Revealed

Author’s Note: Sorry for the lack of updates, real life unfortunately demanded more attention. The rough draft was written before I saw AWE so what you’ll read are some of my guess as far as a possible plot.

Captain Jack Sparrow stood on the rail of The Black Pearl staring down at the familiar faces rushing across the white beach.
A man with muttonchops lashed to the sides of a head round as cannon ball led the charge. Good ole’ Gibbs. He chuckled.

Not far behind came Pintel and Rangetti running with all the grace of a drunken, three-legged ass. In between them dodged Marty, his short arms pumping to keep pace.
Of all the odd sights he’d born witness to, and there were plenty to chose from, he had to say his mongrel crew stampeding towards him topped the list.

As he grabbed a ratline, he espied a woman with dark skin in a ragged gown. Couldn’t be. “Locker must really be getting to me,” he muttered. He stared harder against the sun’s glare. The dreadlocks and marked eyes grew clearer.

Tia Dalma.

“Bugger,” he muttered. The witch never left the safety of the Bayou. Much as he knew Tia to fancy him he’d no illusions, unlike William Turner, affection had prompted the voodoo priestess to leave her swampy domain.

Behind the pack came two more figures.

Noble as ever, Will Turner moved with same gangly stride of his father. For sure he were Bootstrap’s son. Poor lad. The times the boy weren’t acting all chivalrous, he actually liked the Will. And when the blacksmith wasn’t the acting as the barrier between him and bedding a certain Governor’s daughter.

His humor soured faster than a leaky cask of water. Bloody woman had killed him and still wanted her, although now he’d tan her backside as well. The image of his hand on Elizabeth’s firm arse sent his blood rushing below his belt.

No.

He yanked the ratline. The whelp wanted the betrayer, by all means let him have her. They’d go off, get married, have a brood, fulfil all the mundane and pointless expectation society demanded of them until their days were up.

He shuddered at the thought of such a confined life. That truly would kill him. Elizabeth too.

Not his problem. He ignored the squeeze of his heart as he swung down to the ground. She’s made her choice. Let her live with consequences. Little Judas wasn’t even around. Not that he wanted to see the wench. Just…

“Think she’d have felt guilty, me saving her life and all,” he grumbled.

The sight of a familiar wide-brimmed blue hat and weathered pirate approached. He stared. What was Barbossa doing there? He’d killed his former first mate, at least he’s thought he’s killed him.

If Jack hadn’t thought The Locker Hell before, he most certainly did now.

“Why, hello Jack.” Barbossa smiled.

Every man skidded to a stop. Their gazes swung between the two enemies.

“Speak of the devil.” Jack plastered a smile on his face and sauntered forward.

“Not quite.” The Mutineer gave a humourless chuckle.

The monkey on his shoulder screeched.

“You’re right,” Jack smiled wider, “for the devil doth take a please form.” He smirked.

Barbossa glowered.

Good. Let Bloody Hector stew. “As you might have noticed,” he swung around and pointed the The Pearl, ”I’m relocating the position of my person and corresponding affects. Therefore, as I won’t be here and you will be yer welcome to partake of all the amenities that the here and now offers those being here.”

A dozen plus bewildered gazes stared back.

“This isn’t a social call.” Barbossa stepped forward splashing through the water. “And I’ve no intention of staying behind, not when the lady so kindly returned me to the living to fetch ye back.”

His head snapped toward Tia Dalma.

“I needed a man dat know de way here and dat know Jack Sparrow.” She shrugged not the least sorry.

“Surely ye could’ve found someone else?” he snapped.

Tia shook her head.

“Roberts?”

“Him dead ten years, chained to de woman he killed.”

He grimaced. Now there was a punishment fit for hell. As he recalled the stout wench had a shout like the mating squeal of swine. “Fine. Captain Low.”

The witch gave a slow shake of her head. “Him make a deal with Davy Jones and serve de Dutchman.”

Ewww. He hid a grimace. Still unwilling give up he tried again. “Captain Evens.”

“Drowned himself in barrel of rum.”

Jack grinned. Certainly were worse ways to give up the ghost, in the shark jaws of a terrible beastie being one of them. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Except de crew sealed him body and spirit inside and carry it wid’ dem for good luck.”

He stuck out his tongue. “On second thought.”

“Der were no one else.” Tia picked up her ragged skirts. As she stepped forward her gaze never left his.

Less than anxious to get with within the striking distance of witch, most especially when she were riled, Jack spun towards Barbossa. “I’ll still not be saved by likes of you.”

Hector rolled his eyes. “And I’m none to pleased about savin’ the one what brought me to me an end.”

“Apparently not as final of one as I thought,” he muttered. “I’m still without need of assistance.” He swept his arm towards The Pearl.

“Jack.” Gibbs shuffled forward. “Ye can’t be so daft as to try and crew The Pearl by yerself.”

“Ah,” he stuck up a finger and waggled the digit before his first mate’s nose, “there yer wrong.” He spun once more towards his beautiful ship. “I already have one.”

The tap-tap of fifty crustaceans’ claws echoed as they climbed the ship’s rails.

“There!” He pointed to the horde of sea creatures.

His former crew stared, eyes wide and mouths hung open.

“They’re crabs!” Gibbs bust out.

Jack frowned. “That’s not very nice.” He twisted back toward his audience. “I don’t insult ye when ye take to one of your moods, Mr. Gibbs.”

Gibbs grabbed his flask from inside his sodden vest and took a long drink. "Ye can't be serious?"

Gaze narrowing, he studied creatures. "True they are small, but they always help out in a pinch."

“Jack, for the love of mother and child,” the former Navy man shouted.