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Squaring Accounts - Chapter 8

by Melusina

Fandom: PoTC    Rating: NC-17    Dramatis Personae: Jack, Will, Elizabeth, Norrington    Full Header

The Eight of Swords
Restriction-Confusion-Powerlessness

Elizabeth dreamt of skeletal pirates and moonlight and woke to gnawing hunger. In spite of the heat, she and Jack had huddled together, and she was sticky with sweat and stiff all over. She stretched cautiously, trying to avoid Jack's leg, and rubbed the grit from her eyes. There was no lantern, and the brig was lit only by the thin crescent of the waning moon. She could see the faint outline of Jack's profile, but Will and Norrington were nothing but murmuring voices in the dark. They were reciting a seemingly random list of names, and it took her a moment to understand that this was not some strange duty roster, but a tally of the dead.

"Marty."

"Jochem."

"One-eyed Pete."

"Tearlach."

"I saw Tommy come up from the gun deck, although I lost track of him in the confusion. I assume he was put in the hold with the rest of the crew."

"What about Harry?" There was a slight catch in Will's voice; he'd always been fond of Harry and Tommy.

Jack spoke without opening his eyes. "He looked hale and whole when de la Cruz was givin' us his rigmarole. And his damned matelot made it through as well, more's the pity."

The silence stretched out, and then Norrington said, "Thank you. For not giving me away."

"No profit in it that, is there? 'Sides, now you owe us twice." In spite of everything, Jack managed to sound smug about that. "What moniker should we give you, if anyone asks?"

"Benton -- it was my mother's name."

"Smart. Stick to the truth as much as possible. Makes it easier to keep your story straight."

Elizabeth could hear the scorn in Norrington's voice. "I may not be practiced in the ways of deception, but I am familiar with the more obvious tricks."

"Must come in handy in your line of business," Jack conceded genially.

They fell quiet and Elizabeth pondered the idea of escape. A score of ideas occurred to her and were just as quickly rejected as impractical or too risky, but she kept worrying the problem, certain that there must be some solution. Jack's hand, callused and familiar, smoothed her furrowed brow and then stroked back across her hair. With sure fingers he braided it into a neat plait and deftly pinned it back up. "Cooler like that," he said, and pressed his lips to the back of her neck.

*

Morning dawned grey and dismal, with a distant grumble of thunder. Will's body ached from the previous day's exertions and no matter how he shifted, he could not find a comfortable position. Norrington watched him a moment and said, "You're injured."

"My shoulder," Will admitted, "But it's not bad."

"Let me see."

Reluctantly, Will peeled off his shirt. Norrington touched the wound lightly, his hands cool and surprisingly gentle. "It's not deep, but you'd be more comfortable if I cleaned this blood up. Sparrow, is there any of that rum left?" Jack threw the flask into the passageway and Norrington reached through the bars for it. Presently Norrington began to dab at the wound with the tail of his shirt.

The rum burned in the cut like hot steel, and Will bit back a gasp. Norrington clasped Will's shoulder to steady him as he continued to clean the wound. His breath tickled on Will's damp skin and Will's spine tingled with a sudden awareness of Norrington's proximity. Conscious of Jack and Elizabeth watching from the other cell, Will pulled away hurriedly. "That's got it, I think." As an afterthought he added, "Thank you."

A surly-looking Spaniard appeared and unlocked the cell, pointing at Norrington. He gestured with his musket that Norrington was to follow. When he didn't come fast enough, the Spaniard waved emphatically and said, "Levántese!"

Will stood with Norrington and handed him his coat. Heedless of the Spaniard's impatience, Norrington dusted the coat off as best he could, and tied his hair back neatly. He gave Will a grim smile, and was gone.

*

The Spanish sailor brought James into the great cabin, where a dour priest stood behind de la Cruz, twisting a blood-red rosary in his hands. He muttered something under his breath, and de la Cruz nodded and gestured at the chair in front of him. James took a seat warily, and looked around. Sparrow's desk and the neatly organized map table had been ransacked and the maps tossed aside, as if someone had been looking for something very specific. What the devil were they searching for?

De la Cruz leaned back in his chair and swirled the wine in his glass reflectively, then said, "You are no pirate. You carry yourself like a gentleman, and if I am not very much mistaken, you are an officer of the English Navy."

Damn the man for being so observant. James didn't speak, in hopes that de la Cruz would reveal more of what he knew.

"However, the crew has not yet seen the value in sharing your identity with me." De la Cruz poured a second glass of wine and handed it to James. Underneath his urbane exterior, there was steel in his voice. "Who are you and what are you doing on this ship?"

James tasted the wine, mimicking de la Cruz's calm while his mind raced for an appropriate story. It was a fine Amontillado, mellow and creamy on his parched tongue, with a sweetness that made his jaw ache. It brought to mind a long-ago summer night with poor Griffin, not long before the scandal erupted and he'd put a bullet in his brain. Abruptly James knew what he must say. "My name is James Benton. You are mistaken if you think there is any love lost between me and the English navy."

De la Cruz narrowed his eyes and leaned forward.

"There was an. . .unfortunate incident with one of the young gentleman -- his father did not approve of our liaison and I was threatened with court martial." James hesitated. "The commodore kindly allowed me to resign my commission instead. I was sailing home to England when I was washed from the ship in a storm. I managed to swim to a small island, and I was marooned there for some weeks, until Sparrow and his company discovered me."

De la Cruz flicked his fingers at this skeptically. "This is a very improbable story. . .Señor Benton. I do not like to impugn your honor, but I find it hard to see these miscreants as Good Samaritans. What could you offer them, I wonder, to make it worth their while?"

"Pirates are notoriously motivated by self-interest. Sparrow was shorthanded, and willing to take on an extra crewman. Piracy seemed as good an alternative to the Navy as returning home in disgrace."

"And yet that was your original plan, yes?"

James shrugged. "Better than staying in Port Royal, to be pitied and shunned by my former friends."

The priest, who had been watching the conversation with an eagle eye, stooped down and whispered something in de la Cruz's ear. De la Cruz tapped his fingers on the table. "It is a curious situation. . . I do not believe in coincidences, do you understand? You would do well to be honest with me now, for my methods will not be as gentle the next time we speak."

*

Will wondered bleakly if they'd ever see Norrington again. From there he began to speculate on what de la Cruz intended to do with them. Starve them to death? Hang them from the yardarm? The fear Will had felt when Elizabeth had been recognized transmuted to hope -- perhaps de la Cruz would ransom her to her father. Will was sure he would pay whatever de la Cruz asked.

Would the Spanish hang a woman for piracy? What of the rumors that Spanish privateers sold captured women to white slavers, to fill the harems of Eastern caliphs? Or would de la Cruz simply let his crew have their way with her? Dark visions filled Will's thoughts and he gagged, his empty stomach coughing up nothing but bile.

Elizabeth stirred and would have spoken, but Jack silenced her with a hand to her knee. He deliberately looked out the porthole at the gathering clouds. "No use borrowin' trouble. De la Cruz's first order of business will be patchin' up the ships. Let's hope that buys us some time to get the lay of the land and make a plan."

Will wiped his mouth and drank some of the rapidly dwindling rum. "Do you think the man intends to feed us?"

Elizabeth laughed ruefully. "I'm so hungry, I'd eat a rat. Do you think we could persuade Dinah to bring us one?"

"There'll be food," Jack assured them, "After he's had a chance to question all of us. If he intended to kill us, we'd be dead. He just wants us gutfoundered and befuddled for these little interviews."

*

Even more than food, Elizabeth wanted to be clean. Her clothes clung unpleasantly to her body, and powder and dust gritted against her skin. When she was escorted into the great cabin, de la Cruz wrinkled his nose and cut his eyes eloquently at the priest by his side, and Elizabeth blushed with unexpected shame. De la Cruz was again impeccably turned out, his linen spotless despite the red pomegranate seeds he was eating from an ornate silver bowl.

"Are you familiar with the story of Persephone, Señora Turner?"

Confused, Elizabeth nodded. When he seemed to want more, she elaborated, "She ate the food of the dead, and was condemned to spend six months of the year in Hades."

"Six pomegranate seeds. Such a small thing, but enough to seal her fate." He patted his mouth delicately with a napkin. "How do you find piracy, Señora?" He took in her filthy breeches and dirty face and said, "Perhaps not the adventure you expected?"

"I knew what I was getting myself into. And I chose it willingly."

"To be with your husband? Or to cuckold him under his nose?"

"I am loyal to my husband, sir."

"Are you? One hears such curious rumors."

There was a subtle threat in his voice, and it shook her more thoroughly than outright intimidation would have. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl, and when he leaned forward, she jumped to her feet and raised her hands. "Don't touch me!"

"Don't flatter yourself. Do you think I would foul myself with a woman who's spread her legs for that filth?"

Before she could school her response, her hand was in the air to slap him.

"I would advise against it. My crew is not so fastidious."

She took a deep, shuddering breath and willed herself to stay calm. Nothing would be served by antagonizing de la Cruz, and if she pushed him too far, she put herself and all the others at risk. It would be the height of foolishness to allow herself to be used against Will and Jack.

When she'd lowered her hand, he continued, "I am conscious of the great insult you have done to your father's honor, and I would like nothing more than to return you to him so that you may hide your disgrace. If you are cooperative, I may even be willing to extend my generosity to your husband. However, there is information I must have before we can bargain." He gestured at the chair pointedly and waited until she'd sat down again. "The English have put out that you have run away, and yet you and your husband are on Jack Sparrow's ship, along with at least one English officer. . ."

Elizabeth shook her head in confusion, unsure what he meant to suggest by all this. She heartily wished that she knew what story Norrington had told. If only they'd had a few moments alone before the guard had taken her!

"Shall I spell it out for you? I put it to you that your father has employed Sparrow to harry Spanish ships; that your husband and Capitan Benton are in league with this plan, and that the English navy is conspiring with these pirates to rob Spain of the gold and treasure we have found in the New World."

She could only blink at this. "That's. . .ridiculous!"

*

Sparrow sat up, cocked his head and smiled broadly. "Hear that?"

From above, there was the resounding echo of hammers against wood. James nodded uncertainly.

"They're doing our work for us, mate. Makin' her seaworthy again, savvy? Two, three days, they'll have the leaks fixed and the rigging repaired."

"And then?"

Sparrow's fingers fluttered evocatively. "And then. . ."

*

"You are William Turner, the quartermaster?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been on this ship?"

"Three years."

"Was this before or after the fabled curse was broken?"

"After," Will answered precisely, fearing that he would betray too much if he elaborated.

De la Cruz pursed his lips in frustration, before changing tactics. "And you are married to the. . .lady?"

Will gripped the table at the insult in de la Cruz's voice, but he forced himself to stay still.

"I'll take that as a yes." De la Cruz steepled his fingers. "What can you tell me about this Señor Benton?"

"We found him on an island and agreed to take him on."

"And you had no former acquaintance with this man, prior to joining the Black Pearl?"

Will shook his head. "No. I was a blacksmith, and I had little business with the men at the fort."

De la Cruz raised his eyebrows skeptically. "You are married to the English governor's daughter, are you not? And I saw you fight. You are no more a blacksmith than I am."

It seemed the height of injustice that de la Cruz wouldn't accept this simple truth (never mind that it was in service to a lie). In frustration, Will smacked the table. "Give me a hammer and an anvil and I'll prove it to you readily enough. Or give me a sword and I'll prove it on your body!"

De la Cruz backhanded him, and Will tasted blood. "Watch yourself, boy, or I'll have you in chains!"

Will took refuge in a sullen silence.

De la Cruz barked a series of questions, his exasperation increasing each time Will refused to answer.

"What is Benton doing on the Black Pearl?

"What does England know of Cortez's gold?

"What sort of arrangement does your wife's father have with Sparrow?"

Will couldn't help but laugh at the idea of the Governor having anything at all to do with Jack.

De la Cruz stood angrily. "I will not be mocked! You will be made to cooperate, one way or the other. Consider this, Turner, your wife's fate is in your hands. If I get what I want, I'm willing to restore her to her father. But if you force my hand, it will not be pleasant for any of you. Think you on that!"

*

"What do you make of him?"

"Sharp. Very little gets past him."

"He's despicable -- all leering innuendos and quiet threats. And that priest!" Elizabeth shuddered, unable to convey in words the uneasy feeling he gave her.

"There's something unnerving about his eyes," Norrington agreed. He leaned back against the hull and smiled sardonically. "But, you know, I'd give a great deal to be a fly on the wall in there right now. I don't imagine de la Cruz has dealt with anyone quite like Sparrow before."

*

De la Cruz looked like someone had pissed in his wine, but he made a show of standing and smiling graciously. "Capitan Sparrow, please have a seat."

It raised Jack's ire to see that damned fop at his table, in his cabin, acting like he owned the place. But this was not an entirely unfamiliar feeling, and Jack was practiced in playing the fool in this situation. He propped his feet on the crossbar under the table (biting his lip when he inadvertently jostled his hurt knee) and cocked his head impertinently, for all the world as if he were the one conducting the interrogation.

Irritably, de la Cruz snapped, "What is that woman to you?"

"Why, she's my quartermaster's wife! Lovely woman, good nurse. Gives the ship a certain tone to have a lady aboard, you know. . .Keeps the boys out of trouble and gives 'em someone to go cryin' to with their broken hearts. . ." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Keeps Mr. Turner happy, as well, if you gather my meaning."

"Rumor had it that he'd been killed. Perhaps you were less than pleased by his resurrection? A woman may take any port in a storm, but if her husband is discovered to be alive. . ." De la Cruz gestured gracefully.

Clearly the man had no imagination. "You’ve got the wrong end of the stick, mate. She's nothin' to me."

"Ah, perhaps I do have the wrong end, as you say. Is it the husband? I understand that many pirates have perverse tastes. . ."

"Did you take my ship so you could satisfy your curiosity about our sleeping arrangements? 'Cause I'd be glad to draw you a little diagram, and then we can all go on our merry way."

"I took your ship because you are a thorn in the side of Spain!"

Jack smirked at the reaction he'd provoked, and the priest who'd been lurking behind de la Cruz cleared his throat ominously.

De la Cruz took a moment to calm himself. "But it is true that I want information from you, and I am willing to negotiate for it." He paused expectantly.

Jack said nothing, following the first rule of negotiations: never open the bidding.

After a moment, De la Cruz sighed and said, "I am charged with discovering the location of Cortez's lost treasure, which confers invulnerability. It is said that you know of this island and can guide us there."

Jack couldn’t quite hide the real panic in his voice. "You don't wanna be messin' with that, mate. 'Invulnerability' is the least of it."

"Oh no, I assure you, his majesty is intrigued at the prospect of an immortal army. And he is willing to reward those who assist him in this matter, even those who have previously been his enemies. Whatever England has offered you, we are willing to exceed it generously."

"England? What's England got to do with anything?"

"The English governor's daughter, her husband, a former Naval officer," de la Cruz ticked off on his fingers, "A treasure of immeasurable strategic value, and Jack Sparrow the only one who knows how to find it. You and your crew may concoct whatever outrageous stories you like -- I know which way the wind blows."