly managed to push herself to stand, and began to take uneven, dragging steps towards the deck where her sister and Davy Jones were still embracing.


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