Legends of the Treasure Child

She was making good speed. Incredible speed, actually, and she rejoiced with every wave she crushed through, her sails full of wind. She felt like flying. Had the Black Pearl been able to see, then she would have seen that her hulls barely touched the water beneath her. For John stood at the helm, adding force to her unnatural flight.
Elisabeth was safely ashore. He’d seen her run upwards the steep hill to the green grass, towards her home, towards her son. It had taken him an extra three days to get her home. And each day that had gone by, had been one day longer away from his father. He could have been with Jack a lot faster. But John had chosen to honour his word to Will first, knowing that his father would survive whatever horrors the demon put him through.
John should have seen it coming! He should have known, he should have smelt it on Jack that something was about to happen! The Pearl wouldn’t keep still. Ever since he’d returned to her, she’d been nagging like crazy, telling him over and over how the Thyrioon had scorched himself as he first set foot on her, then managed to grab hold of Jack while still in the air, almost crashing against the wall in the process. A daring dive, like the Thyrion had something to die for. There was admiration in her voice, yet mostly anger, for like John, she would not settle with having Jack snatched away like that. I should have loosened the lines, I should have entangled that monster in my ropes, let my sails fall over him…! There was no end to her self-criticism.

Mr. Gibbs. We need to…” John began, rubbing his face in his palms, “we need to set a new course—“

“—perhaps ye should take a break, Mr. Sparrow.”

“Mr. Gibbs, please, call me John.”

“I don’t know much about half-demons, but ye look as if ye’re about to double over. I haven’t seen ye sleep—“

“—I haven’t slept in a week. But I’m fine, mostly just worried” John yawned, baring all of his teeth including his slender fangs. “I should have been there, Gibbs, I should have…He must be so scared right now.”

“Exactly where would ye say he is right now?”

“That’s what makes setting a course so difficult, you see. He’s either taken to the demon’s dwelling at the Fountain of Youth, or the demon’s taken him in the opposite direction, which would be in the northeast of Mongolia. He’s got this ancient dwelling there in a castle ruin somewhere.”

“Where have ye been exactly, all these days ye were gone?”

“In the nether world getting drunk with Lucifer, enjoying his whores.”

Gibbs stopped to stare at him, not knowing what to say in reply. He eventually shook his head.

“Ah, come on Gibbs. Lucfier was actually very hospitable, said he’d been waiting for me. And he went out of his way to keep me there, giving me anything I pointed at as if he was afraid I was going to leave h—“John stopped dead in his tracks. Enlightenment and comprehension washed across his features as he realized something. “The bastard!” John said, holding out his right hand with his palm facing up. A blue flame flared up, fanning out to his fingers. With his index finger John drew a door into the air next to him. He then turned to a perplexed Gibbs, and said: “Mr. Gibbs, take the helm, turn the Pearl west bound towards Isla de Guernica. Keep the sun at your back at all times, and you’ll get there. At midnight, you’ll put a, uh, expendable member of the crew to take the watch, savvy? And lock up the remaining crewmembers including yourself. You open to no one until the screaming stops, aye?”

“Aye, but… there’s few of us as it is. None’s really expendable, Sir.”

“One less to share the bounty with, remember?” He didn’t give Gibbs time to answer, and then disappeared through the door.

“Holy Mother of God!” Gibbs said, catching his breath and crossing his chest in all directions to make sure. He then turned to stare at the crew who stood to stare at the event, not knowing whom to choose. Things had been easier under the command of Jack Sparrow. He swallowed hard, watching several of them cross their arms above their chests, arching eyebrows at him. They’d obviously heard the entire conversation. John was bad news that way, lacking certain social antennas concerning confidentiality and when to use it.

Midnight came. The crewmembers locked Mr. Gibbs outside, leaving him to his fate, wishing him good luck, ‘break a leg and ‘say hello to Captain Turner when ye meet him, harr harr!’. Midnight went, and Mr. Gibbs started on h is second bottle of rum whilst trying to keep his nerves in check. These bloody Sparrows and their demons! They’d be the death of him for sure! And ‘John’? Who in their right mind names their half-demon bastard ‘John’? Mr. Gibbs shook his head again, humming a rather nervous edition of Whiskey in the Jar to himself, peering to himself. The sky was cloudless, and the moon stood high on the starlit heavens. The Pearl still made good speed, and it was all silent. Too silent, actually. Where was the crushing of waves upon the hulls? Mr. Gibbs did NOT leave the helm to find out. The almost full moon on the sky told him that it was somewhere around three o’clock in the early morning. The Witching Hour, when the gates to the Underworld were at its weakest and the forces of evil on its strongest. Mr. Gibbs swallowed, seeing things lurk in every crook and nanny in the corner of his eye. The sweat poured, cooling in the gentle wind. Aye for it wasn’t more than a gentle wind yet the speed of the Black Pearl sudjested he should have been blown off the deck. Oh sweet Mother Mary, this had to go wrong. Not even fighting Davy Jones and his cruel, bewitched men had been anywhere near as scary as this! Why didn’t he listen to his father when he was a young man? He should have taken that job at the bakery instead. He could have settled down with a nice lass and gotten seven kids, and instead he found himself at the helm of a bewitched ship, sailing straight to his doom. Mr. Gibbs gulped down another mouthful of rum. He put the bottle down, but the glass missed the edge – or was pushed by some unseen force, he couldn’t tell – still, it fell crashing to the deck, and Mr. Gibbs leapt sky high, screaming in shock as the bottle shattered into a million tiny shards. He stared at the shards, stared hard, looking at a former bottle of rum where the glass had shattered into a million of perfectly diamond shaped tiny shards. Like real diamonds. A heap of them. No uneven shapes or sizes. No, like a heap of diamonds. No normal bottle would break like that. He thought he heard whispers, a distant snickering voice. The deck downstairs suddenly came alive as a portal opened. Out poured small demonic creatures. They were all bright red, with long tails, claws on their feet, leather wings on their backs and horns in their foreheads. They looked like wicked, disfigured babies, and they snickered and hissed at each other, clicking their fangs together. They kept pouring through until the deck was swamped, and only then did they stop to stare at Mr. Gibbs above at the helm. He stood with both hands at the wheel, holding his breath, gawking back at them. He saw them licking their lips in anticipation, wonder playing across their wrinkled faces as they seemed unable to decide whether he was a hotdog or a t-bone steak. They watched him move his right pinkie to the left then back to the right. It was then Mr. Gibbs thought he smelled something burning. So did the demon miniatures. They started squealing, stomping their feet, and soon smoke rose from their midst. They rose their chubby feet too see what went on underneath, and screamed in terror as they saw their toes starting to burn. Soon, the entire deck of the Black Pearl was alive with tap-dancing midget demons trying to put out the fires beneath their feet, and just then, as they simultaneously combusted, Mr Gibbs’ knees wouldn’t support his weight anymore, and he disappeared down behind the wheel. He closed his eyes, breathing in the stench of burning meat. Just as his eyes flew open, he saw a burning demon come round the corner of the stair up to the helm, his teeth bared in agony and hunger. Had his chubby arms been but a few inches longer, he would have sliced up Gibbs’ left arm, but John got to him before the demon could, and Gibbs turned away as John grabbed the demon spawn by his jaws, pulling them in opposite directions until bone cracked and the demon went limp. More spawn came running in frenzied flight, trying to escape the inevitable fires they perished in. John readied his sword, a beautiful samurai sword, and cut them down like crops in a field. Mr. Gibbs finally found his strength back as well, and got to cut down a few as well.

“Sorry ‘bout this, Mr. Gibbs. But as I anticipated, I was held up after I opened the gate. Had to sever the head of one of Lucifer’s many lovers”, John grinned, pointing towards the enormous, pumpkin shaped black and grey monstrosity of a troll’s head lying in the middle the heap of scorched demon bodies. “I was a fool to admit to Lucifer my identity. He’s a stuck up, spoiled brat who gets everything he points at. Beautiful and delicious too, but he had the nerve to say that he made the Thyrion aware of Jack’s whereabouts as a joke, a little something to amuse himself with while he waited for his lover” John pointed again, “to return. So I took his lover’s head. Needless to say, he got a little annoyed and sent these juvenile bastards after me, but I was, uh, had to take a detour, and they beat me to it I guess. No harm done here, though.”

“No harm?! Wha’ about me poor fragile mind?!” Mr. Gibbs exclaimed.

“Well, you don’t seem injured so I assume—“

“—that I’m fine? That’s it. When we’re done tracking down Jack, AGAIN, I might add, then I’m retirin’ to the country side of England and find me a sweet bonnie lass in stead. I expect me retirin’ fee to be proportional to me long years of servitude to Jack, just so ye know it!” Gibbs drew fresh breath, “Ever since he dragged yer little golden arse onto this ship, I’ve been plucking more grey hairs on me head than—“

“—Mr. Gibbs” John implored softly as they both went downstairs and waded through demon goo, “I consider you my father’s closest friend and confidante! You have been his steady rock for decades, heck I even consider you family! Please don’t be angry with me, “John stopped Gibbs, making him look straight into his face. John put on his best behaviour and a pair of golden chocolate puppy eyes which would have won him a prize for Best Male Actor had it existed in 1743, knowing Gibbs would give in. “You forget that all though I may look a little awkward on the outside, I’m still just a fresh not-so-dry-behind-my-ears lad in need of guidance. And right now especially, I’m lost without my Daddy who is out there all alone and in the hands of a wanton—“

“—ye’re almost the spittin’ image of yer father, ye know?” Gibbs sighed, cutting him short for he did not want to think of Jack and his misfortune, instead patting John on the shoulder in a comforting ‘there-there, lad’ manner, not knowing John had anticipated it so. John threw himself in Gibbs’ arm, whispering a half-sobbing ‘thank you’ into his ear. John decided that should the salvage company fail, then he could always make it as an actor. Or a lawyer. Same thing.
Mr. Gibbs had the immense pleasure of putting a baffled and horrified crew to work, ordering them to clean up the mess which met them on deck. He bossed them around, barking like an old dog, shoving them to their places, reminding them of their ‘treachery’ by locking him out. “Ye all missed yer chance to be heroes!” Mr. Gibbs proclaimed, placing his fists in his sides, laughing out loud to them. It seemed that John wasn’t the only one good at acting, and John gave Gibbs an acknowledging nod.

“If the Treasure Demon can do this to a bunch of demons, guess wha’ he can do to an army of men!” he heard Pintel whisper to Ragetti, who in return whispered: “Aye, a regular one man army.” John pretended not to hear them, all though Mr. Gibbs were down on their back instantly, shouting to them about finding buckets and water. It was called for a major clean-up of the deck, and Pintel and Ragetti got the honour of swabbing down to the very last inch.

“Spotless, I tell ye, ye scabbard dogs, spotless!”

John had returned to the helm. Ragetti’s words still clung to his brain. A regular one man army. A man and an army. Why did those words fit so good in his brains? There was a premonition there, of something to come. Something involving him and an army. He saw the modest Turner house outside the country village, in flames. Elisabeth running from someone, screaming, someone cradled in her arms. And she was cut down, she and her baby. Hell on Earth. Army upon army, cleansing the Earth. With him at the front line, giving the orders. It all spun, and John woke to find himself holding on to the wheel, as his knees no longer would bear him. He slowly got to his feet, and walked over to the door of the captain’s quarters. He put his hand over the place of the embedded cross, and whispered to the wood: “Take us to Jack, my Pearl. I need to rest. Standing up to Lucifer is taking its toll.”

The Black Pearl was eager to comply, leering to one side as she found new wind, accelerating hard. John stumbled inside, falling asleep the minute he hit the pillow in his bed.

Mullroy and Murtogg stood and gawked. They shivered in their very boots as they saw the ropes being pulled at and fastened by unseen hands. The wheel turned, but none stood at the helm, the Pearl’s course being corrected time and time again as if the very ship itself was the captain, sailing for Jack. Mr. Gibbs felt the shivers down his spine as well, emptying his second bottle of rum, opening his third. That John Sparrow had confided in him, and had connections in Hell, achieving things no mortal man could. He was entrusted with the responsibility of keeping it all together, and the weight of the responsibility was heavy. He looked into the eyes of his crewmen, and he saw fear and horror, and he guessed by now that several of them might be regretting the deal they’d made. All but Morty. The little dwarf with the biggest balls of them all. He was enjoying himself, whistling as he threw dead demon bodies overboard. A small man with great motivation skills. His display of self-confidence was one of the major glues that kept the crew together, as all now whispered dreadful stories about ghost ships adrift at sea with no crew anywhere in sight, taken by the devil and left to—

“—Ragetti, ye no good flea, ye left a spot.”

“Where?”

“There! And keep yer mouth shut. Ye’re scarin’ the lads” Mr. Gibbs said and nodded towards the newcomers, Mullroy and Murtogg who’d been listening intently. They had to find Jack soon so he could deal with this no good bunch.