As man hath caused a blemish...

“DAVY!” I screamed over the noise, fear and disbelief prompting me, as he fell back, the spar still in his chest, jolting to a different angle as he hit the deck. I yanked myself out of Rawlings’ grip to scramble over the deck. Lines, ropes criss-crossed the deck now, all at different heights, attached to the main mast and to crewmen, fighting through them was worse than a fly fighting its way through a cobweb. I gave up in the end and tried to crawl over the deck to get to his side. Collins had taken over smoothly – something told me that this sort of thing had happened before. I finally reached the Captains side…he was still. Far too still. I held my palm over his mouth, trying to feel breathing – I had no idea of where to look for a pulse…even if he had one, “HELP!” I yelled, looking up. There seemed to be no one noticing, crewmen were swimming over to the wreckage of the mizzen mast which drifted through the roiling water, dangerously close to the mainmast. I turned back to the Captain, unsure of what to do, I put my hand on the wooden spar to yank it out and a hand closed around my wrist,



“Not a good idea” Wiggs said even as he let go. He and Rawlings laid out a spare flat of canvas beside him, “get his hands, Spyce” He ordered firmly. I was in shock, I want you to keep that in mind, I would have obeyed any firm voice of authority if I thought it would have helped Jones. They carried him through the water, half swimming, down through the lower decks to the cabin that was a make-shift and very rarely used surgery. He was laid out on the table. It was just as I wondered how the hell he was going to stay there with the water swirling around us violently, when Rawlings pointed upwards. The water level was sinking,



“Are you gonna remove it?” I asked, my voice only a few hundred octaves higher than usual,



“Not yet” I turned to face Wiggs, batting the long strands of my glowing hair out the way so I could stare at him, “remember a couple of days ago? The idea we had about putting his heart back in place?” He said,



“There isn’t one to go in the chest. The Dutchman needs a heart” I heard myself speaking, not even aware of thinking it before I did,



“Right. She does” He replied quietly, looking at me strangely. The water was scuttling away between the little holes in the ship…it took me ages to figure out what he meant,



“No” I said eventually, “no way in god damn bloody hell is my heart going in that chest!” I yelped, “I don’t want to be Captain of the Dutchman!”



“You won’t be, you’ll just be…keeping us all alive” He shrugged, looking and sounding totally calm, “plus it might break the contract or spell or whatever it is…he’ll be able to love after all”



“This is insane!” I all but yelled, hysteria finally setting in. Ok so it wasn’t brave and it wasn’t smart but it was honest. The Captain still hadn’t move and without him around I had nothing to fight for. Wiggs grabbed both my arms and shook me – I think it was that or slap me – looking right into my face,



“You wanna stay on board?” He yelled back at me,



“Aye!”



“You wanna make sure the contract, spell whatever, is broken?”



“Aye!”



“Can you do this, Spyce?” He asked, voice suddenly quiet, strange too, thanks to the muffle of the water surrounding us. I looked up at him, trying to shove aside the panic. It was logical, in a really stupid way, it was actually logical. If I did this, the spell or contract or whatever it was keeping the Dutchman afloat, would work enough that I could survive – as Jones had survived for all these years - without a heart. If I gave him my heart he’d be able to love – me me me me, yes selfish, so what– so the crew would be free, right?



“Aye” I whispered in return,



“Good lass. Rawlings?” He let me go, turning to face his friend,



“Wiggsy I don’t think-“



“That’s right, you don’t” Wiggs said. If I hadn’t been so pre-occupied I would have wondered at the harshness of his tone, as it was I was too busy looking at the Captain. He looked so vulnerable…if you ignored the wood sticking out of his chest of course. I reached out, smoothing back a tentacle that had fallen across his brow, “Spyce?” Wiggs called, “here’s the plan, Rawlings is going to sort you out, he’s had training as a ships doctor” Wiggs said firmly, gesturing to his friend, “I’ll take the spar out of the Cap’n, it’ll give him enough time to start healing while I fetch the chest and Rawlings does…” He trailed off, looking at me, “does what he has to do, got it?” He said, looking between the two of us. It was now that I wondered why Wiggs had never been promoted, he was quite forceful in his own way,



“If you lie down here you can hold on to the beam” Rawlings said, pointing out a particular spot on the floor…well at least it was clean,



“Not yet, I wanna…just not yet ok?” I said softly, winding my hand into Davy’s and looking up at Wiggs, “go for it” I said. He nodded seriously, wrapping both hands around the massive chunk of wood, bracing his feet firmly against the boards before yanking. There was a dull, meaty sound and the Captain’s entire body jerked hard as the wood was wrenched free. It was an awful sight. I’d expected blood but there was just…it was like molasses…dark and thick and oozing, layers of flesh against dark green seaweed. I squeezed his hand, even though he probably wouldn’t have felt it. I went to turn away but the tiniest movement caught my eye. He really was healing…that wasn’t any better than the wound itself. Something about watching flesh knit itself together turns my stomach,



“We haven’t much time. Get to work Rawlings, I’ll be back in a minute” That was all the warning we had before Wiggs darted quickly out of the room. Rawlings smiled at me, just a little nervously, a knife seeming to have appeared out of nowhere…I was rather pleased to see that it was exceptionally sharp. Then he ruined it by starting to talk,



“Alright so, I’ll have to split your sternum and lift the rib cage out the way and-“



“Yeah. Ok. It’s gonna be messy, point taken…will it kill me?” I asked, surprised at how calm my voice sounded,



“No…well, probably not…it shouldn’t” He looked at me apologetically, “I think ‘it shouldn’t’ is the best I can give you” He smiled a little. I nodded, sat down and started to shrug off my shirt, blushing as I laid back only in the cloth band I’d tied around my chest since my bra was history a long time ago, hands on the wooden bar,



“Hey!” I yelped as he began to tie my wrists too it, slip knots so if I tried to wriggle free they’d tighten, “what th-“



“You’re going to do a lot of squirming around” He said, his voice as calm and soft as any professional doctor I’d known, “it might not kill you but that doesn’t mean it isn’t gonna hurt” He said. I nodded slowly, the words he spoke not exactly comforting. I yelled again as he started to undo the band around my chest, “it’s either take it off or it gets cut off” He said sternly. Bright red, cringing and wishing the sea would open up a little sooner than it seemed to be doing and swallow me, I lay bare breasted and frightened against the boards,



“Just…be careful not to stab my heart or else we’re screwed alright?” I heard the nerves in my voice. He nodded. I was still smiling the little frightened smile when the handle of the knife smacked into my chest, there was a sound like a stone being dropped from a great height and I screamed. Oh God why was I still capable of feeling pain? He worked quickly, efficiently, ignoring my screams and keeping me pinned by placing his forearm on whatever bit of me he could. I will not go into details, the grinding and crackling you don’t need to know about, or the sound of the last few drops of milkshake being sucked up a straw as my heart was pulled free of my chest. It was set to one side, on a pile of canvas’…it was the weirdest thing I’d ever seen, my own heart. I looked down, expecting to see a crimson flood and surprised to see only…wetness…saltwater poured from the gaping hole where my heart had once been and…kept on flowing. It was so strange to see. All the right tubes and wobbly things were there but instead of blood there was just…water. I groaned, screwing my eyes shut as he replaced everything. If I’d have had anything to eat before I would have been sick, I just know it,



“Alright? Still with us?” He asked, patting my cheek. I opened my eyes, reaching down to tie back on the band around my chest, Wiggs was there, trying not to watch. He was stood beside an open chest, I could see a heart – I’d never seen a heart with barnacles or seaweed on it before – beating inside. I ran three fingers down the centre of my chest, feeling the flesh healing beneath,



“Bloody hell” I breathed, surprised that I still could. I looked up at Rawlings, who looked pale, sick like he hadn’t been expecting it either, my heart in his hand. I reached out for it and he pulled away,



“Stop messing around and give it back” I said, my voice rough from screaming, Just because I hadn’t bled didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt. He wasn’t looking at me, he was looking over my shoulder with wide worried eyes,



“You said she’d be dead, this changes things” He said firmly,



“It changes nothing” Wiggs replied harshly. I turned in time to see Wiggs drawing a knife from his belt, poised over the chest and looking up at me with grim determination,



“Wiggs? What’s going on?” I asked in trembling tones, struggling stiffly into my shirt,



“I’ve only got ten years left. Rawlings has thirty seven…I’m not going to wait thirty seven years to see him again” Wiggs said softly, taking the barnacle encrusted heart in his free hand, “you understand that, don’t you Spyce?” He asked, almost desperately,



“Wiggs” I said, hearing the fear in my own voice, “don’t do this…the idea is gonna work, we’ll all be off free and clear to-”



“Live happily ever after?” He cut across me with a slightly manic smile, shaking his head, “if it’s one thing this ship has taught me it’s that life doesn’t work out the way you want it too…” He trailed off, looking at Rawlings rather than me, “and I ain’t gonna risk it all on a guess or a hope” He looked down at the quivering heart in his hand, “I gotta be sure”



“NO!” I darted forward as the knife crashed down, once, twice, three, four five times. I lost count. Wiggs was insane, why hadn’t I seen it before? Even Rawlings looked worried. I snatched my own heart from the traitors hand and ran over to Davys far too still form. The hole in his chest was nearly knit together…it looked like someone had taken an ice cream scoop to his chest. I placed my heart in the cavern of his chest as hell broke out around us. The Captain…the ship was…dieing. In the distance I could hear crewmen screaming as the planks of the Dutchman started to slowly pull apart, seawater gushing in through the cracks that were left. Nothing happened. Even the slow mesh of his flesh healing stopped. I wasn’t aware I was crying until I saw the splash of my tears against his shirt. Sea water was running around us freely now, moving the still tentacles of his hair and beard, “not like this” I whispered, feeling my temper rise up as I tried to figure out why it wasn’t working, “it’s not supposed to be like this!” I yelled at his unresponsive face. Rawlings and Wiggs had ran away, I was on my own with the corpse of the Captain, my temper was not going to last, I felt despair start to settle in, “it doesn’t matter” I realised, resting my cheek on his chest, “my heart is yours Davy Jones” I whispered, holding onto him as the water rose. I missed the soft roar of his breath but the soft lub-dub of his heartbeat was a welcome comfort in the dark – wait….his heart…I sat up, looking down into his face. He was breathing! The hole in his chest closed up as I watched and almost at the exact same time that his eyes opened I felt it. I sat back, looking down as the water flowing from my chest slowly turned crimson, pouring out thick and fast. I lifted my hand, it was stained with crimson, looking past it I saw Davy frowning at me in confusion. The pain didn’t matter, the fact I couldn’t breathe didn’t matter…he was alive…it felt like slow motion as I fell back, feeling sticky warmth covering my chest, splashing over my arms and legs too…someone was…whispering my name frantically, but the sound was all wrong…there was an accent,



“Ellen! Ellen!” I focused on Jones…I think he was holding me in his arms,



“You’ve never…said my name before” I gasped out. I was crying, regrets, memories, happy times floating through my mind in rapid succession and then there was just him…him in my minds eye…it seemed to take too much strength to reach up to touch his face, he turned his head…kissed my palm and then -